The fleet sailed west for a month and a half before the shores of the Disputed Lands appeared beyond the horizon.
What should have been a straightforward voyage became a slow test of discipline, endurance and preparation.
The sixty galleys purchased in Astapor had been judged seaworthy, but they were merchant vessels rather than warships.
Their hulls had been built to carry cargo between familiar ports, not transport ten thousand soldiers across thousands of miles of coastline.
Mortarion had known the journey would be uncomfortable.
He had underestimated how quickly discomfort could spread through an army trapped aboard crowded ships.
The Unsullied endured without complaint, though even their training could not prevent seasickness.
During the first week, hundreds struggled to keep down food whenever the waves became rough.
Men accustomed to standing firm beneath cavalry charges found themselves weakened by the constant movement of the decks.
Blue Bat reorganised the rotations after the first two days.
Soldiers suffering most severely were brought onto the upper decks whenever space permitted, while those who adjusted more easily slept below.
Units rotated between cramped holds and open air, preventing any single group from remaining beneath deck for too long.
The system did not make the voyage pleasant.
It made it bearable.
Mortarion travelled aboard Maelyra’s galley whenever he was not riding Anaxion.
The Lysene captain maintained authority through a mixture of experience, insults and an unwillingness to tolerate hesitation.
She shouted at sailors who allowed ropes to loosen, threatened men who blocked her deck and openly cursed the Good Masters for selling ships whose repairs had been completed too quickly.
Mortarion found her methods noisy but effective.
During the seventh day of the voyage, Maelyra discovered water gathering beneath the forward storage compartment.
The leak was minor, caused by a repaired plank shifting after several days of rough waves.
The sailors began pumping immediately.
Horon descended into the hold with two carpenters and returned with his clothing soaked to the waist.
“The repair was sound when we left Astapor,” the elderly shipwright reported.
“The timber has moved beneath the strain.
It can be sealed properly if we beach the vessel, although we can contain it until then.”
“How long can the ship remain afloat without permanent repairs?” Mortarion asked.
“It will remain afloat as long as the pumps continue and the opening does not widen.
I would rather repair it before discovering how quickly that changes.”
Maelyra folded her arms.
“There is a sheltered stretch of coast less than half a day ahead.
The charts mark a fishing settlement nearby, but the water should be shallow enough to beach several vessels.”
Mortarion looked towards the line of ships following them.
Stopping the entire fleet for a single repair would cost time, but leaving one galley behind would weaken their organisation and expose it to raiders.
“We will anchor there,” he decided.
“Inspect every ship while the fleet is stopped.
I would rather lose a day now than lose men and supplies later.”
The delay lasted two days.
The damaged galley was pulled into shallow water and repaired beneath Horon’s supervision.
Shipwrights spread throughout the fleet, examining hulls, rudders and rigging for damage caused since Astapor.
Three additional vessels required minor work.
One had split rigging.
Another had begun taking water around a poorly sealed oar port.
The third possessed a crack across part of its rudder that might have broken during the next storm.
Mortarion considered the delay worthwhile.
The fishing settlement watched the repairs from a distance.
Its people had fled inland when Anaxion landed upon the beach, leaving boats, nets and baskets scattered beside their homes.
Mortarion ordered the soldiers not to enter the settlement.
He also forbade the seizure of food.
The fleet possessed sufficient provisions, and stealing from frightened fishermen would damage the reputation he intended to build before reaching the Disputed Lands.
Maelyra seemed surprised by the restraint.
“Most captains would take what they needed and leave copper behind if they were feeling generous,” she said while watching Anaxion tear into a wild animal farther along the shore.
“I have enough food.
Taking theirs would be pointless.”
“Pointless theft has never stopped soldiers before.”
“Those soldiers were poorly controlled.”
Maelyra glanced towards the Unsullied guarding the repair crews.
“No one could accuse yours of that.”
Before departing, Mortarion left payment beside the largest home for the timber, water and fruit purchased from the few villagers willing to return.
He doubted they would remember his generosity more clearly than the enormous dragon resting on their shore, but both stories might travel west.
The voyage continued.
They followed the coastline whenever possible, stopping at isolated bays to refill water barrels and allow the soldiers to stretch their legs.
