For seven days, the ruins of Narra remained quiet.
The Unsullied worked without pause, strengthening walls that had not defended anyone in years.
Stones were dragged from collapsed houses and stacked into breastworks along the western approach.
Shallow trenches crossed the abandoned fields, positioned where cavalry would find the ground most inviting.
Sharpened stakes were buried behind the low boundaries dividing the old farms, while the short-bow companies prepared positions upon the northern ridge.
Mortarion allowed no structure to be raised merely because it appeared impressive.
Every wall needed a purpose.
Every trench had to direct the enemy towards ground where the Unsullied could receive them in formation.
He ordered several obvious gaps left between the ruins, allowing the Tyroshi to believe they had discovered weak approaches.
Those openings led towards fields broken by hidden ditches and loose earth.
The western road remained clear.
Mortarion wanted Serro Hestar to see Narra from a distance and understand that five thousand soldiers waited for him.
Concealing the entire army would have been impossible, and pretending otherwise would only surrender the advantage of intimidation.
The silver sphinx of House Baraeris flew from the broken magistrate’s hall.
Its black field could be seen far beyond the ruins whenever the wind strengthened while the silver sphinx’s body faced west towards the road from Varos.
Each morning, Mortarion stood beneath that banner and studied the horizon.
Scouts brought reports twice each day.
The Tyroshi host had left Varos as expected, though its progress was slower than Mortarion first anticipated.
Hestar travelled with a large supply train, siege equipment and enough camp followers to stretch the column across miles of road.
He was not hurrying.
That alone suggested competence.
An impatient commander might have raced towards Narra, hoping to catch the Unsullied before their defences were complete.
Hestar instead preserved his army, kept his wagons close and sent cavalry ahead to examine every crossing.
He understood that Mortarion wanted him to advance.
He simply believed he could do so safely.
On the fifth day, Unsullied scouts captured two Tyroshi outriders near the southern river.
The men attempted to flee after being challenged, but one horse stumbled among the stones while the other rider was dragged from his saddle.
They were brought into Narra beneath guard.
Neither spoke High Valyrian.
A translator from Daetosh named Lomar accompanied Mortarion during the questioning.
He repeated the riders’ Tyroshi dialect into the common form of Valyrian understood by the local officials, while Mortarion answered them directly.
Blue Bat stood nearby.
Whenever the commander needed to understand the exchange, Mortarion or Lomar translated the relevant information into High Valyrian.
The process was slower than speaking a single shared language, but Mortarion refused to allow assumptions to replace accuracy.
The first prisoner gave his name as Vezzo.
He wore a scale shirt painted in fading blue and carried the badge of a Tyroshi cavalry company upon his shoulder.
Mortarion allowed him water before beginning.
“How many soldiers march behind you?”
Vezzo looked towards the Unsullied guards.
“Enough to bury every slave soldier in these ruins.”
Lomar translated the insult into High Valyrian for Blue Bat.
The Unsullied commander showed no reaction.
Mortarion remained seated upon a broken stone block.
“That answer tells me you are frightened enough to boast.
It does not tell me whether Hestar brought six thousand men or fewer.”
The rider lifted his chin.
“You will see his numbers soon.”
“I will, although the accuracy of your answer will determine whether you spend the coming battle tied inside Narra or released before it begins.”
Vezzo’s expression changed slightly.
“You would release us?”
“If you answer honestly.
You are scouts, not officers carrying secrets that could decide the campaign.”
The second prisoner looked towards his companion.
Mortarion noticed.
He turned to him.
“How many?”
The younger rider answered first.
“Seven thousand fighting men.”
Vezzo cursed him.
The Unsullied guards did not move, but their attention sharpened.
Mortarion looked towards Lomar, who repeated the number carefully before translating it into High Valyrian for Blue Bat.
One thousand more than expected.
“What makes up the additional force?” Mortarion asked.
The younger scout swallowed.
“Another sellsword company reached Varos before the army departed.
The Archon sent gold to secure them.”
