Chapter 418: Dorn’s Great Attack

The Next Day

Morning came to Myr, and the city buzzed with repair and rebuilding activity.

West Coast Harbor

The sea rippled gently as several three-masted sailing ships anchored, their broad sails billowing in the wind. On the shore, a squad of Fearless stood tall, clad in black armor and wielding spears.

Rhaegar watched the hundreds of Second Sons before him with a bland expression.

"Prince, thank you for your kindness. We will not fail you," said a young man with a silver trout emblazoned on his breastplate. His voice was solemn, full of power.

Several young knights stood beside him. These knights wore no noble coats of arms on their armor, indicating that they were of bastard or commoner descent, much like the landless knights.

Rhaegar smiled faintly and instructed, "Communicate well with Old Lord Tully and explain the Iron Throne's loan information."

He then repeated the instructions to the rest of the Second Son regiment.

Thirty Second Sons of noble birth had obtained the Pioneering Order and enlisted their companions of lower birth to assist them.

The young man from House Tully nodded vigorously, his seriousness evident. "Don't worry, we will do our best to convince the house head to support us."

"Very good," Rhaegar praised, "The war won't end for a while; you have plenty of time."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the hundreds of members of the Second Sons regiment, with grateful faces, saluted in unison and boarded the large ship flying the flag of the three-headed red dragon.

The Iron Throne's money alone was insufficient to establish a territory. The men traveled back to Westeros to garner support from their family elders, hoping to build their territories better and faster with the help of knights, experienced farmers, blacksmiths, and artisans. They would also need a certain amount of armor, weapons, and war horses to be considered qualified lords.

The waves gently churned as two large ships sailed out of the harbor. Rhaegar watched silently, his violet eyes reflecting deep thoughts.

Issuing the Pioneering Order was a good strategy to solve the surplus of slaves and reclaim the disputed land. However, it wasn't enough.

In all free trade city-states, slave owners would encircle land outside the city-state for their own use, planting orchards and farmland. Interrogating the executed slavers revealed that these places yielded good harvests every year.

Orchards and farmland were vital components of the city-state's economy. Previously controlled by slavers who used slaves for cultivation, these profitable lands now fell into Rhaegar's hands, offering great potential.

As he pondered, several differently dressed figures approached—gorgeously attired women, wide-bodied civilians, and even old slaves in rags.

Rhaegar's ears twitched slightly as he turned to stare at them. The approaching figures looked humble, hurriedly lowering their heads under his gaze.

Rhaegar's eyes were intense as he stared at the middle-aged, overweight man. "Sandro, clean up the manors outside the city and reorganize the commoners to work," he ordered.

He was considering reforming the manor system, introducing a new labor relationship and payment method. The Iron Throne would assign manor owners to various agricultural tasks, with points awarded for each job completed.

After each season's harvest, these points could be exchanged for supplies or money. In this way, workers would receive benefits without falling into an oppressed mindset. By avoiding direct monetary payments, unauthorized strikes could be prevented, ensuring the smooth operation of seasonal agriculture.

Sandro, his face full of determination, replied, "Yes, Prince. I will quickly restore order to the manors."

Rhaegar nodded and turned to the aged slaves, their faces etched with the hardships of life. "Screen the those who have families. Whether it's for the manors or reclaiming the territory, there's no shortage of work."

In Myr, the ratio of civilians to slaves was as high as one-third. The functioning of the city-state depended heavily on slaves, many of whom had families. Compared to solitary slaves, those with families were more stable and reliable.

The old slave's wise eyes shone with understanding, and his voice was deep. "There are many jobless former slaves in the Free City who would be happy to serve."

He was a respected figure among the slaves, fluent in several languages, and knowledgeable in astronomy and medicine, elected as one of the slave representatives.

After the commoners and slave representatives had spoken, it was the turn of the old noble's representative.

Lady Karl, a beautiful woman with deep olive skin and sensual red lips, reported with a hint of self-consciousness, "Several bankers have departed for Braavos to seek a loan from the Iron Bank."

"How much can they borrow?" Rhaegar inquired, not well-versed in this area.

Karl blinked her beautiful eyes thoughtfully. "About twice as much as their own bank savings. The merchants of Braavos aren't foolish. The Myr bankers can probably only borrow so much."

The Iron Bank had a long-standing reputation for dealing with all of Essos before the Doom. They were confident enough to lend money to an enemy force, confident that the borrower would not renege on it. However, they still required proof of repayment.

Rhaegar nodded, his mind working quickly. "That's enough. The money stored in several banks is sizable."

Any one of the bank's savings was not inferior to the national treasury that his great-grandfather and father had accumulated over decades. Borrowing such a large sum of money would be sufficient not only to develop the disputed lands but also to ease the financial strain of building on the Stepstones Islands and repairing Myr and Lys.

Rhaegar continued, "Stretch the loan term as long as possible, ideally up to the maximum of 60 years."

The Iron Bank's maximum borrowing term was 60 years. When his great-grandfather Jaehaerys built the Kingsroad, he took out a 60-year loan, paying it off in a dozen years. However, Rhaegar had no intention of repaying it.

