The miners huddled inside the cave mouth, shrinking back from the shadow of the dragon circling above.
The forty Gold Cloaks raised the leather speaking horns Baelon had given them and shouted in unison.
“The overseers and the mine master have been working you to death! They gave a thousand men’s worth of labor to a few hundred of you while pocketing the wages for the missing men!”
“Prince Baelon sent us to check the numbers and the books so you wouldn’t have to carry that burden anymore. You attacked and killed some of our brothers because you didn’t know the truth. But the prince has decided to show mercy. Hand over the guilty men and you will be pardoned. You will also receive the pay you are owed.”
Inside the cave the miners looked at one another, then slowly turned their eyes toward the deeper shadows where the managers stood.
The managers felt the shifting mood and tried to sound brave.
“What are you staring at? This is a royal trick! They want to wipe you out to cover up some secret. Our only chance is to stand together and find a way off this island!”
“Haven’t you noticed? From beginning to end, only people from King’s Landing have shown up. Not a single man from the island guard has come. That’s proof! They’re afraid more people will find out what they’ve done!”
One of the managers jabbed the man beside him and hissed, “This is your fault. You said the best chance to slip away would be after dark. We only had a few men to deal with then!”
“Now look what you’ve done. The dragon is here. We’re all going to die in this hole.”
Another manager glared toward the cave entrance.
“Who could have guessed that cripple would come riding the dragon himself? And so quickly?”
“Why isn’t the island guard handling this? That’s their job!”
While the managers argued, a younger miner spoke up quietly.
“There’s a dragon at the entrance and our food won’t last much longer. We don’t have a choice.”
He raised his voice a little.
“If we trust the prince, we might still have a way out. If we trust these men, we’re dead for certain.”
The managers watched in panic as more miners began to stand.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Don’t forget—you’re the ones who killed the Gold Cloaks! Do you really believe handing us over will save you from the dragon above?”
“Hold out until dark. You know the terrain around Dragon’s Tail better than anyone. That’s your only real chance!”
Before the others could hesitate, the young miner stepped forward, grabbed one of the managers by the arm, and started dragging him toward the light.
The rest of the miners surged after him.
They ignored the managers’ struggles and carried them bodily out of the cave.
The managers were thrown roughly onto the open ground.
The miners immediately backed away.
Ignir’s dragonfire dropped from the sky and engulfed them.
In seconds they were nothing but charred corpses.
Only then did the Dragonstone guard finally arrive, the man in front still muttering excuses about being late.
Baelon remained in the air the entire time, following the old saying that a rich man’s son does not sit beneath a crumbling wall.
He looked down coldly at the late arrivals.
“Your reckoning will come later. Go back and clean up your own mess. When we investigate you, this is what happens to anyone with problems.”
“From today on, none of you are to come near Black Stone Castle. Approach it and you will be treated as traitors.”
He turned his attention to the hundreds of miners below, his voice softening slightly.
“For a while your numbers won’t be replenished. Choose your own managers from among yourselves and do your work properly. I will handle the reduced dragonglass output.”
“Once I send word to King’s Landing, new miners will arrive. But your managers will come from your own ranks from now on—no more outsiders appointed over you. Go back to your work.”
The miners shouted “Long live Prince Baelon!” like men who had been granted pardon, then hurried back into the mine.
That evening Ser Alfred Broom, commander of the Dragonstone guard, came to Black Stone Castle.
He never got past the gates.
The guards turned him away without letting him see the prince.
He knew then that he was only one piece of evidence away from death.
Back at the barracks he watched Ignir circling above the castle and called his most trusted officers to him.
“I think it’s time we left this island. I can feel our deaths getting closer.”
“That mad boy is willing to kill without trial and without even reporting to King’s Landing.”
“We can fix the account problems, but the missing personnel numbers? We have no way to solve that in time.”
The captain who had faced the dragon spoke up.
“Commander, everything on Dragonstone has changed in the last half month. The miners in the caves don’t hear outside news, but our soldiers do. The prince hasn’t just been governing—he’s been putting on a show for the common folk.”
“If we’re going to run, it has to be now, and it will probably only be the men in this room.”
“The soldiers admire what the prince is doing. They’re angry they haven’t had the chance to report us themselves. You need to decide quickly.”
Broom looked at his loyal men, then at the castle where the black dragon still wheeled overhead.
“Gather your families as fast as you can. We’re leaving Westeros. We’re going to the Stepstones.”
“The Triarchy is still fighting the Three Daughters. We’ll make our fortunes there.”
Their plans never had a chance.
The next afternoon a ship flying Targaryen banners sailed into Dragonstone’s harbor.
The visitor was not Rhaenyra.
It was Viserys.
Baelon was still preparing to go meet the ship when Viserys walked into the castle courtyard.
Father and son faced each other in silence.
After a long moment Viserys forced a weak smile.
“Baelon, I saw your sister rushing out of the Red Keep with a heavy chest. She said she was bringing you something. Since I was already heading to Driftmark, I thought I’d come see you myself.”
“I also brought some supplies. I figured food might be running low out here.”
Baelon looked at his father’s pale, seasick face and the way he was fighting to keep his stomach from rebelling.
His throat tightened and his eyes stung.
“Father… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things that day.”
Viserys kept smiling.
He stepped behind the wheelchair.
Auris quietly moved aside.
Viserys took hold of the handles and began pushing his son toward the rooms.
No one dared come near them.
Only when they were alone did Viserys speak softly.
“We’re family. There’s no need for apologies. I’ve made mistakes too. I’m staying here tonight. We can talk properly, just the two of us.”
“I saw Ignir flying above the castle. He looks a little bigger. It seems you’ve been doing all right on Dragonstone.”
Baelon leaned back in the chair and looked up at his father.
“It’s been all right. I just miss you and my sister.”
Viserys gently touched Baelon’s longer silver-gold hair.
“Then come with me to Driftmark. We can go back to King’s Landing together.”