The fleet avoided major cities, though it passed close enough to several trading ports for their watchtowers to identify the number of ships.
News travelled faster than the galleys.
At the third port where Mortarion sent sailors ashore for provisions, the local harbourmaster already knew that a silver-haired dragonrider commanded the fleet.
The man had also heard that ten thousand foreign Unsullied travelled aboard the vessels.
The details grew more exaggerated with every retelling.
Some claimed Mortarion had conquered Astapor and stolen its ships.
Others believed he was a lost Targaryen prince returning from exile.
One merchant insisted Anaxion had been sleeping beneath Valyria since the Doom and had awakened only when Mortarion removed a sword from its skull.
Mortarion made no effort to correct the rumours.
A reputation had begun forming before he fought a single battle.
It was inaccurate, but it created curiosity and caution among those who encountered the fleet.
Both were useful.
Anaxion spent much of the journey travelling independently.
The dragon flew along the coast, hunting across empty stretches of land before returning to the fleet.
Mortarion sensed him even when he disappeared beyond the horizon, though the bond weakened with distance.
At first, Anaxion returned only when hunger or curiosity drew him back.
Mortarion gradually taught him to recognise the fleet’s position as something worth following.
Whenever the dragon returned promptly after a command, Mortarion responded with approval and allowed him to hunt without interference.
Anaxion still ignored commands that conflicted with his immediate desires, particularly when prey was nearby.
However, he no longer vanished for entire days without warning.
He learned to circle the leading ships and rest upon beaches close to where the fleet anchored.
The sailors became accustomed to his presence.
They never became comfortable.
Whenever Anaxion flew low over the masts, men abandoned ropes and ducked beneath whatever cover they could find.
Captains cursed as his wings disrupted sails, while horses below deck panicked at the sound of his roar.
Mortarion worked to reduce the problem.
He directed Anaxion to remain above the outer edges of the fleet rather than crossing directly over the ships.
The dragon obeyed perhaps six times out of ten.
The Unsullied adjusted more quickly than the sailors.
Blue Bat ordered formations to practise boarding and disembarking whenever the fleet stopped.
Soldiers learned how to move along narrow gangplanks without breaking order, how to lower bundled spears into boats and how to secure shields when waves struck the sides of a vessel.
Mortarion also required each unit to train upon the decks.
They could not march in formation, but they practised compact shield walls and controlled movements in confined spaces.
If pirates or hostile sailors attempted to board, the Unsullied would not be caught helpless simply because the battlefield moved beneath their feet.
The army suffered its first serious losses during the fourth week.
A storm reached the fleet shortly before nightfall.
The navigators had warned Mortarion that the wind was changing, but there was no safe harbour close enough to shelter sixty ships.
The captains lowered sails, secured the cargo and attempted to keep the vessels separated as the sea rose around them.
Rain erased the horizon.
The fleet’s signal lanterns disappeared one by one behind walls of dark water.
Ships became isolated, each surviving according to the ability of its crew.
Mortarion remained aboard Maelyra’s galley until the storm threatened to drive Anaxion away from the coastline.
He could feel the dragon’s anger through the bond.
Anaxion fought the wind above the fleet, struggling to remain close while lightning crossed the clouds.
Mortarion climbed onto his back despite Maelyra’s objections.
“You will be killed before you clear the mast,” she shouted over the storm.
“If Anaxion is lost, the danger to this fleet will become the least of my concerns.”
“The dragon has wings.
He can reach land without you.”
“He may also follow the wrong coastline and disappear for days.”
Maelyra seized a rope as the galley rolled beneath them.
“If you fall into this sea, no one will find enough of you to bury.”
Mortarion secured the riding strap around his waist.
Anaxion descended low enough for Mortarion to climb from the stern platform onto his foreleg.
The manoeuvre nearly threw him into the water when another wave lifted the galley.
The dragon launched before Mortarion was fully settled.
Rain struck his armour hard enough to obscure his vision.
Anaxion climbed above the highest waves, fighting through wind that pushed even his immense body sideways.
Mortarion did not attempt to command him through words.
The storm swallowed every sound.
He used the bond instead, pressing the image of the western coastline and the sheltered bay marked upon their charts.
