Chapter 145 Envoys from the Three Cities

Volantis, the overlord of southwestern Essos, remained far more powerful than Tyrosh and Myr. Its dominion stretched over a vast network of towns and villages, each contributing to the city's once-indomitable might.

Even for Gavin's seasoned fleet, the coastal sweep had grown more difficult. Volantis' garrisons fought with greater resistance, and the city's defenses were better organized. Yet, with Hassan's ruthless efficiency, spoils of war still flowed ceaselessly into Lys.

By now, the Port of Lys had transformed into a colossal transit hub. Warehouses brimmed with plunder, and the sea was choked with ships ferrying materials and slaves between the Stepstones and Lys. It was a living artery of conquest.

Despite the weight of war, Gavin made time—each day—to walk with Daenerys beneath the orange skies, or speak with Margaery among the jasmine-laced gardens. In time, the two women grew accustomed to each other's presence, allowing Gavin some semblance of peace between power and passion.

Two months passed.

One afternoon, a warship from Gavin's fleet glided silently into harbor. Onboard were envoys from the Three Cities—no warships escorted them. They could no longer afford it.

Tyrosh, crippled by siege and starvation, had flown a white flag from its tallest tower for over ten days. The envoys had boarded Gavin's vessel in a humble skiff.

Now, escorted by crimson-cloaked guards, the three envoys entered the great hall of Lys, their eyes wide with unease. Each step echoed like a drumbeat of doom.

On the dais sat Gavin, cloaked in black and bronze, Syndor's jeweled hilt glinting beside him. His eyes were cold steel.

Gavin (dryly, with a trace of mockery):"Tell me—what sort of threat have you brought me this time?"

The envoys froze. Beads of sweat bloomed on their brows. None dared raise their gaze.

The Tyroshi envoy, swallowing hard, stepped forward and bowed deeply.

Tyroshi Envoy:"Your Majesty, Dragon King Gavin… I speak for Tyrosh. We… surrender. The Great King was deceived by traitors, which led to unfortunate misunderstandings. Tyrosh has no true quarrel with you. We beg your mercy."

The other two hastily echoed him, voices trembling with desperation.

Gavin (his gaze sharp, voice amused):"And who, I wonder, deceived the Great King?"

The Tyroshi envoy faltered.Tyroshi Envoy:"I… that is… Lord Dragon King, I… the matter is complicated…"

His words stumbled and collapsed into awkward silence. His face reddened. Panic bloomed in his eyes.

Gavin (coldly):"Strange. I recall Lord Theron personally writing the letter that invited Malachor Megya."

He turned toward the Myrish envoy.

Gavin:"And Myr offered its halls to host the Three Cities' war council. Isn't that right?"

The Myr envoy lowered his head. His lips quivered, but no words came.

Gavin's eyes slid to the Volantis envoy.

Gavin:"Volantis did more than host. You sent one of your own consuls to lead the coalition. Malachor. He even dared send me an ultimatum once named commander."

The Volantene envoy dropped to one knee, his voice shaking.

Volantis Envoy:"Great King, that was Malachor's madness alone. The Noble Council has since removed him from office. I come now, sincerely, to apologize and seek peace."

Gavin's expression remained unreadable. His voice was calm, but implacable.

Gavin:"You need not spin lies or excuses. You've lost. That's the only truth that matters."

At his signal, three Blood Dragon Guards stepped forward, presenting parchments brimming with dense, flowing script.

Gavin:"These are my terms. Accept them, and I'll accept your surrender."

The envoys took the parchments with shaking hands.

Gavin's terms were uncompromising:

All dragon egg fossils and dragon bones were to be surrendered.

Massive compensation in wealth and resources was required.

No city was allowed to rebuild a navy—ever.

All trade routes would be patrolled by Gavin's fleet.

Annual military tribute was to be paid to ensure total naval dominance.

The Volantene envoy was the first to lower his scroll.

Volantis Envoy:"Your Majesty, we can agree to the first two demands. But I cannot speak for the Noble Council on the third. I must return and seek their consent."

Myr Envoy:"The same applies to me. The Governor's Council must decide."

Gavin nodded slightly, then turned toward the Tyroshi envoy.

Gavin (voice colder):"And what of Tyrosh?"

The Tyroshi envoy hesitated, but only for a moment. His city had suffered for too long—starvation, rebellion, the creeping shadow of total collapse.

He took a deep breath and bowed deeply.

Tyroshi Envoy:"Tyrosh accepts all your terms, Lord Gavin."

The hall fell into stunned silence. The other two envoys turned toward him in disbelief.

Gavin allowed a rare, satisfied smile to touch his lips.

Gavin:"Then sign it."

The Tyroshi envoy stepped forward, trembling as he took the quill and etched his name upon the parchment. When he finished, he bowed low again, sweat dripping from his temples.

Gavin said nothing, offering no words of thanks. Instead, his eyes flicked toward the remaining envoys, who stood pale and silent.

He rose from his seat, the heavy silence parting before him like a tide.

Gavin (commanding):"Prepare a ship for them. Return them to their cities."

Blood Dragon Guard:"Yes, Your Majesty."

And with that, the Dragon King swept from the hall, his cloak trailing like a shadow behind him.

The three envoys, now reduced to pawns on Gavin's board, were led away under the watchful eyes of the Blood Dragon Guard.

The alliance of the Three Cities—fractured and bleeding—was no more.