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With a resounding roar, Vermax unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, reducing more than a dozen bound and terrified Bloodstone soldiers to ashes in an instant.
These men were driven by greed. Even after Jacaerys had addressed them, they still dared to hoard loot for themselves.
Wasn't this the perfect opportunity to make an example of them?
Once the stick had been wielded, it was time for the carrot to be offered.
Jacaerys announced that today's spoils of war would be distributed at twice the usual rate, based on the battle contributions recorded by Coleman and his enforcement team.
From this day forth, whenever they sacked a town, there would be no restrictions after the city fell. Loot would be distributed strictly according to merit in battle.
Jacaerys' intent was clear—the more they fought for him, the greater their rewards would be.
At this stage, what he needed was not a righteous army concerned with upholding human rights.
He needed a pack of ravenous beasts, soldiers as fierce as wolves and tigers, who could tear his enemies apart without hesitation.
Take Oak Town, for example. It was a settlement built by wealthy slave merchants. The outer city held essential supplies desperately needed by Bloodstone, but the true wealth lay within the inner city—where Magomar the Governor resided.
After conducting a thorough inventory, aside from the 1,500 Gold Dragons Jacaerys had already set aside for purchasing grain, the inner city treasury yielded the following:
2,700 Lysene Gold Coins, which, at an exchange rate of 2 to 1, amounted to 1,350 Westerosi Gold Dragons
Ten large chests filled with Lysene silver and copper coins
One chest of aquamarines, one chest of pearls, and a vast assortment of corals in various colors
Based on Coleman's rough estimates, the total value of these treasury spoils amounted to approximately 3,000 Gold Dragons, factoring in the worth of the silver, copper, and gemstones.
For a minor noble, this would have been an enormous fortune.
For Jacaerys?
It was merely enough to purchase 300 suits of high-quality armor.
Or, to put it another way—100 Unsullied soldiers.
The Unsullied, trained in Astapor, were legendary across Essos. They knew no fear, no pain, and had no sense of self. Stripped of emotion, they were relentless in battle, their combat prowess ranking among the very best in both Westeros and Essos.
Now that Jacaerys could no longer rely on the Velaryon fleet for military support, he had begun to seriously consider how best to expand his forces.
Could he conscript captured enemy soldiers?
Absolutely not.
Those prisoners were his primary source of "trait points", the key to enhancing Vermax.
Could he rely on noble houses that might defect to his cause in the future?
That was even more dangerous.
Such troops would be no different from the former pirates who had converted into Bloodstone soldiers—usable, but never fully trustworthy.
Who was to say they wouldn't betray him, just as the Velaryons had?
If he wanted a truly loyal force in the shortest time possible, there was no better option than the Unsullied—soldiers who recognized only the lash, not the master.
For a fleeting moment, he even considered following in Daenerys Targaryen's footsteps—using Vermax to seize an entire Unsullied army for free.
But given his current reputation—paired with the fully grown dragon at his command—Jacaerys suspected that if he so much as set foot in Astapor, the Good Masters would order the Unsullied to fight to the death.
However, his raid on Oak Town had proven one important thing:
In Essos, as long as one had money, anything could be bought.
By plundering the wealth of other Free Cities, he could continuously fund the purchase of Unsullied from Astapor.
And when the time was right, Jacaerys would march on Astapor himself and shatter this colossal vault of wealth.
That way, he wouldn't just acquire an entire army of Unsullied—he would also claim a vast fortune for himself.
The perfect plan!
For now, however, he chose to spare the grotesquely obese Governor Magomar.
Communication across Westeros was already abysmal, and Essos—without ravens—was even worse.
Governor Magomar, with his strong ties to other agricultural towns, could be useful as a middleman to open doors for future business.
Once he introduced Jacaerys as a wealthy buyer, wouldn't the other town leaders be eternally grateful to him?
With a thunderous roar, Vermax soared into the skies.
Below, the Bloodstone fleet, laden with the spoils of war, set sail from the harbor.
And as they departed, Jacaerys unleashed dragonfire upon Oak Island, reducing every building and field to cinders.
He was employing scorched earth tactics right in the heart of enemy territory.
There was no way Oak Island would recover in time to plant crops this year.
By next spring, the land—enriched by its own ashes and the fertilizers left behind—would become even more fertile.
But by then… who would the island belong to?
---
On the voyage back to Bloodstone, Jacaerys finally opened his trait panel.
His raid on Oak Town had earned him a total of 5,820 trait points.
Combined with the 8,908 points he had previously accumulated—including a few dozen gained through eating—his total now stood at 14,728 trait points.
Yet, the trait panel showed no indication that new abilities could be unlocked.
