Roxton Flowers suffered 4 assassination attempts before he and the Black Dragon parted ways for now.
The first was laughably embarrassing. Just some random guy who tried to climb up the side of the ship in the middle of the night.
One of his men had dealt with him by simply stepping on his hand, then throwing a barrel on his head as he surfaced after falling in the ocean depth.
The second and third attempts came later on the next day after he had gotten confirmation from Maelys that the betrothal and all that they had agreed on had been settled.
The attempts were in some ways even more stupidly obvious than the first, but it was also far more deadly.
Roxton had simply placed a dummy up on deck, equipped with his armor, cloak, and hood.
Normally, that would never have been enough, as the dummy would by nature stand completely still, but with the motions of the seas, it had moved in tact with the bobbing of the ship.
From a distance, it was very easy to mistake it for him.
The second and third attempts were surprise volleys from the Golden Company's feared hand-dragons.
The first one had come completely out of nowhere, as two dozen balls of metal suddenly punched into the ship.
He had of course been under the deck, and so had never been in any danger, from it, or the follow-up 2 hours later.
His crew, however, suffered 3 injuries, one of which was unfortunately fatal. Poor chubby Tom.
The other two were blows to the arms, and would probably have been fatal if he did not always keep a master aboard. As it was, they would not be doing any more strenuous work on this trip, but at least they should recover in time.
The fourth and final one was far and away the most serious.
As his ship had passed one of the old pirate mother's ships, suddenly, one of the siege dragons had gone off and blown a hole in both his and the pirate's ships.
Luckily, it was far above sea level, so it wouldn't sink either of them, but it was still quite a negative experience. And a reminder every time he walked through the deck, of the power of the Blackfyres dragons.
This time, the incident did get a reaction from Maelys.
He didn't stop to talk, but he did watch through a spyglass, as behind them, Maelys dragged a man up on deck, and burning red with anger, cleaved him in half.
And so, with that last attempt at his life for now behind him, Roxton set sail for the Arbor.
He had of course sent a raven, so his home would probably be quite busy once he got home.
And his stupid little brother had said he was insane to go court a rebel princess! Well… Paxter could fuck off. He'd get the Arbor, the birthright the little shit had always lauded over him.
Roxton was made for greater things.
I
As Daemona looked through the Myrish Telescope that the Saan fleet had been oh, so kind to let her borrow, she had many thoughts as she saw her first sight of the city walls.
Tyrosh was a large city, but the walls around it were something else.
Just as tall and thick as the walls of King's Landing, but in length, they made the city walls of Westeros' capital look like a simple ring fort.
The walls of Tyrosh went around the entire island, and Tyrosh was probably the size of Jamaica.
It was an old city, that has started as a simple Valyrian military outpost(Hence the walls), then, someone had discovered a special type of snail that only lived on their banks, that produced the most spectacular purple dye in the known world.
That purple dye had become the most sought-after color of the clothing of the old freehold's nobility, and Tyrosh had grown accordingly.
When the doom came to Valyria, Tyrosh had remained and had grown into a real power in Essos politics.
And today, this motley band of mercs, pirates, and merchants was going to topple it.
It was both ironic, and appropriate that the Blackfyres would be the one to topple this republic.
It was ironic, for after the family and their allies had lost it all after the redgrass field, it had been in Tyrosh that they had sought refuge amongst the departed Daemon's in-laws.
The family of Daemon Blackfyre's wife, Rohanne nee Adarys, daughter of the then archon of Tyrosh.
It was here that Bittersteel had eventually formed the Golden Company in order to prevent the exiled Westerosi from scattering to the four winds.
It was in every way, their birthplace.
And today, they were here to conquer it.
It was fitting, because at their side, was the scion of the family that had been their allies so long ago. Alequo Adarys.
In a rather fitting parallel to the Blackfyres, Adequo had been a rising star in Tyroshi Politics, destined to become the next Archon of Tyrosh.
But, as was often the case with corrupt republics, his success had frightened the then archon, who had attempted to kill him, and forced him and his children to Flee the republic that he had served so faithfully.
Once this conquest was done, they would install him as the monarch of the newly formed kingdom, and thus, repay the debt that the Blackfyres had to the family of Adarys of Tyrosh.
