One month later:
At the junction of the Summer Sea and the Narrow Sea, the weather was fine and sunny. A great ship braved the wind and waves, crossing the stormy blue sea. Vivid patterns adorned the sails hanging from the thick mast. Three red dragons stood out against a black background.
"Speed up and try to reach Lys before dark," Aemon ordered.
Aemon waved his right hand, looking quite high-spirited. Grey Worm and Diana stood on either side of him, gazing at His Royal Highness with reverence. A squadron of one hundred Unsullied also stared silently. Their eyes were pure, as if they were looking at a savior.
"Don't look at me like that; your gaze is too intense." Aemon's lips curled up slightly.
The night a month ago was known as "Midsummer's Eve in Astapor." Two dragons and five thousand Unsullied broke through the city gates and launched a bloody purge that lasted three days and three nights. All Good Masters—slave owners and unscrupulous merchants—along with their families, were rounded up and executed. Any resistance was futile against the dragons. No Good Master could survive the hatred of the Unsullied and their slaves.
Astapor was changed forever! After the first test in New Ghis, slavery in Astapor was abolished, and it was now completely under his control. A council system composed of priests, healers, scholars, and slave representatives was established. The Unsullied, who had been trained by other Good Masters, were recruited to form a guard to uphold the council system. There were 1,500 Unsullied and 2,800 untrained reserve Unsullied. A total of 4,300 men—more than enough to deter most would-be rebels.
Aemon took five thousand of the most elite Unsullied, three thousand homeless young slaves, and half the Good Masters' wealth.
"I gave Astapor a chance. The future depends on their destiny," Aemon thought.
He gained a new title: "Breaker of Chains." He used the wooden shackles of the city's chains as firewood, melted the bronze remains of the harpy statue, and recast them into a ten-foot-tall bronze dragon. As he departed, the bronze dragon statue stood tall on the city walls. It symbolized the arrival of the era of the Dragon Lord and the end of the old slave system. This made Aemon proud. If Slaver's Bay weren't so far away, he would have wanted to stay. It would be like reclaiming the lost territory of Old Valyria.
Unfortunately, his roots lay in Westeros.
"Astapor would welcome the Dragon Lord's rule. It would provide a fallback for me and my descendants." Aemon gazed into the distance and clasped his hands together.
Crash...
Only by looking down from the sky could one clearly see the prince's surroundings. Huge ships surged across the waves, advancing in all directions. Aemon's ship was at the forefront, leading hundreds of ships in unison. A hundred ships, their sails emblazoned with the Targaryen emblem of a red dragon on a black background, formed a massive wave that swept across the world.
"Hiss—"
"Hiss!"
Vermithor and Seasmoke soared high in the sky, guarding the fleet. Aemon heard the dragons' roars and a slight smile curled his lips.
"Westeros, your prince has returned!"
Lys, one of the nine Free Cities, is also known as "Lovely Lys." Situated on the Summer Sea, Lys boasts a cool climate, abundant sunshine, and fertile land. Palm and fruit trees abound, the seas are turquoise, and fish are plentiful. Lys was founded by wealthy merchants and nobles and was once a Valyrian trading colony. Its pleasant climate quickly made it a popular retreat for the dragonlords of ancient Valyria. Today, Lys is renowned for its crafts and brothels.
Within the White City stands a manor castle clad in blue-veined white marble, a magnificent hall.
"Your Majesty, the internal strife among the governors is almost over, and now we need your help," Lysandro Rogare said solemnly from the hall. The Rogare family of Lys are nobles of Valyrian descent.
There was a middle-aged man with silver hair, purple eyes, and a small mustache. At the head of the table sat a languid figure. Daemon tilted his head and asked, "The Dragon Lord's help is always precious. What will Rogare offer me in return?"
"When I become the First Governor of Lys, you will be the nominal Prince of Lys," Lysandro promised.
"Hmph!" Daemon scoffed, his eyes darkening. "Do you think I covet that unappreciated title?" The wealthy merchants and nobles of Lys were all cunning and treacherous. None of them could be trusted.
"What do you want?" Lysandro asked generously, not fearfully. As a businessman, you must give and take.
"I am the governor of the Stoney Cross and king of the Stepstones," Daemon said with interest. "I will also be king of Lys and reclaim the lands lost by the dragonlords of old Valyria."
Lysandro remained expressionless. "As far as I know, the Stoney Cross and the Stepstones are no longer under your control."
"They are still in my hands," Daemon said nonchalantly.
"But the Stepstones are now controlled by Aemon, Regent of the Iron Throne," Lysandro retorted.
Daemon's face grimaced, and he warned, "I will reclaim my conquered territories. You need not worry about that." He simply didn't have time to manage the Stepstones. Let him live in his castle and manage his territory. When he finds the time, he'll take back what's his.
