Chapter 57
HARWIN STRONG
The Crown had spent years preparing for this war in one way or another. And though many suspected that the Crown had foregone the insult dolled upon them by the Triarchy and its pirates and had succumbed to the fear of the 'Crab Feeder', yet those in the capital knew it all to be a lie.
The Crown had not forgotten. The Prince had not forgotten.
And even though as a war raged in the Stepstones, the Prince had them prepare for another, a great war that would go beyond these wretched infested isles of Stepstones.
And they had prepared hard. For three years, the Prince had poured gold into preparing ships, men, weapons, and strategies for this eventual conflict, and upon seeing it all, Harwin was reminded of just what had made the Prince so famous.
War. The Prince Aegon had done what no King, or no Arryn had managed to do in a hundred years as he rid his lands of the infestation of the rebellious mountain clans, bringing them to heed.
And now, he planned to do the same to the 'Crab Feeder' and his pirates.
"ROARRRRR!" to this day, he still found himself halting for a second upon hearing a dragon's roar, and he had heard no roar louder than Silverwing's as the mighty beast flew over the mountains, torching the pirates with no remorse or care for the thousands of arrows being fired at it.
And yet he knew that it was not as easy as it seemed, that it had taken the Prince years to design the armor that now covered each and every crevice of his dragon and his own body as he burned the Pirates, forcing them back into their caves, for the ultimate plan.
"MEN AT THE READY!" he screamed as he saw it fly over them, forcing the Pirates back into their cave, and as soon as the Pirates moved into their caves, he put up his sword.
"MOVE!" and the men moved as one, the years of training instilled into them made them move in unity, placing one-foot infront of another, shields covering them from all sides as they walked towards the mouth of the cave with steady steps.
It had taken the Prince, a few months to understand the that war in the stepstones would not be fought against the wretched pirates.
No, this was a war against the caves that hid these bastards, and so to win this war, the Iron Throne had to be rid of these caves, and the Prince had given them just the weapon for it.
And so, teh men marched armed with spears, and shields, as they reached the face of the cave, as his heart raced.
"BRING IN THE CART!" he shouted, and the men separated, making a small path for four men to wheel in a special cart that was so dangerous that one wrong move would burn them all to dust.
Yet, the men did not buckle in fear or rage, for they had practiced with it for years, perfecting the entire maneuver for this very day, as they wheeled the cart to mouth of the cave.
"ARCHERS! FIRE!" and the archers sitting behind the men infront stood up and began to fire volley after volley into the cave's mouth, forcing the Pirates to move back and back.
"PUSHING IN THREE!" he screamed.
"TWO!" and the men wheeling the cart got ready as he dropped his hand.
"ONE! RETREAT!" They pushed the cart and marched back quickly, in tight step, as the cart raced into the cave. The man stationed above the Cave saw it all and fired a fiery arrow into the sky.
"ROARR!" The Prince saw it all and descended to the mouth of the cave in an instant. As he flew by it, he saw his dragon open its maw, and it spewed a torrent of fire into the cave.
BOOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOM!
The explosion was deafening, and the whole mountain shook as the battlefield became quiet. then they saw it happen as the stone above the cave began to shift and roll down, and the opening caved in, shutting its mouth.
"YEAH!" the men screamed as the Prince's dragon came and torched the place once more, and the stillness of the battlefield was felt as the pirates realized that their caves were no longer safe.
"VICTORY!" he screamed, as the group of men behind him cheered on as they saw years and years of their efforts bear fruit. Many of them had been part of Prince Daemon's campaign and had desired a chance at revenge, and now they had it.
And it was all because of him.
The Prince's dragon descended and settled down atop one of the stony tops as his dragon looked, brought down its wings, and roared into the skies as if declaring victory.
"FIRE AND BLOOD!" he cheered, and the men joined him, as they moved towards teh next cave.
"FIRE AND BLOOD!"
.
.
The battle of Sunstone was short yet hard fought. It continued for three days and three nights as Prince Aegon continued to burn and force pirates back into their caves while he and his men used the wildfire to close the entrances once and for all.
It took the pirates a few days to understand their tactics, yet by then, it was too late. The absence of 'Crab Feeder' had left them rudderless, and the prince would first target anyone who tried to lead them.
These men had no sense of purpose. They were pirates and had come together only because of their greed and desire. As they saw the fate suffered by their comrades, they began to surrender, hoping to die with some dignity rather than suffocating and starving in their caves.