Brothers in arms, against the world.
The only thing Daemona could focus on, however, was the walls.
This was going to be a test, in quite a few ways.
For one, these were the strongest walls they had taken in so far in their campaign. The fact that they were roughly as strong as King's landing, made them excellent to use as a test for their artillery, to learn how long it would take for their artillery to lay low the walls to make a good breach.
Secondly, there was also the test of her leadership ability.
"Nervous lass?" A cheery voice, like old leather, called out behind her.
She turned to see the captain of the ship they were sailing on, Samarro Saan walking up to her.
In stark contrast to her, her father, or any of their Commanders, the old admiral turned pirate was dressed in an enormous, sky blue captain's coat that seemed two numbers too big on him. On it's back was the image of a naked, buxom blonde woman with enormous, long hair that was the image of his chosen Deity, the weeping lady of lys, also known as the lady of the waves.
She was sure many people interested in the history of this world would be rather interested to learn more about how the old faith of the sister men had survived in a different sect in Lys, but Daemona could not have cared less.
She REALLY didn't care about Saan's religious beliefs at the moment, and she hadn't cared when she had met him either.
Back then, she had been way too interested in the reason for his name.
The last Valyrian. A name he had not gotten due to his Valyrian features, which were a dime a dozen in Lys.
No, he had gotten that moniker for a much more spectacular reason. For just like Euron Greyjoy, Samarro Saan had sailed the smoking sea to Valyria and lived to tell the tale.
Well… The outskirts of it anyway.
Saan hadn't actually sailed to Valyria's main island, then made the trek through the demon-infested lands that were what remained of the lands of always summer, so he could visit the old capital like Euron Greyjoy had done. No, he had landed on the old Valyrian coastal city of Kypra, at the very easternmost edge of the old peninsula.
What he and his men had seen there, they refused to speak of to anyone, not their countrymen, and not allies of convenience.
What they had not kept secret, however, was the treasure trove of things they brought with them home.
24 Valyrian daggers, 14 Valyrian steel weapons, a plethora of Dragon bone, both from what had presumably been the skeletons of ancient dead dragons, and the carved jewelry variety, and of course, the thing that had caused Saan's exile.
For upon his skull, the old man proudly wore a laurel crown of shimmering Valyrian steel. A price that had once been worn by a long-dead Imperator of the Freehold, the old elected War leaders of the nation.
It was a spectacular achievement, to travel to any part of Valyria and return to tell the tale, and it had made his family wealthy beyond measure.
However, in that moment, the man had made a critical political error and had chosen to refuse to surrender the crown he had discovered.
And just like his old rival, the silvertongue, he had had his share of enemies that wanted him taken down a peg, and his refusal to give up a crown was the perfect excuse to oust him and his family from the city.
The nobility of Lys was not keen on any man who made even the smallest hint towards becoming king.
The joke had been on them, however, as when Saan had fled, almost a third of the Lyseni Armada had joined him. Such was the power of charisma, loyalty, and adoration forged in war, and success.
The older man stepped up to the deck, right by Mudd, who had his hand resting nervously in his sword. He nervously eyed the man's belt.
In said old man's belt, was a Valyrian steel sword, one that according to him, had been in his family for centuries.
Poison was not quite the sight that Blackfyre or Ice was, but it was a perfectly fine Valyrian steel saber, and it cleaved through steel as easily as any other of it's ilk.
The Old man made no moves to grab it though, and as he leaned over the railing, he didn't seem to be wary of the armed man beside him in the slightest.
"Worried? About what pray tell? Breaking down these walls, far, far outside the range of any trebuchet on the walls?"
"The Tyroshi use Ballistas, not Trebuchets, but be that as it may, this is going to be your first command as a leader in the field is it not?"
She swallowed.
"Yes… It is."
After they had broken the wall, they would split the army in two.
There were a lot of steps in the plan, but what it basically boiled down to was that Adarys and his men would be going around freeing the slaves of Tyrosh plantations, arming them, and adding their strength to their army.
While they were doing that, the Golden Company and the rest of the Armies would be going around, smashing any attempts at real armed resistance.
