Chapter 381: Dornish Invasion!
A Topless Tower, was a special building in ancient Valyria.
It was rumored to be dedicated to the forty Dragonlord families, housing the best Bloodmages and Pyromancers. These experts studied magic day and night, guided the armies of the expedition, and taught the Dragonlord heirs their knowledge.
Rhaegar's heart thumped, and he asked slowly, "You have similar drawings?"
Constructing a Topless tower was a monumental task, akin to the grand high towers of House Hightower in Oldtown, nearly impossible for Westerosi craftsmen to replicate.
Varys smiled knowingly. "Essos has a long history, and much of its knowledge is intentionally buried. I happen to be good at unearthing it."
Rhaegar pondered for a moment before nodding in agreement.
Both Westeros and Essos were steeped in legends and secrets, often jealously guarded and hidden away. Those grounded in their land's history preferred to bury such knowledge rather than share it.
After a brief smile, Rhaegar adopted a serious tone. "I will hire you, but for now, you must stay in Lys. You are not permitted to set foot in Westeros."
Rhaegar was cautious by nature and wary of potential threats. Rhaenyra and the unborn child she carried were his life, and he couldn't risk having a dangerous Bloodmage nearby.
Varys dropped to one knee and said humbly, "Thank you for your trust, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."
Rhaegar scrutinized him and stated bluntly, "I'm considering building a topless tower in the future. You'll have your hands full."
Glancing at Johanna, he added sharply, "The Magister's political structure is flawed. Slavery must be dismantled, and a new system established, or there will be great trouble."
Rhaegar, an exceptionally gifted dreamwalker, had experienced countless dreams and understood the harm and cruelty of slavery.
The end of slavery represented the birth of monarchy. The Iron Throne of the Targaryens could rule the city-state, but the placement and survival of freed slaves would constantly threaten the rule of those in power.
With slave masters, slaves had oppression but also meals. Without slave masters, slaves would lose their basic sustenance and might try to overthrow their new rulers.
Johanna, momentarily stunned, responded quietly, "I've recruited many slaves to join the city-state's construction team, and there's a growing demand for various occupations."
In the nine free trade city-states, excluding a few inland and northernmost cold city-states, harbor cities like Pentos and Braavos were very wealthy. Braavos, with its unique system, powerful fleet, and "Iron Bank," controlled the world's economy and hated slavery.
The other city-states, including the Triarchy, Volantis, and Pentos (which signed the "Abolition of Slavery" after its defeat), required many slaves to work. These city-states were elective, with citizens having voting rights, but their land was insufficient to be divided among everyone.
Thus, slavery was born and used extensively. Slaves had no rights and weren't eligible to vote. They didn't need land, just sustenance, and performed over 80% of the labor in the city-states. Over time, the number of civilians dwindled while the number of slaves increased, except for the small group of "rich" people at the top.
Rhaegar aimed to disrupt this pyramid, pulling the rich from their pedestals and integrating the slaves into the commoners. The land and work in the city-state weren't enough to support so many commoners, so earning wealth through seafaring trade was essential.
Rhaegar thought about it and joked, "If it's not feasible, we might consider moving some of the population back to Westeros to reclaim the unclaimed wastelands."
"Your question is very prescient. I will give it serious consideration."
Johanna's eyes dropped and she fell into deep thought. The complete abolition of slavery would mean a great cleansing and change for Lys. Change meant danger and could easily overthrow the existing rule. However, Rhaegar had suggested maritime trade and industrial development, so she might be able to take a chance.
The conversation ended, and Johanna and Varys left one by one. Before leaving, Varys hesitated and said, "Prince, I wish for the safe birth of your heir."
His words were strange, and his eyes glanced vaguely at Rhaegar's face, leaving him confused.
Rhaegar froze for a moment, then became extremely alert. The Bloodmage's knowledge covered many fields, and it was possible he had insights into healing or divination.
Rhaegar lost his appetite and ordered the elite of the Second Son Regiment guarding the gate to summon someone.
In less than a quarter of an hour, Syrio arrived with a dozen figures in black robes, walking silently.
"Prince."
Syrio saluted respectfully, raising his hand to point at the black-robed men. "They are members of the Shadow. What can I do for you?"
Rhaegar glanced at them and asked casually, "News from Dragonstone Island?"
Syrio, once the chief swordsman of Braavos and proficient in the "Water Dance" sword art, was skilled in assassination. Over the years, he had trained dozens of "shadows" to serve as intelligence scouts in various places.
Hearing the prince's inquiry, Syrio replied, "Dragonstone Island is guarded by Dragonkeepers. The Princess is safe, and the fetus is stable, Lady Laena's is also in a normal condition."
"That's good."
Rhaegar felt slightly relieved and asked, "Has Aunt Rhaenys left?"
"Yes. The people of Myr were causing trouble and needed to be suppressed by a Targaryen dragon," Syrio said.
Myr differed from Lys. Both civilians and slaves had been spared by the dragons, and those with intentions to create rebellion had provoked unrest. Once Lys was stabilized and Tyrosh was conquered, it would be time to address Myr's political structure.
Having asked what he needed, Rhaegar held his forehead helplessly. "Keep an eye on Braavos and Dorne. I always feel unsettled."
An enemy hiding in the shadows and not making a move could be more terrifying than an active threat. It would soon be time to return to King's Landing to face troublemakers from all sides.
