Chapter 12: The Dragon's Shadow Over Myr
The vast, windswept plain where Khal Zorro's pride had been shattered into dust and ash became the crucible for Vaelyx Targaryen's Dragon's Horde. The thirty thousand surviving Dothraki screamers, stripped of their arrogant Khal and confronted with the undeniable reality of dragon fire, were a volatile, terrified mass. Vaelyx, with the chilling pragmatism of Voldemort and the nascent imperiousness of a Targaryen Dragon Lord, began the brutal process of forging them into an instrument of his will.
Dissent, in the early days, was met with swift and spectacular annihilation. A hulking bloodrider, one of Zorro's former favorites, dared to spit at Kaelen's feet and curse the "foreign demon." Before Kaelen could even draw his Valyrian steel, Vorlag, sensing Vaelyx's cold fury, descended from the sky like a black thunderbolt, his jaws snapping the defiant Dothraki in half with a sickening crunch. The assembled screamers, forced to witness the execution, fell silent, their faces a mixture of terror and dawning, horrified respect. There would be no challenging the Dragon Khal.
Kaelen, now Vaelyx's undisputed Marshal of the Horde, assisted by Boros, whose sheer strength and brutal directness resonated with the Dothraki, began imposing a new order. The undisciplined raiding parties were restructured into mounted regiments, their traditional arakhs supplemented with better armor and steel weapons plundered from Zorro's hoard (and soon, Vaelyx planned, from conquered cities). Lyra, her network of scouts expanding, became Vaelyx's eyes and ears, her quiet efficiency a stark contrast to the Dothraki's boisterousness. She established a surprisingly effective intelligence network within the horde, identifying potential troublemakers and sources of unrest before they could fester.
The dragons – primarily Vorlag, Ignis, and Tempest – were a constant, awe-inspiring presence. Vaelyx would conduct "training exercises," pitting them against mock targets, their devastating fire a daily reminder of his power. He began to speak to the assembled Dothraki in High Valyrian (a language many Essosi peoples held in some reverence, a tongue of past glories and sorcery), his voice magically amplified, weaving tales of the Dragon Lords of old, of his own lineage, and of a promised empire where the loyal would be rewarded beyond imagining. He was not merely a conqueror; he was a destiny made manifest.
Feeding the horde and its equine companions was a challenge, but the vast, rolling plains of the Dothraki Sea provided ample grazing, and their initial "allegiance" was cemented by allowing them to raid several Lhazareen shepherd villages, a brutal necessity to sate their bloodlust and secure immediate provisions. Vaelyx, however, tightly controlled these raids, preventing the wholesale slaughter the Dothraki favored. He needed the Lamb Men alive, if terrified, as a future taxable resource. The dragons themselves were still primarily sustained by the magically generated livestock within the suitcase, a secret Vaelyx guarded jealously. Their public feeding, when it occurred, was usually a spectacle – a particularly recalcitrant enemy or a monstrous beast of the plains consumed in dragon fire, further solidifying their terrifying legend.
His gaze soon turned towards the Free Cities. Myr, the city of artisans, famed for its lace, its lenses, and its disciplined slave soldiers, became his first target. It was wealthy, strategically located with a good port, and often embroiled in disputes with Lys and Tyrosh, making it politically vulnerable. Its capture would provide him with a solid economic base, skilled craftsmen, and potentially, a core of reliable infantry.
The Dragon's Horde began its march south-west, a thirty-thousand-strong river of horsemen, their traditional bells now often interspersed with the clank of newly acquired armor. At their head rode Vaelyx, often with Vorlag or Ignis circling lazily overhead, their massive shadows a terrifying portent for any who witnessed their passage. News of the Dragon Khal, the horselord who commanded actual dragons, spread like a plague of fear towards the coast.
Lyra's scouts, having infiltrated Myr disguised as traders and refugees, returned with detailed reports. The city was ruled by a council of wealthy Magisters, currently squabbling amongst themselves. Their defenses consisted of high stone walls, a well-equipped city watch, several thousand highly disciplined Myrish slave crossbowmen, and a fleet of war galleys. They had also, Lyra reported, hired the Company of the Cat, a noted sellsword company, to bolster their defenses, clearly unnerved by the rumors emanating from the Dothraki Sea.
Vaelyx sent an envoy to Myr – a captured Dothraki Ko, now utterly subservient – bearing outrageous demands: the immediate surrender of the city, a tribute of half its treasury, and the delivery of a thousand of its finest artisans and a thousand slave soldiers to serve the Dragon Khal. The Myrish Magisters, predictably, responded with scornful defiance, though Lyra's agents within the city reported that the message had sown considerable panic among the populace and deepened the divisions within the ruling council.
As the Dragon's Horde approached the verdant lands surrounding Myr, they began to encounter Myrish patrols. These were swiftly annihilated, often before they could even raise an alarm, the Dothraki screamers, now fighting with a new, dragon-inspired ferocity, overwhelming them. Vaelyx allowed no survivors to carry tales, save those Lyra deemed useful for spreading specific, fear-inducing narratives.
The siege of Myr began not with a traditional encirclement, but with a calculated display of overwhelming terror. As the Myrish defenders manned their walls, their faces a mixture of defiance and apprehension, Vaelyx, from a rise overlooking the city, gave the command.
Vorlag, Ignis, and Tempest ascended into the sky, their roars shaking the very foundations of Myr. They swept over the city, not yet unleashing their full fury, but their mere presence, the beating of their colossal wings, the acrid scent of their brimstone breath, sent waves of panic through the streets. Horses bolted, citizens screamed, and even the disciplined sellswords of the Company of the Cat looked to the skies with unease.
