On the way back to the manor, Gavin's thoughts were consumed by the growing threat of Volantis.
The oldest of the slave-holding free trade city-states, Volantis had endured many defeats over the course of its long history. Yet despite these setbacks, it remained the most formidable power in the southwestern part of the Essos continent.
For centuries, Volantis had waged war against Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys. Alone, it fought against three city-states and still refused to yield. Its strength forced the three to form the Three Daughters Alliance—a united front forged not from loyalty, but necessity.
Governed by the conservative Elephant Party, Volantis had grown increasingly cautious in recent centuries, avoiding large-scale foreign campaigns. But Gavin's swift conquest of Lys had upset the fragile balance, and now the sleeping giant stirred once more. Volantis was again eyeing the disputed lands.
Myr and Tyrosh, unlike Volantis, were ruled by elected merchant councils. Their armies consisted of a patchwork of slave-soldiers and hired mercenary companies. Such reliance on mercenaries made them unpredictable in war. Mercenaries fought for coin, not country. They inspired little trust, and even less loyalty.
Volantis, however, fielded the Tiger Cloak Army—a standing force of disciplined slave-soldiers who were both loyal and numerous. In equipment and experience, they surpassed the mercenaries of the Three Daughters. On the battlefield, they were a force to be feared.
If Volantis decided to march, Gavin—still new in power and with foundations yet unsettled—would be the first to face the storm.
And worse, Gavin couldn't dismiss the possibility that Volantis had reached secret agreements with Myr or Tyrosh. They were once ruled by the Dragonlords of Valyria, after all. Now, with one of the nine great trading city-states fallen into Gavin's hands, the rest would surely see him as a threat.
Enemies who had once fought each other might now find unity in fear.
As these thoughts weighed on him, Daenerys gently took his hand.
Sensing her touch, Gavin turned his head and smiled, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Gavin (softly):"My dear, don't worry. The situation may not be as dire as it seems. Once we reach Lys and assess things, we'll make our next move. For now, I want you to arrange the journey—and take Brienne with you. I'll feel more at ease with her protecting you."
Daenerys (nodding):"As long as you're by my side, I'm not afraid of anything. I thought it would take a month to reach Lys by ship with Brienne."
Gavin (smiling):"It won't take that long. Syndor can carry three or four people now without issue. We'll fly—much faster."
Her violet eyes lit up with excitement.
Daenerys:"When can I ride Viserion?"
Hearing his name, the young dragon nearby lifted his head, eyes curious and intelligent.
Gavin (stroking Viserion's head):"Soon. He's growing quickly. Give him another six months, and he'll be ready to fly the skies."
Daenerys (grinning):"Then I'll ask Brienne to prepare."
Gavin nodded, watching her hurry off in search of her knight. Viserion followed closely, wings tucked neatly by his sides.
The Call of Fire
Brienne stood in the courtyard, armored in polished steel. At her hip hung the famed Valyrian steel blade—Dark Sister. Her gaze was fixed on the creature before her.
Syndor.
The golden dragon's body stretched thirty-five meters long, each scale gleaming like a burnished coin beneath the sunlight. Thick muscles rippled beneath its hide. Its wings stretched wide and broad, casting a vast shadow over the field. The veins and sinews in the wing membranes pulsed with power. Its claws—curved like hooks—dug into the earth with ease.
Its massive head, adorned with sharp horns and crowned with jagged spines, turned slowly. A maw of fangs, like ivory sabers, protruded from its jaws. Its amber eyes glowed like molten gold, radiating an oppressive, primal heat.
Its tail swept the ground behind it, stirring clouds of dust with each swing.
Even though Brienne had seen the beast before, she couldn't help but swallow hard. The awe never faded.
She understood now why House Targaryen had once ruled Westeros. A dragon was not merely a creature. It was dominion incarnate.
Gavin and Daenerys arrived from across the yard, clad in travel gear, their expressions calm.
Daenerys caught Brienne's stare and let out a soft laugh.
Gavin (smiling):"Remember to fasten the binding straps on your harness. During takeoff and landing, hold the saddle tightly."
Brienne (bowing with respect):"Thank you, my lord. I will be careful."
Gavin gave her a nod and climbed onto Syndor's back. Daenerys followed, graceful and sure. Brienne climbed up last, settling behind them with practiced caution.
But as soon as she sat down, Syndor's massive head twisted around, eyes narrowing.
He locked his gaze onto Brienne.
She stiffened, heart hammering in her chest. Sweat beaded at her brow as she met the dragon's unblinking stare.
Gavin reached forward, gently stroking Syndor's golden scales, murmuring soft High Valyrian.
The dragon's eyes lingered for a moment longer before slowly turning back.
Gavin (calmly):"Dragons only accept one rider. Only the bonded master may bring others on their back. That's the only way they'll tolerate it."
Before Brienne could respond, Gavin leaned forward and patted Syndor's neck.
With a deafening roar, Syndor unfurled his wings. The sudden gust sent dust and leaves spiraling across the courtyard. His massive wings beat once, twice, and they were airborne.
The manor below grew small as the horizon stretched open before them. Clouds parted in their path as Syndor soared higher, the wind howling past them.
The three of them flew east—toward Lys, toward war, and toward the uncertain flames of fate.