“What company?”
“The Scarlet Wolves.”
Lomar’s expression tightened before he translated.
Mortarion noticed.
“You recognise the name?”
“They have served Tyrosh and Myr at different times.
They are not among the largest companies, but they possess a reputation for heavy infantry and taking few prisoners.”
Mortarion returned his attention to the prisoners.
“How many cavalry?”
“Nearly eight hundred,” the younger rider said.
“Perhaps more if the mounted scouts are counted.”
“Archers?”
“More than a thousand.”
“Siege engines?”
“Four large scorpions and several smaller bolt throwers carried upon wagons.”
That confirmed Mortarion’s suspicion.
Hestar had prepared specifically for Anaxion.
Four scorpions would not guarantee the dragon’s death, but their presence forced caution.
A single well-placed bolt through the wing or eye could turn victory into disaster.
“What orders were you given when you rode towards Narra?” Mortarion asked.
Vezzo answered this time.
“We were to count your fires, examine the river crossings and determine where the dragon rested.”
“Did Hestar tell you to engage our scouts?”
“No.”
“Then you failed your orders by allowing yourselves to be captured.”
The rider’s jaw tightened.
Mortarion stood.
“You will be released at sunset.
You may tell Serro Hestar that I know his strength and that House Baraeris remains at Narra.”
Vezzo stared at him.
“You want us to return?”
“I want your commander to understand that I am not hiding from him.”
The prisoners were fed before being escorted beyond the western patrol line.
Their horses were returned, though their weapons remained in Narra.
Blue Bat watched them ride away.
He spoke in High Valyrian once the local translator had moved beyond hearing.
“They will describe the defences.”
“They observed only what our scouts allowed them to see.”
“They may also believe kindness means uncertainty.”
“Then they will misjudge us in a way that encourages them to attack.”
Blue Bat looked towards the western road.
“Seven thousand changes the balance.”
“It changes the number of bodies Hestar must feed.
It does not change our position.”
Mortarion understood that the additional soldiers mattered.
He simply refused to treat numbers as fate.
The Tyroshi now outnumbered the force at Narra by two thousand.
They possessed cavalry, dedicated archers and engines designed to threaten Anaxion.
Their veterans had survived the Stepstones, while their sellswords had likely fought in more battles than many noble armies saw in a generation.
The Unsullied remained better disciplined.
They held prepared ground.
Most importantly, Hestar had marched into a battle Mortarion expected.
On the seventh morning, the western scouts lit their signal fires.
One column of smoke rose from the first ridge.
The Tyroshi host had arrived.
Mortarion climbed to the roofless upper floor of the magistrate’s hall while the Unsullied formed throughout Narra.
Blue Bat joined him, accompanied by Lomar and two senior officers.
The first enemy riders appeared upon the distant hills.
They did not approach within bow range.
Small groups moved across the fields, examining the northern ridge and the river before returning west.
Then the banners emerged.
Tyroshi stripes rose above the road, followed by the colours of several sellsword companies.
Red wolves, black towers, green knives and a dozen lesser emblems moved through the dust.
Infantry filled the land behind them.
Mortarion watched the columns descend from the hills.
The reports had been accurate.
There were far more than six thousand.
Hestar’s army advanced in organised sections rather than one loose mass.
Tyroshi veterans occupied the centre, their bronze and steel armour reflecting sunlight through the dust.
Sellsword companies marched upon either side, each maintaining its own banners and officers.
Cavalry spread across the northern fields.
Archers travelled near the front, protected by spearmen.
The scorpions came behind them.
Each engine rested upon a heavy wagon drawn by teams of horses.
Large curved arms rose above reinforced frames, while crews walked beside bundles of bolts long enough to pierce men and horses together.
Mortarion studied their movement.
Hestar had placed infantry around each machine rather than leaving the crews exposed.
The wagons remained separated, ensuring Anaxion could not destroy every scorpion in a single pass.
The Tyroshi commander had learned from the Stepstones.