If the issue wasn't insufficient points, then the problem must have been the quality of the traits themselves.
Jacaerys had focused on unlocking new traits to enhance his combat strength, but the four remaining abilities were still green-tier.
After a brief moment of contemplation, he spent 10,000 trait points to upgrade Hardened Skin.
[Hardened Skin (Blue): Defense +50%]
He chose not to upgrade Iron-Walled Strategist, as this special trait's effectiveness was ultimately tied to Vermax's defensive capabilities.
Furthermore, Hardened Skin had already proven to be an exceptional asset during his close combat engagements with Sunfyre.
For the time being, the Bloodstone fleet continued to employ their cunning strategy of purchasing grain at exorbitant prices, reaping significant rewards each time.
Four major agricultural strongholds near the Stepstones—belonging to Lys and Myr—fell victim to their merciless plundering and subsequent destruction.
Meanwhile, half of the captives whom Jacaerys had released found their way back to Lys and Myr through various means. Upon their return, they wasted no time in spreading exaggerated tales of his brutality, denouncing his atrocities with fervor.
---
For years, the High Council of the Triarchy had always convened in Tyrosh, but this time, the meeting was being held in the grand palace of Myr.
Despite its grandiose name, this so-called ruling body of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters was notorious for descending into chaos halfway through each session. It was a regular occurrence for discussions to spiral into heated arguments, which inevitably led to outright brawls.
After all, each of the thirty-three magisters fought only for their own interests.
Unlike previous occasions, however, tensions flared the moment this meeting began.
The thirty-three magisters were already on edge, their hostility palpable, each prepared to use brute force to assert their version of the truth.
BANG!
A magister from Myr—dressed in a flowing white silk robe, his head wrapped in a fine gauze turban—slammed his hand against the long council table. With a furious glare, he pointed at another magister—a man who had dyed both his hair and beard a deep shade of blue—and bellowed in anger:
"Archon Pachek, how do you explain yourself?! That Westerosi demon neither blockaded your sea routes nor pillaged your towns. Who in the seven hells knows whether you Tyroshi bastards have been colluding with him in secret?! Just like your dealings with that Queen Racallio!"
"Nonsense!" Pachek roared back, his face turning red with fury. "Who said he didn't attack us?! Pryr Town was razed to the ground, and seven thousand Tyroshi citizens perished! Less than two thousand survived! And if that wasn't enough, he later flew his damn dragon right to our gates and set our very walls ablaze!"
The Myrish magister scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hah! Spare me your pathetic excuses! Those events happened in the beginning, and I know for a fact that you even sent that demon a generous tribute!"
Pachek clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. "I did send him a gift, yes—but he never accepted it!"
From the other side of the chamber, another magister interjected with a mocking smirk. "Oh? He may not have taken it openly, but who's to say what deals you struck with him behind closed doors? Maybe you're just waiting for the perfect moment to stab us in the back—let that Westerosi bastard destroy Lys and Myr first, so you Tyroshi can swoop in to divide our lands and wealth among yourselves!"
"Bah! Rubbish!" Pachek spat on the floor, his anger reaching its peak. "Is this the best distraction you Lyseni can come up with? Shifting the blame onto Tyrosh?
His gaze swept across the chamber as he continued. "Let me remind you—our so-called 'Kingdom of the Three Daughters' navy is commanded by someone you pushed forward—Sharako Lohar! That fool has been promising for over a month that he would launch a counterattack on the Stepstones. And what has he done? Nothing! He hasn't even sailed into their waters! Meanwhile, our cities have been pillaged and burned one after another!"
A Lyseni magister scoffed. "Hmph! Do you think Volantis will sit idly by? Sharako Lohar cannot afford to withdraw his fleets, or else those Volantene mongrels will seize the opportunity to press in on our borders! And let's not forget—Pentos, which once aided Daemon Targaryen, is also watching us closely!"
A cold sneer twisted Pachek's lips. "Oh? So what you're saying is—we should just let Jacaerys Velaryon plunder our lands at will? If that's the case, then I, for one, don't care anymore!"
With that, he spread his arms wide, a look of feigned indifference settling on his face.
"Enough!"
A powerful voice boomed across the chamber, silencing the growing turmoil.
A magister from Lys, a towering man with a thick, unkempt beard, slowly rose to his feet.
His sharp gaze locked onto Pachek as he strode forward, placing a firm hand on the Tyroshi's shoulder. Lowering his voice, he murmured,
"Archon Pachek, I trust that Tyrosh would never betray the Kingdom of the Three Daughters.
His lips curled into a thin smile as he continued,
"Sharako Lohar has recently devised a most... exquisite battle strategy. However, it requires your full cooperation."
..
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[Chapter End's]
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