...
Dornish Territory
Sunspear, Fortress of House Martell and Political Capital of Dorne
Located on the southeastern coast of Westeros, Sunspear is surrounded by the sea on three sides, just north of the Greenblood River. The castle, built of brownish-brown clay and straw, is surrounded by a triple-curved wall, giving it an imposing and beautiful appearance.
In the center of the citadel are several tall towers, including the Tower of the Sun - a magnificent structure with a golden vault and leaded glass. In the throne room, two large carved lances and sun tattoos stand side by side.
A figure sits on the seat of the carved lance, murmuring, "Lys has fallen as well." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The voice, magnetic and filled with the experience of a middle-aged man, belongs to Qoren Martell, Prince of Dorne. As he sits up straight, his handsome features come into view: long, dark hair, firm muscles under brown skin, and that exotic allure that is unique to the Dornish people, as if carved by knife and axe. He wears a thin yellow-brown robe with a low neckline, revealing his large pectoral muscles and exuding a strong masculine charm.
Qoren snorts and leans back in his chair, sneering, "That fool Bambaro, does he really think that taming a wild dragon is enough to fight the Iron Throne?
After more than a hundred years of development, House Targaryen is in its prime, boasting six adult dragon riders, not counting the Velaryon siblings.
As Prince of Dorne, Qoren is known as an idle adventurer. He once slipped into King's Landing as an herbalist during the failed First Battle of the Stepstones. At the entrance to Dragonpit, he had caught a distant glimpse of the teenage Heir Prince - a handsome young man with a boyish look who treated his men kindly.
Qoren marveled at the diversity of the gods, recalling how this boy, half his age, had tamed the world's largest wild dragon, Cannibal, at just six years old.
When the battle went badly, the boy mounted the dragon and launched a surprise attack on Lys, burning the city-state of the Triarchy to the ground.
Three fires in a row killed more than ten thousand people. Thinking about it, Qoren felt a chill at the back of his neck. He had no desire to cross paths with such a "Dragon Executioner."
Tap...
Light footsteps echoed outside the throne room, and a little girl with dark, curly hair ran in.
"Father!"
The little girl smiled brightly, her brown skin soft and her eyes with an expression that belied her age.
Qoren crumpled the letter he was holding out of habit and replied with a smile, "My daughter, who brought you here?"
Aliandra climbed deftly onto the carved sunburst seat and raised her chin proudly. "I come when I want to. No one can stop me."
Aliandra Martell had just turned six that year. As Qoren's firstborn daughter, she was the legal heir and future Princess of Dorne.
"Aliandra, you're being a bit disobedient," Qoren said, doting on his eldest daughter and resting his chin on one hand. "The Targaryen brats have taken Myr and Lys. When will you take a territory for your father?"
Aliandra, with her spirited personality and bright blue eyes, replied boldly, "Then marry me to that brat and my children will inherit all of Westeros and the overseas city-states!"
Qoren froze for a moment and then laughed. It was typical of his daughter to see things from such a unique perspective. It was hard to imagine a child saying such things.
Knock, Knock...
The heavy door of the throne room was knocked, and a tall figure with blond hair and blue eyes entered.
Seeing the visitor, Qoren's smile faded and he addressed him seriously, "Is the fleet ready?"
"Yes, Prince."
The visitor ignored the guards' warning glances and stepped onto the marble floor inside the hall. He was a dry, slender man who looked to be about 40 years old, with slightly rough skin and sparkling blue eyes, like a hawk waiting to hunt.
On his white frock coat, he wore a black gate House crest on the sand—the emblem of House Yronwood, the most powerful ancient family in Dorne besides House Martell.
Qoren looked at him and explained, "Lord Olyvar, the fleet in the harbors of Sunspear and Planky Town must be ready to attack the Stormlands."
Olyvar bowed his head respectfully. "Braavos has sent a large amount of armaments, enough for a frontal assault on the Stormlands."
"The Sealord of Braavos is a fool, but a generous one," Qoren judged, then pointedly reminded, "Send a message to the vultures in the Red Mountains to hurry. Do not let the Iron Throne take the Triarchy so easily."
The Free Cities' greatest strength was their control of the ports. Now that the Stepstone Islands had fallen to the Iron Throne, the Triarchy was being occupied one by one. The ports in the southern part of the Narrow Sea, such as Sunspear and Planky Town, would not be able to trade smoothly in the future, their routes would likely be blocked.
Olyvar nodded gently and said solemnly, "Prince, don't worry. The armies of the Riverlands and the Reach are traditionally weak, and the Lord of Highgarden is an old man. The vultures will gnaw at him."
After a few more pre-battle preparations, he excused himself and left.
Qoren watched his back, licked the corner of his lips, and grinned. "Be careful, but don't die at the hands of the Stormlands army."
Dorne had been silent for a long time, reaping the benefits of Braavos and the Triarchy. Internally, Dorne was not united; there were always radicals and conservatives.
The radicals believed they should attack the Stormlands and the Riverlands, plundering wealth to feed the barren lands. The conservatives thought the radicals were too timid and advocated joining forces with Braavos and the Triarchy to attack the Iron Throne and conquer richer lands.
Caught between these factions, Qoren's sensible decisions were often not accepted, leading him to instigate a war to placate both sides. Without war, the nobles under his rule grew stronger daily, eventually threatening House Martell's dominance.
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