Mortarion felt Anaxion’s anger through their bond.
The dragon rested beyond the eastern side of Narra, hidden partly by the ruined hill and old walls.
He sensed the growing number of men, horses and unfamiliar banners.
Mortarion sent patience through the bond.
Anaxion answered with heat, hunger and an image of wings descending upon the enemy.
“Not yet,” Mortarion said quietly.
Blue Bat looked towards him.
“The dragon wishes to attack?”
“He understands that an enemy has arrived.
He does not yet understand why waiting matters.”
The Tyroshi did not advance directly against Narra.
Hestar halted his army beyond the western fields and began forming defensive lines.
The veterans established the centre upon a low rise overlooking the road.
Spearmen planted their shields and began digging with tools carried in the supply wagons.
Archers formed behind them, while the scorpions were unhitched and positioned with broad views of the sky.
Sellswords occupied both wings.
The Scarlet Wolves took the southern side near the river, their red-painted shields forming several dense blocks.
A second company moved towards the northern ground but stopped before reaching the rough ridge.
Hestar kept his cavalry behind the right wing rather than sending it forward.
He had no intention of wasting horsemen against hidden stakes or prepared spear formations.
Mortarion watched the enemy camp take shape throughout the morning.
“They are forming as though they expect us to attack,” Blue Bat said in High Valyrian.
“Hestar wants his engines prepared before Anaxion takes flight.
He also wants his soldiers to see that he does not fear waiting beneath a dragon’s shadow.”
“Should we disrupt them before the trenches are complete?”
“No.
We prepared this ground because it favours us.
Charging from Narra would surrender that advantage.”
Blue Bat looked towards the Tyroshi right.
“They may remain there and force us to exhaust our supplies.”
“They marched more than a week with seven thousand men, cavalry and siege engines.
Their supply needs are greater than ours, and Daetosh lies only three days behind us.
Time does not favour Hestar unless he can cut the eastern road.”
The Unsullied commander accepted the reasoning.
By midday, both armies faced one another across the ruined fields.
Five thousand dark shields held Narra.
Seven thousand Tyroshi veterans and sellswords occupied the western rise.
Neither moved to begin the battle.
Shortly after noon, three riders left Hestar’s lines beneath a white banner.
Mortarion had expected the invitation.
He descended from the magistrate’s hall and ordered a horse prepared.
The available mounts were ordinary animals used for messengers and supply officers, none trained to remain calm near Anaxion.
Mortarion chose the steadiest.
Blue Bat prepared to accompany him.
“You will come,” Mortarion said in High Valyrian, “but Lomar must ride beside us.
Hestar may speak a Valyrian dialect I understand, although you will require the terms translated accurately.”
Blue Bat inclined his head.
Twenty Unsullied followed at a distance, while Lomar rode between Mortarion and the commander.
They met the Tyroshi party halfway between the two armies.
Serro Hestar wore practical armour rather than the bright clothing favoured by many Tyroshi nobles.
A darkened breastplate covered his chest, marked by several old cuts that had been repaired rather than polished away.
His helm hung from his saddle, revealing greying hair and a face weathered by sun and salt.
A red scar crossed his jaw.
The two men accompanying him wore striped Tyroshi cloaks.
One carried the white banner, while the other held a wooden case containing documents.
Hestar examined Mortarion carefully.
His eyes moved across the black Valyrian steel armour, Dreaded Deliverance and the silver sphinx upon Mortarion’s cloak.
He then looked beyond them towards Narra.
“I expected an older man.”
Hestar spoke in the Tyroshi form of bastard Valyrian.
Mortarion understood him without Lomar’s assistance.
“I expected six thousand soldiers.”
A faint smile touched Hestar’s mouth.
“Then we have both been surprised.”
Lomar quietly translated the exchange into High Valyrian for Blue Bat.
Hestar looked towards the Unsullied commander.
“Does he understand nothing we say?”
“He speaks High Valyrian,” Mortarion replied.
“My army does not use the lesser dialects spoken by the Free Cities.”