Lysandro knew better. The King of Lys is the Lord of Lys. As long as he becomes First Lord of Lys, order will be restored. The Targaryens are currently prospering with two generations of powerful dragonriders. There's nothing wrong with bringing Daemon to Lys. Most of the Lys nobles are Valyrians and hold little prejudice against dragonlords. The evil deeds committed before the Doom have faded with time. With a dragonlord ruling Lys, he would become a powerful "Hand of the King." House Rogare would only grow stronger.
Seeing that he remained silent, Daemon took the Dark Sister and headed upstairs. Lysandra reacted, saying, "Your Majesty, please take care of Marana."
Daemon paused, his steps becoming more resolute. He waited for Lysandro to leave. Half an hour later, a fleeting crimson dragon was seen heading toward the Stepstones.
Half a month later:
Stepstones, Bloodstone Island.
"Shh!"
Vermithor soared onto the stone island and roared passionately. The ships were anchored at the reef, and the Unsullied and three thousand young slaves disembarked.
"Your Majesty!"
"Aemon..."
After four months, Aemon's arrival was met with a wave of excited cheers.
"Arrange the Unsullied. These young men will be the artisans who will help build the fortifications." Aemon immediately made the arrangements. The Unsullied were the most loyal soldiers in the world, and their loyalty to him was unparalleled. With slavery abolished in Astapor, there would be no more Unsullied. He would use these Unsullied where it counted. The young slaves were no longer slaves, and they would most likely colonize the Stepstones in the future. Both Bloodstone and Grey Gallows Island had small plots of arable land. They would establish docks and a tax system to support them. Occupation is not rule; rule requires the hearts of the people. From now on, the Stepstones belonged to him alone. He was the Lord of the Stepstones!
"Aemon, let me see." With mixed feelings, Laena checked Aemon for any injuries.
"I'm fine. I'm doing fine." Aemon raised his chin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aunt Rhaenys in the crowd. With her arms folded, Rhaenys looked at her nephew with relief. She agreed with her husband, Corlys. A man's life is a long voyage. How can a boy become a true man?
After exchanging greetings, everyone returned to Dragon's Blood Keep. Rhaenys's first words were, "Daemon was here, but Laena and I drove him away."
"Daemon has finally shown up?" Aemon asked curiously.
Rhaenys explained the whole story. About two weeks ago, Daemon arrived alone on the Stepstones, riding Caraxes. He claimed the Stepstones as his territory and tried to recruit the Second Sons. The inevitable result was that Rhaenys and Laena arrived and drove him away.
"By the way, he left a letter for you." Rhaenys pulled out the unopened envelope.
"What's he up to?" Aemon wondered.
He opened the envelope, and the contents were disconcerting. The condensed meaning: The Sea Serpent had taken over Tyrosh and wouldn't be left behind. They were going to invade Lys. The sender saw that Aemon had designs on Myr and wanted to challenge him. Let's see who conquers the next Free City first. After the war, they will meet to discuss ownership of the Stepstones.
"Are you challenging me to a fight?" Aemon almost laughed out loud.
"Whatever. If he dares to show up before me, I'll give him a 'father says goodbye, son laughs' scene, harmonious and all. I'll cut off his head and hang it on the wall of Dragon's Blood Keep."
"Don't be angry. Those were just Daemon's harsh words when he was driven away." Laena touched his forehead, smoothing his furrowed brow. She smoothed it, then frowned again. Then she smoothed it again. Aemon pulled a sour face, demonstrating the art of eyebrow painting.
"Compared to Daemon, the Triarchy and Dorne are more important," Rhaenys suddenly said.
Aemon looked over.
"The Myr and Tyroshi mercenaries have fallen out, and the two sides have been fighting for months."
"Now, the Tyroshi mercenaries have retreated to the islands in the Disputed Lands. Due to losses in the war, Myr has split into two factions fighting for power," Rhaenys said.
This is a good time to attack. But risks and opportunities coexist. Myr is more aggressive than ever at this moment, like a trapped beast. It is likely to counterattack before being destroyed.
After hearing this, Aemon's eyes lit up. Fight well; fight internally. Fighting internally when losing a battle is in line with Myr's tradition.
Rhaenys added, "Don't be too happy yet. Myr's governors know they are weak and have invited Prince Qoren of Dorne to help."
Myr and Dorne have formed an alliance. Aemon is not surprised. The Triarchy and Dorne share a common enemy: the Iron Throne. The two sides have a cooperative relationship of mutual benefit and loss. The Triarchy has already lost Tyrosh. If they lose another city-state, the entire shipping route in the lower half of the Narrow Sea will fall under the Iron Throne's control. How can Dorne sit idly by?
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