Anaxion resisted, wanting to climb above the clouds rather than fly towards land.
Mortarion reinforced the direction.
The dragon finally turned.
They reached the coast before dawn.
Anaxion landed upon a rocky ridge overlooking the agreed harbour.
Mortarion remained beside him, maintaining the image of that location in the hope that the dragon would recognise it when the fleet appeared.
The first galleys arrived after sunrise.
Others followed throughout the day, sails torn and hulls damaged but still afloat.
Several had lost oars.
One arrived with part of its mast broken across the deck.
By nightfall, fifty-eight ships had reached the harbour.
The final two did not appear.
Scouts travelled along the coast the next morning.
Anaxion found the wreckage of one galley scattered across rocks several miles east.
Its hull had split after being driven ashore.
Thirty-seven soldiers and eleven sailors had drowned.
Most of the remaining men reached land by clinging to planks or broken pieces of the vessel.
They were exhausted and injured but alive.
The sixtieth galley arrived near sunset of the second day.
It had been driven far from the fleet and lost nearly all its sails, though its captain managed to follow the coastline towards the harbour.
Mortarion recorded every death.
The lost ship reduced the fleet to fifty-nine vessels, forcing the surviving soldiers and cargo to be redistributed.
Conditions became more crowded, but there was still enough space to continue.
The storm delayed them for six days.
Mortarion used that time to reconsider the fleet’s organisation.
The older galleys were placed within the centre, where stronger ships could assist them.
Additional emergency supplies were distributed among every vessel, and each soldier was assigned a length of rope or wooden float in case another ship went down.
The sea had taken more lives in one night than the army had lost during its entire first month.
Mortarion respected the lesson.
An enemy could be studied and defeated.
The sea did not care whether a man understood it.
When the fleet resumed its journey, the crews displayed greater caution.
Captains watched the weather constantly, while navigators argued over every change in wind.
No one mocked caution after seeing wreckage upon the rocks.
The final weeks passed more smoothly.
The fleet sailed around dangerous waters, avoided known pirate routes and purchased fresh food from small ports when opportunities appeared.
Mortarion continued hiring information wherever merchants were willing to sell it.
The situation in the Disputed Lands remained as unstable as the maps suggested.
Tyroshi forces had advanced across several western coast settlements during the previous year.
Their garrisons controlled key roads, while sellsword companies operating under Tyroshi contracts raided territory claimed by Myr.
The Myrish had responded by hiring new companies and reinforcing larger towns.
Lys provided coin and ships but preferred to avoid committing large armies inland.
Between the three cities existed countless settlements that changed allegiance whenever soldiers approached.
Some paid taxes to two cities simultaneously.
Others raised whichever banner allowed them to survive the week.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Daetosh.
The town stood near the centre of the Disputed Lands, built around a crossroads and a river narrow enough to bridge.
Almost every neighbouring settlement had been burned, abandoned or reduced to ruins during the long wars.
Daetosh survived.
Its magistrates achieved that survival through obedience to whoever arrived with the largest army.
Tyroshi banners might fly above the gates for a fortnight before Myrish soldiers forced the town to replace them.
Sellsword captains sometimes demanded their own colours be raised while collecting food and payment.
The people had learned not to care.
A banner meant little when it could change before the next market day.
The town’s position made it valuable.
Roads leading towards Tyroshi territory crossed near its walls.
The river provided fresh water and supported farmland that had escaped complete destruction.
Warehouses, workshops and a central market continued functioning because every army passing through needed them.
Mortarion chose Daetosh before the fleet reached the coast.
It would become his first foothold in the established lands.
He did not need to construct a new settlement or wait for fields to be prepared.
Daetosh already possessed walls, homes, roads and people accustomed to serving whichever power controlled the gates.
Unlike Astapor, it was small enough to occupy without trapping Mortarion within a city that required years of administration.
Daetosh would provide supplies and information.
More importantly, it would give Mortarion a recognised position within the Disputed Lands.
He could expand influence outward from something that already existed.
The fleet reached the eastern coast of the Disputed Lands after forty-six days at sea.
The shore appeared greener than the lands surrounding Astapor, though signs of war marked it immediately.
Burned farms stood near abandoned roads, while the remains of watchtowers overlooked empty fields.
