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"Prince Jacaerys, the antidote you brought back has indeed worked.
Princess Baela's body is no longer continuing to stiffen. However, she has already lost a great deal of blood, and the venom of the manticore has been slowly corroding her body.
It will be difficult for her to regain consciousness in the short term. Fortunately, she has not developed a fever. Otherwise, her situation would be much more dangerous!"
In the underground fortress hall of Bloodstone, a middle-aged maester, with two links adorning his chain—one white, one black—stood before the high seat, reporting on Baela's condition to Jacaerys Velaryon.
The white link was forged from silver, signifying expertise in medicine. The black link, made of black iron, represented ravenry.
Corlys Velaryon had once privately confided to Jacaerys that this particular maester, Doron, had been handpicked by him and personally sent to Oldtown for training. Thus, he could be trusted—to a certain extent.
Jacaerys nodded slightly, his expression calm.
"I see. Thank you, Maester Doron."
"You are too kind, my prince. This is merely my duty. Now, I shall take my leave."
Watching Maester Doron's retreating figure, Jacaerys felt a slight sense of relief.
Baela had not developed a fever—this meant her wounds had not become infected.
In this era, a wound infection was often a death sentence.
After a moment of contemplation, Jacaerys turned to Rudy, who was on duty today, and instructed in a composed tone,
"Rudy, go and summon my friend. Bring him here alone."
"At once, Your Highness!"
Not long after, Baelor arrived in haste, bowing respectfully in greeting.
Once everyone else had been dismissed, Jacaerys spoke without preamble, his voice steady and firm.
"One of the masterminds behind this assassination attempt is Archon Pachek of Tyrosh. Therefore, I want to target Tyrosh first."
"My dear friend, what do you suggest?"
Baelor's expression darkened at the mention of the name, a look of utter disdain crossing his face.
"Archon Pachek? Hmph, this vile scheme is exactly the kind of underhanded trick one would expect from those merchants who take pride in their deceit.
Even their archon elections are rife with bribery and threats—I've heard as much more times than I can count."
After sharing a moment of mutual contempt with Jacaerys, he continued, "Prince Jacaerys, if we are to strike at Tyrosh, then our first target should be Pryr Town, the closest settlement to Bloodstone.
As long as we seize control of it—"
"Pryr Town is gone. I burned it to the ground yesterday."
Jacaerys interrupted him flatly, his tone utterly unruffled.
Baelor froze. His mind blanked for a moment, and he found himself at a loss for words.
Jacaerys had long since planned out his next course of action. He had only posed the question as a gesture of respect toward his ally.
Seeing Baelor still silent, he pressed on.
"I intend to blockade the sea trade routes of Myr and Lys. In the Stepstones, our Velaryon fleet, combined with your pirates, will be sufficient. If their main fleet attempts to intervene, Volantis must apply pressure from the other side."
Baelor gave a resolute nod.
"Rest assured, my prince. Our triarch will make certain that they are firmly occupied.
Myr and Lys will be—"
Mid-sentence, he suddenly frowned, sensing something amiss.
"Wait. Did I hear that correctly? Prince Jacaerys, you intend to blockade Myr and Lys… but you're leaving Tyrosh unchallenged?"
Jacaerys gave a slight smirk.
"That's right. You heard correctly."
Beolo's brows furrowed deeply.
"Then… does this mean that the magisters of Myr and Lys were also involved in the assassination?"
"No. They had no part in it."
At that, Baelor's confusion deepened. He stared at Jacaerys, searching his face for any trace of jest.
"Then why…?"
"Because I want revenge on Pachek. And I want to destroy Tyrosh."
Jacaerys knew Baelor lacked the foresight to grasp the true ruthlessness of this move.
So he simply waved a hand dismissively.
"Just deliver my instructions to your triarch. He will understand the reasoning behind them."
Then, as if offhandedly, he added,
"Oh, by the way, yesterday I burned down both Pryr Town and one of Tyrosh's city gates. Yet instead of outrage, Archon Pachek sent me a generous gift in response. Such broad-mindedness is worthy of admiration.
Perhaps we should send envoys to Myr and Lys to spread the word of his generosity?"
Baelor scratched his head in confusion but saluted and responded, "Understood!"
The plan to blockade the sea routes would not show any immediate effects.
Furthermore, apart from Maester Doron, there were neither medical personnel nor women on Bloodstone.
Yesterday, Jacaerys himself had tended to Baela, cleaning and dressing her wounds.
Now, after entrusting the island's affairs to Stone and Rudy, he carried Baela in his arms and took to the skies on his dragon.
It had taken twenty-eight days to reach the island by ship, but the return journey on dragonback lasted only half a day.
When Vermex descended upon the Dragonmount of Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and Daemon were already waiting, having received the raven in advance.
Flanked by maesters and servants, they immediately stepped forward to meet them.
The maesters of Dragonstone, along with several attendants, carefully received Baela and carried her toward the castle.
As Rhaenyra took in Baela's pale face and unconscious form, her eyes darkened.
Then, she turned to Jacaerys and shot him a sharp glare.
Then, in a stern voice, she declared, "Jacaerys Velaryon, this is the consequence of your reckless actions! You must take responsibility for this!"
With that, she turned on her heel and followed after the maesters, disappearing into the castle.
Compared to Rhaenyra, Daemon's emotions were far less visible.
But Jacaerys, who had lived under his tutelage for seven years, knew the truth—
The calmer Daemon appeared on the surface, the fiercer the storm brewing in his heart.
"Jace, tell me everything in detail. Leave nothing out."
"Yes, Father!"
Jacaerys nodded in response and proceeded to recount every detail—
From the assassination attempt to the burning of the city, not a single event was omitted.
Daemon listened in silence. Then, a slow smirk curled his lips.
"Well done. Those Tyroshi bastards dared to lay hands on one of true dragon blood. It seems I should make a trip to Essos on Caraxes sometime soon. But for now…
Little Jace, what is your plan?"
At Daemon's words, Jacaerys turned his gaze toward the southwest, where King's Landing lay.
His voice was calm but firm as he said, "Blood must be repaid with blood. However, Westeros is not the same as Essos."
Indeed.
No matter how wantonly Jacaerys acted in Essos, it would not shake his foundation.
But Westeros was different.
If he dared to ride Vermex to burn down Oldtown and House Hightower, it would not just be the noble houses of the Seven Kingdoms that turned against him—Even House Velaryon would withdraw its support.
The lords and ladies of noble birth might weave their schemes in the shadows, but on the surface, they all upheld the rules of the great game of power.
If Jacaerys could burn the Hightowers today, what was to stop him from burning their houses tomorrow?
A dragonrider who shattered the rules of the game was someone no noble in Westeros would tolerate.
Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had Baela placed in her own chambers, personally overseeing every detail of her care.
She ordered the maester to change her bandages, instructed the maids to gently wipe her down, and ensured she was clothed in soft, comfortable nightwear.
By the time Rhaenyra had completely settled Baela in, the night had already fallen.
Only then did Rhaenyra summon a servant, instructing them to fetch Jacaerys. She wished to speak with him once more.
Yet, after what felt like an eternity, the servant returned with an alarming report—
Prince Jacaerys had already left Dragonstone.
And Daemon had gone with him.
More importantly—both of them had left on their dragons.
Something disastrous was about to happen.
That was the first thought that seized Rhaenyra's mind.
Without a moment's hesitation, she turned and sprinted toward the Dragonstone dragonpit, her heart pounding in her chest.
..
..
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[Chapter End's]
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