Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Fleming was a 16-year-old boy who had only recently joined the Reese Navy. His youthful face, still full of innocence, resembled a freshly bloomed flower, but there was an undeniable energy about him.

Thanks to his father's wealth and influence, Fleming had secured a relatively safe lookout position aboard the ship. Though still inexperienced, his heart longed for the sea, its vastness beckoning to him. From his position atop the observation pole, he was less affected by the tense atmosphere below. While he felt a hint of nervousness, he remained relatively calm compared to the others.

Sometimes, he would gaze far out at the endless expanse of water, feeling the liberating breath of the sea breeze. At other times, his eyes would shift downward to the port of Lys City, where frantic activity unfolded below him.

Suddenly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. At first, it was nothing more than a faint, almost imperceptible dot, barely distinguishable against the blue backdrop. But then, like a ship breaking through the fog, half a sail emerged, splitting the tranquility of the sea. Gradually, more black shapes appeared on the horizon, steadily becoming clearer.

Fleming froze, momentarily stunned. His mind went blank. It wasn't until a sharp, high-pitched horn echoed from a nearby warship that he snapped back to reality. Without hesitation, he grabbed his own horn and blew into it, signaling the alarm.

The distant fleet loomed closer, emerging from the sea like a massive beast rising from the depths.

Under the clear, cloudless sky, the sun shone brightly, its rays bouncing off the calm sea like a sheet of blue satin. The Belleris led the fleet, cutting through the water with its sharp bow, splitting the waves like a blade. The ship's hull rose and fell with the rhythm of the sea, while the sails swelled in the wind, straining to break free from their ropes.

Gavin stood at the bow of the Belleris, his eyes fixed on the approaching Lys Island and the fleet already forming on the water's surface. His expression was calm, unwavering—there was no sign of panic or unease.

He nodded silently to Hassan, who stood beside him.

Hassan, understanding the unspoken command, turned with authority. "Sound the battle horn! Prepare the fleet for combat! Adjust the sails on all ships!"

The sharp, passionate blast of the horn cut through the stillness of the sea like a clap of thunder. The air seemed to crackle with the energy of impending battle.

The fleet moved swiftly, the sailors working in unison. The crew deftly adjusted the sails, pulling ropes and shifting yards in a smooth, coordinated effort. The ships turned, shifting their course with the grace of a school of fish moving as one.

As the fleet reformed into position, it seemed to move like a single, massive beast, its movements fluid and precise.

Boxes containing the special dragon-hunting crossbows were swiftly brought onto the deck. Soldiers, muscles straining with effort, unloaded them and set them up in quick succession.

The soldiers ripped open the protective tarps, revealing the fearsome ballistae beneath. Together, they worked to turn the heavy wheels, each turn building more and more destructive power. Their breathing was steady, the low sound of horns accompanying their efforts.

Meanwhile, the archers prepared their bows. They tested the tension of the strings, ensuring that each was perfectly calibrated for the battle ahead. The arrows gleamed coldly in the sunlight, sharp and deadly. Each archer selected their weapon carefully, nocking an arrow, then drawing the string back with practiced precision.

On the Belleris, Gavin's face was like stone—cold, resolute, and unyielding. He donned his shining armor, the metal glinting in the sunlight as though it were alive with power. He grasped his formidable dragonbone bow with one hand, and with the other, he mounted Syndor, the mighty dragon that had been his companion for countless battles.

As Gavin settled on Syndor's back, the dragon stirred, sensing its master's determination. A flicker of flame sparked in its eyes, an uncontainable fury, as though it would burn all enemies in its path.

At Gavin's low command, Syndor spread its massive wings. The wind roared as the dragon beat its wings, creating a powerful gust that whipped through the hair of those around them. The air seemed to tremble in anticipation.

With a powerful surge, Syndor launched itself into the sky, its speed so incredible that it seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. The dragon's form glowed with a radiant light under the sun, majestic and godlike, as it ascended toward the heavens.

Higher and higher it soared, its wings cutting through the air with a thunderous sound that sent shivers through the hearts of everyone below. Gavin sat firmly on the dragon's back, his gaze cool and piercing, scanning the battlefield below. The Reese fleet surged forward beneath them, its warships slicing through the water like the jaws of a monstrous beast.

The tension in the air was palpable. It felt as though even the sea itself held its breath.

Hassan, standing beside Gavin, drew in a deep breath, his eyes scanning the enemy fleet. With a roar, he bellowed, "Loyal soldiers of the Belleris family! We are here to conquer the corrupt Reese! Show your courage, keep your wits about you, and let the gods bless our righteous cause. For victory! For the Stone Steps Islands! For Gavin Belleris! Forward, to battle!"

His voice rang out across the deck, a powerful rallying cry that ignited the hearts of the soldiers. They stood tall, their blood pumping with renewed vigor.

At Hassan's command, the fleet surged forward, their sails billowing in the wind. The ships moved with the speed of a stampede, cutting through the water with relentless determination. A dozen warships raced ahead of the Belleris, their oars cutting through the waves as they surged toward the enemy, unstoppable in their charge.