The navigators selected a sheltered bay south of the nearest controlled port.
There were no walls or harbour chains, only a ruined fishing village and a broad beach suitable for landing men and supplies.
Mortarion rode Anaxion inland before allowing the fleet to approach.
He saw no large army nearby.
Several riders fled west when the dragon crossed above them, carrying news of the landing towards whichever master paid for their loyalty.
Mortarion allowed them to escape.
He wanted the Disputed Lands to know he had arrived.
Unloading the fleet required three days.
Small boats carried soldiers from the galleys to shore, while the largest vessels approached close enough to lower ramps.
Horses and livestock were brought out carefully.
Wagons were reassembled upon the beach as crates, wheels and axles were sorted.
The Unsullied formed a defensive perimeter around the landing site.
No enemy appeared.
Local villagers watched from distant hills but refused to approach until Mortarion sent men carrying food and silver rather than spears.
The first information came from an elderly farmer who claimed Daetosh lay a day and a half inland.
The road remained usable.
A Tyroshi patrol had passed through four days earlier, but no major army occupied the town.
The magistrates currently displayed the striped banner of Tyrosh because twelve mounted soldiers had demanded it.
Mortarion almost admired the town’s determination to survive through submission.
He left two thousand Unsullied at the landing site beneath one of Blue Bat’s senior officers.
They would guard the ships, supplies and hired crews while the main army marched inland.
Anaxion remained near the coast during the first day, hunting through the abandoned countryside.
Mortarion did not want the dragon flying above the army immediately.
News of ten thousand Unsullied would already create uncertainty.
Anaxion could be revealed when it produced the greatest effect.
The march towards Daetosh began before sunrise.
Eight thousand Unsullied advanced along the road in ordered formations.
Wagons followed between the units, carrying food, tents and tools required to establish a fortified position once the town was taken.
The Disputed Lands unfolded around them.
The region had once been prosperous.
Irrigation channels crossed many fields, while stone bridges and paved sections of road suggested generations of investment.
War had consumed much of it.
Farmhouses stood roofless beside overgrown fields.
Orchards had been cut down to deny food to passing armies.
Small villages contained only old people and children because younger inhabitants had fled, been recruited or died.
Those who remained watched the Unsullied with hollow caution.
They did not care whose banner the soldiers carried.
They cared whether the soldiers would steal their food.
Mortarion ordered payment for everything taken.
Some villagers refused coin at first, believing payment would later become an excuse for further demands.
The Unsullied left the gold or silver behind regardless.
Mortarion wanted stories of discipline to reach Daetosh before the army did.
Blue Bat rode beside a supply wagon upon one of the few available horses.
The animal was not suited for war, but it allowed the commander to move along the column more quickly.
“The scouts have returned from the town,” he reported during the afternoon of the second day.
“Daetosh possesses walls, although sections are damaged.
The western gate is defended by approximately forty men.”
“Tyroshi soldiers?”
“Twelve wear Tyroshi colours.
The rest appear to be town guards.”
“Any sellswords nearby?”
“None within half a day’s march.”
Mortarion looked towards the road ahead.
“Have the magistrates sent anyone to meet us?”
“Not yet.
They may be waiting to see whether the scouts’ reports are accurate.”
“They will not have to wait much longer.”
Daetosh appeared before sunset.
The town rested beside a slow river, surrounded by walls of mismatched stone and repaired brick.
Several towers leaned slightly where old siege damage had never been properly rebuilt.
Fields extended beyond the northern side, while warehouses and mills stood along the river.
The striped banner of Tyrosh flew above the western gate.
People crowded the walls.
The gates remained closed, but Mortarion saw no siege engines or organised defence capable of resisting eight thousand Unsullied.
He halted the army beyond bow range.
The formations spread across the road and nearby fields, shields resting at their sides while the soldiers waited in silence.
Mortarion rode forward with Blue Bat and twenty guards.
Three men appeared above the gatehouse.
The oldest wore a chain of office around his neck.
Sweat marked his colourful robes despite the cooling evening air.
“I am Magistrate Belarro Vezhar,” he called.
“Daetosh is presently under the protection of Tyrosh.
State your name and purpose.”
Mortarion looked up at the striped banner.