The Tyroshi general raised an eyebrow.
“Ten thousand Unsullied who speak only the language of Old Valyria.
That mystery has troubled many men since you left Astapor.”
“They may continue being troubled.”
Hestar’s smile disappeared.
“I am Serro Hestar, general of this host and servant of the Archon of Tyrosh.
I have fought in these lands before you were old enough to hold a sword.”
Mortarion remained mounted.
“My age did not prevent the Archon from sending seven thousand men against me.”
“It was your dragon that persuaded him, not your reputation.”
“Then perhaps this battle will provide what I lack.”
Hestar studied him for several moments.
“You are eager to build a legend.”
“I am eager to establish borders that Tyrosh will respect.”
The general gestured towards the case carried by his officer.
“The Archon has sent terms.
I advise you to hear them as an offer rather than an insult.”
“Read them.”
The Tyroshi officer opened the case and removed a sealed parchment.
Hestar did not bother unfolding it.
He had memorised the demands.
“Mortarion Baraeris will lower his banners above Daetosh and Freerider Gate.
Both towns will return to Tyroshi protection, and every official appointed under your authority will surrender his records to the Archon’s representatives.”
Lomar translated into High Valyrian for Blue Bat.
Hestar continued.
“Your fleet will leave Corsair’s Bay within ten days.
You may take your Unsullied, hired sailors and personal property with you, but every weapon, animal or store seized from Tyroshi subjects will remain behind.” Read this novel at novelping dot com for the best experience.
“I seized nothing from Tyroshi subjects without payment.”
“The Archon considers the taxes of Daetosh and Freerider Gate to be Tyroshi property.”
“He may consider the moon his property if it comforts him.”
Hestar ignored the interruption.
“You will also pay twenty thousand gold dragons as compensation for the occupation of Tyroshi territory and the dismissal of the Archon’s soldiers.”
Mortarion looked towards him.
“Twelve riders were allowed to leave unharmed.
Their dismissal was considerably cheaper than they deserved.”
“The final demand concerns your future actions.
You will swear before witnesses that House Baraeris has no claim within the Disputed Lands and will not enter the service of Myr or Lys against Tyrosh for a period of five years.”
Lomar finished translating.
Blue Bat’s expression remained controlled, but Mortarion recognised the contempt in his stillness.
Hestar adjusted the reins in one hand.
“If you accept, the Archon will allow you to depart peacefully.
He may even consider purchasing the services of your army for campaigns elsewhere.”
“Tyrosh wishes to hire the force it has marched here to remove.”
“Tyrosh respects strength.
Your presence is dangerous because your intentions are unknown, not because the Archon doubts your usefulness.”
Mortarion considered the statement.
It was the most honest part of the offer.
The Archon feared an independent dragonrider establishing himself upon the mainland.
If Mortarion accepted Tyroshi coin, he would become easier to predict and control.
His army could be pointed towards Myr, Lys or another enemy while Tyrosh claimed influence over his victories.
Mortarion had not crossed half of Essos to become another sellsword captain.
“You said I should hear the terms as an offer rather than an insult,” he replied.
“They are both.”
Hestar’s face remained calm.
“The alternative is battle.”
“The alternative is that Tyrosh recognises Daetosh, Freerider Gate and Corsair’s Bay as lands protected by House Baraeris.
Your Archon abandons his claims upon their taxes, recalls his agents and permits trade to continue without interference.”
Hestar gave a quiet laugh.
“You have occupied two minor towns and a ruined harbour for less than a month.
You speak as though you possess an ancient kingdom.”
“All ancient kingdoms began as something smaller.”
“You believe one dragon makes your borders permanent.”
“No.
The soldiers behind me make them defensible.
The dragon makes challenging them expensive.”
The general looked towards the ruined town.
“You have five thousand infantry.
I have seven thousand men, nearly eight hundred horses and more archers than you can place upon those broken walls.
Your soldiers are disciplined, but discipline does not prevent them from being surrounded.”
