**Chapter 224: The Ashmaker**  

Rhaegar stood at the bow of the ship. 

The moment the Devourer passed parallel to the warship, he leaped. 

**Splash—** 

He landed heavily on the dragon's back, rolling to absorb the impact before firmly gripping its scales. 

Standing atop the dragon, Rhaegar shouted joyfully, "Devourer, take off!" 

**"Screech…"** 

The Devourer raised its head and roared, flapping its wings as it soared into the sky. 

**Below.** 

Robb watched in astonishment. 

Rhaegar and the Devourer—one man, one dragon… 

Oh, no. 

It should be one man and two dragons. 

The Devourer carried Rhaegar straight into the clouds, disappearing into the morning sun. 

Gray Shadow chased after them desperately, letting out an unhappy screech. 

One man and two dragons vanished into the vast, misty ocean. 

--- 

**Meanwhile.** 

On Dragonstone, inside the castle. 

Rhaenyra lay on her bed, dark circles under her eyes, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. 

Ever since Rhaegar had decided to attack the Three Daughters, she had gone days without rest. 

Worry consumed her. 

She glanced out the window. The sky was foggy—it would be another sleepless night. 

Exhausted, Rhaenyra reached out and shook the small bell on her bedside table. 

**Creak—** 

The door opened from the outside, and a striking foreign girl stepped in. 

Rhaenyra asked, "Sara, did Rhaegar tell you when he'd be back?" 

The foreign girl was a handmaiden Rhaegar had assigned to her. 

Sara shook her head and answered bluntly, "No." 

"How many troops did he take?" 

Rhaenyra pressed on. 

"I don't know." 

Sara was as concise as ever. 

Noticing the girl's cold demeanor, Rhaenyra bit her lip. "Tell me whatever you know." 

Rhaegar had personally assigned this handmaiden before he left—there was no way she knew nothing. 

Sure enough, Sara hesitated for a moment. 

Then, a mysterious smile played on her lips. "Are you sure you want to know?" 

"Of course. Speak." 

Rhaenyra couldn't stand her arrogance, irritation creeping into her voice. 

Sara's tone was calm. "I'm afraid if I tell you, it will only add to your worries." 

As she spoke, she slowly walked to the bedside and sat down as if she belonged there. 

Rhaenyra pushed herself up, her expression blank. "Say it. Every single word." 

"As you wish." 

Sara ran her fingers through her hair, deliberately drawing out the suspense before revealing, "My mission is simple. The prince gave me only two orders." 

"What are they?" 

Rhaenyra's eyes turned sharp as she urged her to continue. 

Sara smiled indifferently. "One—protect you." 

"And two—" 

She deliberately paused, a mischievous smile curling her lips. 

**Smack!** 

Rhaenyra slapped her across the face, fury in her voice. "Wretch! I am the Princess of Dragonstone, Rhaegar's sister! How dare you mock me?!" 

She held herself with unwavering pride, but who did this girl think she was? 

To look down on her? 

Sara's head was turned by the force of the slap, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. 

"Well, you forced me to say it." 

Despite being struck, Sara looked satisfied, her cold demeanor returning. 

Under Rhaenyra's furious glare, her gaze turned icy as she stated, "Two—if the prince meets an unfortunate end, I am to assassinate the queen and the three remaining princes." 

Rhaenyra, who had been seething just moments ago, froze in place. 

Her mind raced, and her eyes widened in disbelief. Her voice trembled as she stammered, "Assassinate Alicent… and…" 

Sara picked up where she left off, her tone devoid of emotion. "Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron." 

Before leaving, Rhaegar had expected to win. 

But just in case, he had prepared for the worst. 

If fate were cruel—if he were assassinated like Aemon Targaryen… 

Or if he met the same end as Rhaenys Targaryen, whose dragon was slain by a scorpion bolt… 

Then— 

His shadow would immediately eliminate Alicent and his three half-brothers. 

To clear the path for Rhaenyra to claim the Iron Throne. 