The Myrish Magisters, however, were not entirely cowed. They had faced threats before. Their archers and crossbowmen unleashed volleys, their siege engines hurled massive stones. Most fell short or glanced harmlessly off the dragons' thick hides. The Company of the Cat, under their grizzled commander, Meero, formed disciplined shield walls, prepared to repel any assault.
Vaelyx observed the city's defenses, a cold smile playing on his lips. They think they understand the threat.
The next day, as a Myrish galley attempted to harass his forces gathering along the coast, Vaelyx decided it was time to unveil another of his children. A sudden, unnatural squall blew in from the sea – a squall subtly encouraged and guided by Vaelyx's own weather magic. Dark clouds gathered, lightning flickered.
Then, from the heart of the storm, Argentus descended. His bronze and silver scales seemed to absorb the lightning, his form crackling with raw, blue-white energy. With a shriek that sounded like tearing metal, he unleashed a bolt of concentrated lightning from his maw, striking the Myrish galley's mast. The mast exploded into splinters, the ship crippled and burning. Argentus then swept over the city walls, not breathing fire, but loosing targeted blasts of his electrical energy, shorting out siege engines and sending defenders sprawling with concussive force.
The Myrish defenders, who had steeled themselves for fire, were now confronted with a dragon that commanded the very storms. Their morale, already strained, began to crack.
The following dawn, Vaelyx added another layer to their terror. As his Dothraki forces began a series of probing attacks against the city gates, testing the defenses, a section of the Myrish wall suddenly shimmered with a brilliant, golden light. Aurumel, the cream and gold dragon, flew gracefully above it, not attacking, but bathing the Serpent's Scale veterans leading the assault in its soft, protective luminescence. Arrows and crossbow bolts that flew towards them seemed to veer away at the last moment, or shatter harmlessly against an invisible barrier. Meanwhile, Aurumel also projected subtle, disorienting illusions towards the defenders on that section of the wall, making the ground seem to waver, or their comrades appear as distorted, menacing shapes.
The Myrish forces on that wall segment broke, falling back in confusion and fear, convinced they were facing sorcery beyond their comprehension. Kaelen's warriors, protected and emboldened, gained a foothold on the battlements.
With five dragons now revealed – each possessing different, terrifying abilities – the psychological impact on Myr was devastating. They were not facing a barbarian horde with a few pet monsters; they were facing a Dragon Lord who commanded a flight of seemingly elemental beings.
The final assault was a masterpiece of coordinated destruction. While Vorlag and Ignis created breaches in the northern walls with sustained blasts of dragon fire, Tempest descended upon the harbor, his powerful wingbeats creating miniature hurricanes that smashed Myrish ships against their moorings, his roars and concussive force shattering the morale of the port defenders. Argentus continued to harass key defensive towers with targeted lightning strikes, while Aurumel provided cover for the advancing Serpent's Scale shock troops pouring through the breaches.
The Dothraki, under Boros, bypassed the main defenses, their speed allowing them to outflank and annihilate a relief column attempting to reinforce the city from inland. Lyra, during the chaos, managed to contact a group of disgruntled pit fighters and slaves who, promised freedom and spoils by Vaelyx's agents, started uprisings within the city, sabotaging defenses and opening a minor gate from the inside.
Vaelyx himself, cloaked and riding at the head of his personal guard, entered the city through the gate opened by Lyra's insurgents. He used his magic sparingly but decisively, shattering barricades, striking down elite Myrish guards with precise Dark Curses, his presence an aura of cold, irresistible command. The Company of the Cat, caught between dragon fire, disciplined infantry, Dothraki screamers, and internal revolt, finally broke, their commander Meero reportedly fleeing through the sewers.
The sack of Myr was brutal, but controlled. Vaelyx allowed his Dothraki a degree of plunder – a necessary reward to maintain their loyalty – but Kaelen and the Serpent's Scale veterans enforced strict orders against damaging key infrastructure. Artisan workshops, libraries, shipyards, and the slave pens (filled with potential recruits) were secured. Surviving Magisters were rounded up, their treasuries seized. Vaelyx presided over their forced submission in the city's main plaza, Ignis and Vorlag flanking him, their fiery breath a constant reminder of his authority.
He had Kaelen appointed Governor of Myr, tasked with restoring order and integrating the city's resources into Vaelyx's burgeoning war machine. Skilled artisans were put to work crafting superior weapons and armor. The Myrish fleet was commandeered. And from the slave pens, Vaelyx began to select individuals for a new kind of army – men and women bound not by chains, but by magical oaths of fealty and the promise of a new order under the Dragon Lord. He had no interest in abolishing slavery as an institution, merely in redirecting its products to his own benefit.
The fall of Myr, a proud Free City, to the Dragon Khal and his terrifying aerial host, sent shockwaves across Essos. Lys and Tyrosh, Myr's traditional rivals, reacted with a mixture of fear and opportunistic greed. Volantis, the ancient First Daughter of Valyria, stirred uneasily, its Tiger and Elephant factions momentarily united in their apprehension of this new, Targaryen-led power. Qarth and the slaver cities of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen whispered fearfully of the dragons returned.
Vaelyx Targaryen stood on the highest tower of the Magisters' palace in Myr, the black silhouette of his personal banner – a three-headed dragon breathing golden, crimson, and stormy blue fire – now flying over the conquered city. Five of his dragons circled in the sky above, a clear message to the world. The remaining two, Astra and Veridian, their unique abilities still a closely guarded secret, remained his hidden aces.
He was no longer just a Dothraki Khal. He was a conqueror, a city-taker, a Dragon Lord in truth. His gaze swept over Myr, then turned eastward, towards the heart of Essos. His new Valyrian Empire was taking its first, bloody, fiery breaths.