“Your cavalry cannot cross the northern ridge in formation, and the river protects my southern flank.
If you try to surround Narra, your army will stretch until each part can be destroyed separately.”
Hestar’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Mortarion had confirmed he understood the ground.
“You assume I must attack,” the general said.
“I can wait while my cavalry cuts the road to Daetosh.”
“You can try.
Every rider sent behind Narra moves beyond the protection of your scorpions.”
Hestar glanced upwards.
Anaxion remained hidden behind the ruins, but his presence could be felt in the behaviour of the Tyroshi horses.
Several shifted uneasily despite the distance.
“I have faced a dragon before,” Hestar said.
“You survived a dragon before.
That is not the same as defeating one.”
The general’s scarred jaw tightened.
“I watched Caraxes burn men within their armour.
I watched ships catch fire before their crews understood the beast had turned.
Do not mistake experience for ignorance, boy.”
“I do not.
That is why I know you have dispersed your engines, protected their crews and kept your cavalry behind the infantry.
You learned enough to be cautious.” Mortarion leaned slightly forward in the saddle.
“You did not learn enough to remain at Varos.”
For the first time, anger entered Hestar’s expression.
The emotion disappeared quickly.
“You refuse the Archon’s terms?”
“I refuse every demand.
House Baraeris will remain in the lands it protects, and no gold will be paid to Tyrosh.”
“Then the deaths that follow belong to you.”
“They belong to the man who marched seven thousand soldiers here to enforce an empty claim.”
Hestar turned his horse slightly.
“The white banner remains in force until we return to our lines.
After that, there will be no further negotiation.”
Mortarion nodded.
“That is acceptable.
When your army breaks, I will discuss surrender with whoever remains capable of speaking for it.”
The Tyroshi general stared at him.
“You have confidence for a commander fighting his first battle in these lands.”
Mortarion’s violet eyes held his.
“It is not my first battle.”
Hestar did not understand the full meaning.
He did not need to.
The Tyroshi riders withdrew west beneath the white banner.
Mortarion, Blue Bat and Lomar returned towards Narra.
Once they were beyond hearing, Blue Bat spoke in High Valyrian.
“Hestar is not reckless.”
“No.
That makes defeating him more valuable.”
“He may attack before nightfall.”
“He will.
He cannot return to the Archon after forming his army in our sight and refusing battle.”
Blue Bat looked towards the enemy lines.
“What are your orders?”
“The short-bow companies will remain concealed until the Tyroshi archers advance.
The centre holds behind the first stone boundaries and withdraws in order if Hestar commits his veterans.
I want him drawn towards the ruins before Anaxion attacks.”
“The scorpions will target the dragon.”
“They will target whatever they can see.
Our scouts have marked each engine, and Anaxion will not approach from the direction Hestar expects.”
Lomar listened without understanding.
Mortarion did not translate the plan.
The fewer people who knew it, the less chance existed for a warning to reach the enemy.
The Unsullied returned to their positions.
Commands spread in High Valyrian from Blue Bat to the senior officers, then down through the formations.
Shields were lifted.
Spears lowered into readiness.
Archers checked strings beneath the cover of the northern ruins.
Across the fields, Tyroshi horns sounded.
Hestar’s defensive lines began to change.
Archers moved forward in broad groups.
Sellswords tightened their formations upon the wings, while the Tyroshi veterans advanced from the central rise beneath striped banners.
Scorpion crews turned their engines towards the sky.
Anaxion raised his head behind Narra.
A deep growl passed through the ruins, dislodging dust from broken walls.
Mortarion felt the dragon’s hunger and anger sharpen into violent anticipation.
He placed his helmet over his head.
The crimson lines within Aurion’s armour glowed faintly as Dreaded Deliverance left its scabbard.
Five thousand Unsullied stood beneath the black banner of House Baraeris.
Seven thousand Tyroshi veterans and sellswords advanced across the western fields.
The white flag was lowered.
The battle for Narra was about to begin.