Call him ruthless if you will. 

While alive, Rhaenyra was his sister, and his half-brothers were his kin—his assets. 

But if he died, Rhaenyra would still be his sister, while his brothers would become dangerous variables. 

Rhaegar had only one thought: 

**"Protect Rhaenyra at any cost."** 

Realizing the depth of his intentions, Rhaenyra sat in stunned silence, tears welling in her eyes. 

"Rhaegar…" 

She tried to speak, but her throat tightened, choking on the words. 

--- 

**King's Landing, the Red Keep.** 

---

**"Baolan, prepare me a breakfast. I will be meeting the King later."** 

Inside the bedroom, Jenny, still drowsy from sleep, softly called for her personal maid. 

"Yes, Lady Jenny." 

Baolan pulled open the curtains and quietly stepped out of the room. 

**Bang—** 

The door closed. 

Baolan leaned against the door, glancing cautiously to both sides. 

After confirming that no one was around, she reached into the ample folds of her dress and pulled out a sheet of paper and a small glass vial about the width of a pinky finger. 

The vial was delicate and exquisite, filled with a clear, transparent liquid. 

Baolan cast one last glance at the door, her expression unreadable, before unfolding the paper and reading it. 

There were three lines of small text: 

1. Ensure Jenny's safety. 

2. If an accident occurs, make sure Jenny supports Rhaenyra. 

3. If Jenny turns against Rhaenyra... 

At the bottom, there was an additional passage, but Baolan skipped over it. 

She crumpled the paper in her hands and swallowed it whole. 

After a month of close contact, she had come to deeply admire the duchess inside the room. 

Looking at the last remaining vial in her hand, a flicker of hesitation crossed Baolan's eyes before she tucked it back into her dress. 

She was certain—aside from the first instruction, the other two would not be necessary. 

--- 

The morning sun slowly rose, and the sky was exceptionally clear. 

One of the Three Daughters, Myr. 

**"Screeeeech—"** 

The dragons' roars echoed through the heavens, and the scorching dragonfire sent temperatures soaring. 

A black dragon and a gray dragon soared across the sky, their flames raining down relentlessly upon the city. 

In less than an hour— 

Smoke filled the air, and ruins were scattered everywhere. 

Myr's defenses were slightly stronger than those of Lys, with several scorpion ballistae mounted on the city's high towers. 

However, after the first round of volleys against the dragons, they enraged the Gluttonous One, who incinerated them with a single breath of dragonfire. 

The tower's structure melted into molten rock, roasting the guards within into charred corpses. 

--- 

**Somewhere inside the gladiator arena.** 

"Charge! That demon is inside!" 

A dense crowd of city guards stormed through the arena gates, their faces twisted in rage as they searched. 

**Clang—** 

The sound of metal shackles hitting the ground rang crisply through the air. 

The guards flinched at the noise, their fierce gazes snapping toward its source. 

A silver-haired young man in a tattered black robe stood in front of a slave cage. 

He lifted his chin and coldly observed them. 

At the sight of the silver-haired youth, the guards seemed to go into a frenzy, shouting as they charged forward. 

"Kill him! Kill him now!" 

"Flay him alive!" 

Hundreds of guards rushed at him, but Rhaegar remained calm, his expression unchanged. 

With a flick of his right hand, he gripped a long spear. 

His left hand reached to his waist and drew the Dragon Claw. 

"You will pay the price for your so-called justice!" 

Rhaegar stepped forward, brandishing both spear and sword with ease. 

The spear was named **Dawn**, a name he had given it when he rode his dragon away from Lys. 

Dawn and Dragon Claw were forged in the same furnace. 

The one-foot-long spearhead was made of Valyrian steel, and the shaft was crafted from exceptionally sturdy wood. 

As the first wave of guards closed in, Rhaegar showed no fear and roared, **"Kill!"** 

Dawn struck forward, its tip piercing through a man's eye socket, killing him instantly. 