“Twelve Tyroshi riders do not provide enough protection to justify that claim.”
The magistrate glanced towards someone hidden behind the wall.
“Our town has sworn allegiance to the Archon of Tyrosh.”
“How long ago?”
Belarro hesitated.
“Twelve days.”
“And who held your allegiance before that?”
The magistrate’s discomfort answered before his words did.
“Daetosh previously recognised the protection of Myr.”
Mortarion studied the wall.
“I am Mortarion.
The army behind me will occupy Daetosh before nightfall.
Your magistrates may continue administering the town if they open the gates and order the guards to stand down.”
Belarro gripped the stone edge of the battlement.
“Tyrosh will respond to this insult.”
“Then Tyrosh may send more than twelve men when it does.”
One of the Tyroshi soldiers appeared beside the magistrate.
“You have no authority here, silver-haired boy.
Turn your slave army around before you discover whose lands you have entered.”
Mortarion raised his eyes towards the soldier.
“Leave through the western gate and carry news of my arrival to your commanders.
If you remain after the gates open, you will be treated as an enemy.”
The soldier laughed.
The sound ended when a shadow passed across the town.
Anaxion descended from the clouds.
The dragon circled above Daetosh, his wings extending farther than several streets below.
People screamed and fled from the walls.
Horses inside the town whinnied in terror.
The striped banner snapped beneath the force of Anaxion’s passing.
Mortarion kept his attention upon the gatehouse.
Belarro stared upwards with his mouth open.
“Open the gates,” Mortarion repeated.
“Your town has survived because its magistrates understand when resistance is pointless.
Do not abandon that talent now.”
The Tyroshi soldier disappeared from the battlement.
Minutes later, the striped banner began descending.
The western gates opened.
Town guards emerged first and placed their spears upon the road.
Behind them came the magistrates, accompanied by the twelve Tyroshi riders.
Their commander looked furious, though he possessed enough sense not to challenge the Unsullied formations.
Mortarion allowed the riders to leave.
They travelled south beneath the eyes of thousands of soldiers before turning towards the north-western roads leading deeper into Tyroshi-held territory.
Belarro Vezhar lowered himself onto one knee.
“Daetosh recognises your protection, Master Mortarion.
The magistrates ask only that the town and its people be spared.”
“They will be spared as long as they obey my laws, provide accurate records and make no attempt to assist my enemies.”
“You will have our complete loyalty.”
Mortarion looked towards the lowered Tyroshi banner.
“I have no use for promises that change every fortnight.
You will prove loyalty through action.”
The Unsullied entered Daetosh before nightfall.
They occupied the gates, towers, warehouses and central square without harming the population.
Blue Bat placed guards outside every storehouse to prevent looting, while officers recorded the town’s food, tools and available animals.
Mortarion ordered the magistrates to remain in office.
They knew the people, taxes, disputes and nearby villages.
Replacing them immediately would create more work without improving control.
However, Unsullied officers were assigned to observe every decision.
The Tyroshi banner was removed from the gatehouse.
In its place rose a black standard bearing the silver image of the winged sphinx copied from Mortarion’s ancient seal.
It was not yet the banner of a recognised house.
It did not need to be.
The people of Daetosh gathered below and watched another piece of cloth climb above their walls.
Many had seen Tyroshi stripes, Myrish colours and the emblems of sellsword companies replace one another countless times.
They expected Mortarion’s banner to disappear just as quickly.
Mortarion stood upon the gatehouse while Anaxion rested beyond the river and eight thousand Unsullied filled the roads outside.
Daetosh had survived by kneeling before every passing army.
This time, the power occupying it did not intend to pass.
Mortarion looked beyond the walls towards the roads leading into the core of the Disputed Lands.
Daetosh was not a kingdom.
It was not even a particularly strong town.
It was something more useful.
It was a beginning rooted in land that already possessed roads, farms, walls and people.
From here, Mortarion would spread his influence through settlements tired of changing masters.
Some would accept his protection willingly.
Others would resist until Anaxion’s shadow crossed their walls.
The Tyroshi would respond soon.
Mortarion welcomed it.
He had crossed half of Essos to make his name upon these lands.
Now he possessed a town from which to begin.