In essence, they would be doing the real, heavy work, while the Silvertongue went around and soaked up the good press of having personally freed all the slaves, thus getting all the glory and popularity from it.
It was a great plan, and would undoubtedly make him extremely popular with the liberated slaves.
It was also going to be her first attempt at leading men into battle.
That… Could go both very badly… Or very, very well.
Now that they had settled on her becoming the heir, Maelys had decided it was time for her to actually begin to lead.
If she was going to be a queen in her own right, she had to lead. Whether that be in the style of Tywin Lannister, or Robb Stark didn't matter.
What mattered was that the men followed her to victory.
Which was why the coming potential battles were so worrying.
They did not expect the Tyroshi city guards to be particularly dangerous. Their weaponry was far, far more powerful than anything the unfortunate soldiers inside these walls had to offer.
Which was both a blessing, and a curse for her.
Because if she LOST here, that was pretty much it as far as any respect she could hope to get from these men.
Not helping was that for better or worse, the truly talented Commanders of the company were the Westerosi Lordlings, and they were for the most part not here, with a few exceptions.
This was about getting the common men to follow her. If the men thought that she was just being propped up by the elite commanders, then the entire thing was all pointless.
So, it was all up to her to win these skirmishes.
No pressure or anything.
Just get in, scout for armies, and kill ANY soldier they saw. Preferably before they even got into formation.
It was supposed to be easy. Logic, the golden company leadership that was on board with her father's recent decisions, and her father all agreed it was a quick, simple, easy mission.
It was still absolutely terrifying. But… Compared to the thoughts of more dead children, the idea of dead Slavers in the fields… Didn't seem quite as bad.
"The first command is always the worst. It's the point where everything you've learned is put into actual use, and you learn whether you're a fool in a dashing coat or a man who knows how to use the wind at your back."
"I'll keep that in mind if I ever need to actually command a ship. At the moment, my foe will be men, not the sea."
Saan grinned.
"It's not so different in practice. Men are men, whether they are on land or sea. They think the same way. The only difference is that on the sea, there is nowhere to run, so if you just sink their ship, you can let the lady take care of them. On land, you cannot, so there is quite a bit of work involved."
"Yes… I am well aware." She said dryly.
"Speaking of human behavior… Why are there so damnably few men on the walls? They can't seriously be unaware that an attack is coming?"
"Oh, they know. The problem trying to defeat a landing fleet, however, is that unless there is a clear landing spot, you cannot actually predict where they will land. Alas for our poor tyroshi friends, all of Tyrosh's shores make for a good landing spot. That is their first problem. The second is their walls. One, massive wall that protects the entire city, and all it's farmlands and satellites is a great advantage… But you also need to have men to actually protect them."
Right… 1 man for every 15 meters of wall."
It was the same problem that the Night watch faced. How to protect a fortification of that size when an intruder could strike along it at any point in an attempt to cross it?
"Exactly. They do not know that we will land here, and as such, only a few watchmen are guarding this spot, just like most of the wall. No doubt they have sent a signal for reinforcements by now, but alas for them, this wall is not going to last long enough for that to matter."
"Right… and then the butcher's work."
"Aye…" The man's tone turned surprisingly soft and warm like he had suddenly become some old grandfather, rather than a pirate.
The actual thing he said was anything but grandfather though.
"Have you ever killed a man lass?"
She lowered her spyglass and looked over at him. She could feel both of her guard's attention turn to her, though she could only see one of them as she looked the old man in the eye.
"... Aye. I have."
And she had. On the night she had died the last time, she had protected her store against 4 damn looters.
5 people had died that night. Hopefully, that was something she would be able to avoid in the coming campaigns. More than anything else, it was the reason she didn't want to wage war like Robb Stark.
Give her a hundred yards between her and her enemies, and she would be the most content person in the world.
Saan looked her in the eyes, searching for something.
In the end, he just nodded.
"Good… That is good. The first kill is always the hardest. I've seen way too many young ones freeze after that first kill. Don't matter if they're wearing armor or not if they freeze. A hammer to the skull will kill you just as dead."
"Aye… I'll keep that in mind." And stay the hell away from the front.