The Prince was quick to accept their surrender, yet it would come at a great cost.
From those who chose to surrender, seeking his mercy, he took one eye and one hand, yet he spared them their life.
It was cruel of him, and the world was reminded just why the Prince had earned the Mountain clans of the Vale called him 'The Bloody Prince.'
And so, as the first island fell into the Crown's control in but a few days, the pirates hid more than themselves in those caves.
They hid gold and loot, and so the men cheered, both in victory and joy, as they found themselves becoming rich.
And yet, as the men cheered and celebrated, he saw the Prince sitting there alone, by the fire, with a map still clad in his armor, with his dragon coiled around him as he stared at the map infront of him.
Despite his age, such was his presence that men veered away from him in fear, yet Harwin held no such fears as he walked up to the young Prince with a flagon of wine and ale.
"We have won a great victory, my Prince," he began, as he stood infront of the pyre.
"You must celebrate," he said, and the Prince glanced up. It still surprised him today that he was still a boy of less than two and ten and knew more of war and gold than even his own father.
"You know better than most people that I am not fond of wine," and he did know that.
"But it is a celebration," he tried to convince him, but the Prince shook his head, much to his dismay, making him sigh in defeat.
"Well then, I do hope you won't mind if I join you," he said, and the Prince shrugged, beckoning him to sit down, and he did as he took a swig of the flagon and drowned down a few major gulps of wine.
The Prince had a small table infront of him, filled with letters and maps, and beside him lay a blade, one he had won in battle earlier in the week.
"Is that Darksister?" he asked, and the young Prince perked up at his words before his head snapped towards the blade in question.
"Yes," and the Prince reached for it before he tilted the hilt in his direction.
Harwin put down the wine as he pulled on the hilt and was surprised by its weight and how light it was for a bastard sword of its length and width.
Its metal shone brightly in the fire as if soaking in the flames themselves, as he felt its edge and found it as sharp as ever.
"They say it Drahar paraded it around as a trophy after the death of Prince Daemon," he added, and it had been great humiliation for the Crown and the Targaryen family, but now they had paid him back in full for his treachery.
"I heard that as well, but it does not matter much now, does it," the Prince added as Harwin nodded.
"Did you find some joy when you killed him?" he asked, and the Prince was silent for a few seconds as he stared intensely into the fire.
"I take no joy in war or in death. The only joy one should take in war is in a swift victory," and those were wise words that would suit the mouth of a man in his eighties, not a young prince yet to become an adult.
He still admired the blade when suddenly one of the servants came up and whispered something in the Prince's ear, and he saw the Prince's lips turn up as he sent away and turned to him.
"I am afraid I am in need of your wine, Harwin," he said, much to his surprise, but he still passed on the flagon as he asked.
"May I ask teh reason for such a change of heart, my Prince?"
"The Gods are merciful, Harwin. They have blessed me with another son...."
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DRAZENKO ROGARE
There was a time when Lys had been the Crown Jewel of the world. The tear of Valyria, rich and opulent, with the wealth of the Valyrian Empire flooding the streets of the little isle.
And then doom had come for Valyria, and had taken with it the Freehold, and the luster of Lys. The isle had lost much of its prestige and power, and then for years, their isle was eyed by powers far and wide.
The glorious Tear of Valyria, had lost its luster much like his own family who traced their lineage back to one of the minor families of the Freehold. For years, they would struggle to survive, eeking out a bare existance until his brother had come, Lysandro Rogare, the First Magister, the one man who had turned around their fortunes.
Making their once decrepit family into the most powerful family of Lys. They were Magisters, yet the ruled the city like Kings, as the others bowed at their will.
Alas, Lysandro was led astray by that witch. Both he and all of his kin, who fell prey to that rabid witch's words as they pushed themselves into the Stepstones without much thought, and now all their hard-earned power and luster was lost once more.
The Rogares, the rulers of Lys, reduced into obedient lickspittles of the other lords of the Triarchy, as they tried to win back their favor and trust after joining hands with the Velaryons, and losing much of their fortune.
He had been called to Myr, to be welcomed back into the fold by the infamous Undine Drahar, kin to the Crab Feeder and the ruler of Myr. Lyr and Tyrosh wished to see them pledge their support to their cause and celebrate this occasion, and yet the air in the Great Manse was thick with fear and anger as the three leaders of the Triarchy sat in sheer silence.