Dragon Claw deflected axes and swords, then slashed upward, severing another man's head. 

**Boom—** 

As blades clashed, the iron gate of the slave pen creaked open, kicking up a cloud of dust. 

**Clink, clink, clink...** 

The sound of chains rattling filled the air as a group of strong, muscular slaves stepped out from behind the bars. 

"Charge! Kill the slavers' dogs!" 

A towering slave in the lead roared, swinging his unshackled chains like a flail. 

At his command, the slaves surged forward like a tidal wave. From above, their shadows swarmed across the arena, rapidly filling every corner. 

Rhaegar plunged into the heart of the city guards, his spear and sword dancing in deadly arcs—none dared step within seven feet of him. 

After taking down over a dozen reckless men, the battle neared its conclusion. 

The slaves overwhelmed the remaining city guards, who were vastly outnumbered. 

At the outskirts of the melee, slaves wrapped chains around guards' necks, dragging them to the ground. 

As their numbers dwindled, the remaining guards were tackled under a mass of bodies, beaten and kicked mercilessly. 

Rhaegar raised his weapons high and shouted, **"If you want freedom, follow me! We take the ships at the harbor!"** 

"We obey, my lord!" 

The slaves cheered in excitement and followed Rhaegar out of the arena. 

**"Screeeeeech—"** 

A gray shadow soared overhead, gliding across the sky. A spherical burst of dragonfire struck the coliseum, utterly destroying that wretched place. 

Rhaegar escorted the freed slaves to the port, leaving them with a single sentence: 

**"If you have no home, go to Westeros!"** 

With that, Devourer descended from the sky. Rhaegar swiftly climbed onto the dragon's back. 

Under the gaze of countless freed slaves, he soared into the heavens atop his mighty beast. 

**"Screeeech—"** 

As they departed, both Devourer and Gray Shadow unleashed one final breath of dragonfire, reducing the excess warships in the harbor to smoldering wreckage. 

Rhaegar gazed down at the freed slaves boarding the remaining ships, his heart swelling with an unprecedented sense of purpose. 

Having been stripped of his military command by his father, he found his mindset shifting in subtle yet profound ways. 

He needed a larger army—one that would follow him without question. He needed lands that he could control entirely. 

And these liberated slaves, rescued by his own hands, would become his finest soldiers and loyal subjects. 

Devourer pierced through the clouds. Rhaegar spread his arms wide, embracing the mist and the cool wind. 

He closed his eyes in ecstasy, whispering, **"Father, King's Landing is no longer my haven. The fledgling dragon will soar at last."** 

A haven was a place of shelter, a sanctuary from the storm. He had spent his childhood in King's Landing. 

But now, he had grown. 

A young dragon could not be caged. He belonged to the skies and the sea. 

Opening his eyes once more, his gaze was sharp and resolute. 

**"Next stop—Tyrosh!"** 

**"Screeech..."** 

Two dragon cries—one high, one low—echoed through the sky, churning the thin clouds as they flew swiftly onward. 

--- 

**King's Landing.** 

The royal bedchamber. 

Viserys slumped in his chair, idly toying with the stone carvings cluttering the table. 

Aside from feasts and tourneys, sculpting was one of his few hobbies. 

For years, he had worked alongside craftsmen, assembling a complete replica of Valyria's **"Freehold Fortress."** 

He picked up a dragon-shaped carving and placed it before him. 

Then a second, a third... 

Five dragon figurines now stood in front of him, arranged haphazardly, some teetering unsteadily. 

Staring at the once-beloved carvings, he felt no joy—only an unbearable restlessness. 

It had been five days since his explosive argument with Rhaegar. 

He had just received a letter from Aegon. 

Rhaegar had ignored all warnings and led two thousand soldiers on a surprise attack against Tyrosh. 

**"Sigh... Too reckless. He should have taken more men."** 

Viserys leaned back, exhaling a deep, weary sigh. 

**(End of Chapter)**