Karl's face paled slightly, and she gently reminded him, "Prince, the power of the Iron Bank is not to be underestimated."

With enough wealth, the Iron Bank could mobilize the power of half of Essos to collect a debt.

Rhaegar's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "The Targaryens' dragons have reclaimed the land of Essos. Do you think I care?"

Repay the debt? Unless Braavos changed its Sealord and moved from hostility to alliance with the Iron Throne, there was no hope of recovering even half a copper.

Karl's eyes darkened and she said nothing more. She was a merchant, not a warrior.

"Prince, there is news from the Prince's Palace!"

Gray Worm hurriedly approached, leading a team and looking slightly anxious.

Rhaegar's expression tensed as he greeted him and received the letter. The red lacquer seal bore the image of a roaring lion, signifying the sender: Tyland Lannister.

Rhaegar quickly unsealed the letter and read it carefully. Tyland lived in the Prince's Palace, serving as Rhaegar's eyes and ears in the Dornish borderlands. Given Dorne's past aggression towards the Stormlands, the Vulture Mountains were always a potential hotspot for conflict.

Tyland's meticulous handwriting carried urgent news:

"The Vulture Mountains are in turmoil. A large number of people are pouring in, invading the Boneway and the Prince's Pass..."

The letter also detailed recent movements in Sunspear. Braavos had dispatched a small fleet that crossed the Narrow Sea, breaking through the patrol ships of the Stepstones Islands to provide a significant number of mercenaries.

Rhaegar finished reading and exhaled, "Dorne is about to get serious."

Strategically, the Stepstones Islands should send troops to blockade the sea near Sunspear to stop Braavos' fleet from offering support. However, the Stepstones Islands' military strength was stretched thin, with most forces engaged in the disputed lands among the three Free Cities.

Maintaining a full blockade with continuous patrols was impractical, leading to inevitable gaps that Braavos exploited with small fleets.

After careful consideration, Rhaegar instructed Grey Worm, "Myr is on track. Maintain order here and remind Rhaenys and Daemon to watch out for sneak attacks from Braavos."

Jeyne's letter had warned of a potential attack on Pentos, but it was possible that the true target could be Myr. Deception and diversion were strategies Rhaegar himself often employed.

Grey Worm nodded repeatedly. "Yes, Prince."

Rhaegar's eyes flashed with determination as he left the harbor. The challenges of attacking the Triarchy across the sea were becoming clear: reinforcements took time, troops were scattered, and the rear remained unstable.

Fortunately, with all three Free Cities now stabilized, they could afford to reinforce their positions and prepare for potential threats.

...

At the Same Time

Stormlands, East Coast

"Roar..."

A light silver dragon soared through the sky, weaving through thin clouds. Below, the ocean stretched endlessly, its rippling waves sparkling under the morning sun. The beach shimmered gold as the tides swept sea crabs and shellfish ashore.

Tap, tap...

Two figures walked side by side, strolling against the morning sunrise.

Laenor looked despondent and said helplessly, "It's been so many days, and Aemond still won't send troops."

"House Swann has offended him," Cole replied carelessly, lowering his head. Even the cool touch of his bare feet on the sand couldn't lift his spirits.

Laenor looked up to the sky, sighing as hecomplained, "This is a battlefield, not a child's playground. Something will happen to him if he continues like this."

Cole remained unconcerned. "He is a prince and has a king for a father. He has the luxury to be capricious."

"Cole, are you listening to what I'm saying?" Laenor was surprised; this wasn't like the words that usually came from his gentle companion.

Cole's face fell as he replied defensively, "What I'm saying is that the Dornish can't reach us and it's only a matter of time before we win."

Though his words were quick, they lacked conviction. Laenor frowned and lowered his head without pursuing the matter. He could see that his partner was too distracted to discuss the battlefield.

Sighing softly in his mind, Laenor decided to continue the distraction. For a time, the two men, having nothing to say, walked in cold silence.

After a long pause, Cole asked hesitantly, "Laenor, how are you and Celine doing? Lord Corlys places great importance on the heir. He should be pushing you to produce an heir."

"Celine? Why are you asking about that?" Laenor froze at his words.

Celine Celtigar was his wife, whom he had married at the end of last year. Not long ago, Celine's father, Lord Bartimos of Claw Isle, had been sentenced to death by the Iron Throne for smuggling goods and had written to ask for mercy.

Cole waited for an answer. Laenor, feeling depressed, laughed bitterly, "If I could see my wife as often as I see you, I would have had a child long ago."

With a twinkle in his eye, Cole said, "I've been out a lot lately. I thought you were returning to Driftmark Island."

"No, my brother, you thought wrong," Laenor laughingly denied it.

"Then where did you go?" Cole raised his head, directly pursuing the question.

Laenor's smile stagnated, his gaze becoming somewhat evasive as he explained, "There are always people inviting me to drink, and I can't refuse."

(Word count: 1,864)