The celebrations had ended before they could even begin, for as they gathered in expectation of word about the surrender and defeat of the mighty Sea Snake and the Vealryons, the word that came from the Stepstones was of death and decimation.
"How could this happen!" screamed the most powerful man of the Triarchy, Undine Drahar was a giant of a man, with slit like eyes and thin mustache and beard.
He was kin to the Crab Feeder, both of them born to courtesans of a prominent Magister of the city, and were said to be much close to one another.
And so, as the word of Drahar's demise reached the city, his anger was boiling at both the loss of his kin, and their prospects in the Stepstones.
"How could he be dead?" Unadine questioned, raging as Rocaalio Ryndoon gulped nervously and answered.
"They say it was the Prince," and the words coming out of the mouth of the ruler of Tyrosh were similar to the ones he had heard from another mouth.
Yet he put away that thought quickly as the man continued.
"They say he rides an armored dragon, and the arrows and scorpions are useless against him, and that he is using magic...." and that was worrying, as they all focused on the leader of Tyrosh, who was thin and long, with a young fox-like face.
"Magic," Micarso, laughed at the insinuation, but the glare from Undine was quick to make him shut up, as the giant man turned towards the leader of Tyrosh once more.
"What magic?" he asked.
"We do not know yet, but it is said to be a fire of some kind. One that burns so hot that it melts steel and stone," and even dragon fire did not burn so hot.
He knew for he had seen it with his own eyes, had seen it burn men and sheep while flying on its back with another. With Laenor.
And the thought of the Velaryon scion still irked him. For the fool in him had begun to like the young man, and yet he had betrayed him--Him and his kin as he left them at the mercy of the Crab feeder.
"He is burying them alive in the caves, sealing them using melted stone and steel. After Drahar's death, there is mutiny in our ranks. The men, they fear this prince more than Drahar. None of them wish to die with no food and air, buried alive inside a cave," and it was why, three of the seven major isles had already fallen, in but a few moons.
And the once mighty Triarchy, which was on the precipice of victory, was now losing the war.
"If he continues like this, he will be at our shores soon. We must act, and we must do so with haste," added Micarso, knowing well that Lys would not survive long in the face of a dragon's wrath.
"Have you heard of this Prince, Rogare?" questioned Unadine, turning towards him as the eyes in the room all turned towards him.
"I have," he began slowly, sitting on the giant sofa, as he tried to recall all he had learned about the infamous Aegon Targaryen.
"He is the son of Daemon Targaryen. He is the next King, and is known throughout the lands as the Bloody Prince," and he disliked the name much.
"Why?"
"For he is the one responsible for culling the Mountain clans of the Vale. The Prince is a dangerous warrior, and unless we do something to stop him, he will not stop at the Stepstones," and the Stepstones may be lost to them, but the Triarchy had to stand.
"How are we to do that?" questioned Rocallio Ryndoon.
"Cragas Drahar made peace impossible the day he slew a Prince. The Targaryens want to burn us all down and have been planning and preparing for this for years. We have to do something," he pleaded, for he knew that his lands and city would burn first.
They would all burn, but Tyrosh would come first.
"There is mutiny in our ranks. The men are afraid, and we are losing more and more land by the second. We have no answer for this Prince or his dragon," added one of the advisors as they all became quiet at their helplessness.
"Peace is not an option. He has burned down my kin, the Iron Throne will not accept our surrender. We must fight and retaliate, and we must do so quickly," added Unadine, as Micarso added from the side.
"And how are we to do that?" he asked.
"We must force him back into his lands. Buy time so that our men can gather up and shore up our defences to protect our cities," and that was a wise plan, and the man then turned towards him.
"You, Rogare. You know more about this Prince than any of us. Tell us, how can we force him back?" and he but his lip, hating that his family was reduced to this, and yet he had no choice.
They had already made their choices. And so he began, telling them all he could about the Prince, all that he knew.
And there was silence in the room at his words.
"I see," began Roccalio Ryndoon as he rubbed his chin.
"It seems as if there is but one way for us to force him back into his lands," he began, and the room nodded in consensus as the leader of Tyrosh turned towards him.
"Then it is decided," he said, looking at everyone else in the room, as others nodded their head in consensus.
"We must show the Prince that steel may protect him and his beast, but not those around him...."
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