I let out a long, weary sigh, pushing the empty bowl away. The grim reality of my situation was settling in like the evening fog I was a king without a kingdom, ruling over a collection of broken people and barren rocks.
"Any fertile lands here?" I asked, my voice flat. "I need to know where we can actually grow something. We can't eat salt and loyalty."
Kellan gave a bitter laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Fertile? In the Crownlands, perhaps. But here?" He gest admitted a gesture toward the window, where the jagged black cliffs met the churning grey sea. "This island is volcanic rock and stubborn weeds. The soil is thin, acidic, and poisoned by sulfur. You could plant a field of wheat on the eastern slopes, and it would probably die before it reached full height."
He leaned forward, his fingers tracing the coastline on the map. "There are small patches of green near the base of the mountains, where the runoff from the rains carries some nutrients down, but it's pitiful. Enough to feed a few goats and maybe some hardy vegetables for the castle kitchens, but not enough to support a population. We rely almost entirely on trade ships from the mainland the very ships that have stopped coming."
He looked at me with something resembling genuine concern. "Even Sweetport Sound, which has the most promising soil near the mouth of the sound, is struggling. The salt spray kills more crops than the drought does. If you want to feed people, Prince, you'll have to find a way to bring food in from somewhere else. And as I said before..."
He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "...no one is sending anything."
I pointed to the map, specifically to the stretch of land directly north of Dragonstone, where the peninsula curved outward. It was a massive expanse of territory that seemed to sit in a political vacuum land that didn't clearly belong to the Velaryons, nor was it firmly claimed by any of the smaller Crownlands houses.
"What about here?" I asked, my finger pressing hard against the parchment. "This stretch. The land above the island."
Kellan leaned in, squinting at the spot I'd indicated. His expression shifted from contempt to something approaching surprise. "That land? Aye, it's promising. Thick forests, rolling hills, and soil that doesn't taste of sulfur. It's some of the best land in the peninsula."
But his next words soured the hope. "But it's wild territory, Your Highness. Unclaimed, unmanaged, and dangerous. It's filled with outlaws, poachers, and worse. Even if you wanted to claim it, you'd need more than a decree from a boy. You would need manpower hundreds of men to clear the timber, plow the fields, and hold the ground against those who would steal what you build." Get faster updates on g.com.
He looked at me meaningfully. "And manpower costs coin. Gold for wages, steel for protection, grain to feed them while they work. You'd be starting from nothing, trying to build a kingdom out of a wilderness while your own castle crumbles around you."
He crossed his arms, leaning back. "You're talking about conquest and colonization, not just ruling. That's a dragon's ambition, Vaegon. Are you prepared to bleed for it?"
I scoffed at his dramatic phrasing. "Conquest? Pfft. Don't be so theatrical, Kellan. It's not conquest, it's survival." I stood up from the chair, feeling the adrenaline of a plan finally taking shape. "You've proven this island can't survive on its own. We're starving on a rock while green fields sit empty just north of our noses."
I leaned over the map again, my finger tracing the path from Dragonstone to that unclaimed territory. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for the tide to take us. I'm going to gather what people we have left and lead them toward that land. We'll clear the woods, we'll plow the earth, and we'll make it safe. We'll grow our own food."
I looked Kellan dead in the eye, my voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Send ravens. All of them. House Velaryon, Celtigar, Bar Emmon, Sunglass. Don't ask them for tribute or loyalty ask them for men. Tell them Dragonstone is opening a new frontier. Tell them there is land to be claimed and food to be grown."
Kellan stared at me as if I had grown wings. "You're insane," he said flatly. "They won't come. They'll see it as a trap, or worse, a beggar's plea. They have no reason to risk their lives for a boy who might not even exist."
I let out a sharp, genuine laugh that echoed off the stone walls. "Oh, they'll come, Kellan. Believe me, they'll come."
I leaned closer, the firelight reflecting in my blue eyes. "Because they're all desperate. The Velaryons are drowning in debt, the Celtigars are starving, and the others are just waiting for something to happen. This isn't just a project; it's salvation. And desperate people will always follow salvation, even if it's led by a ghost."
I sat back down, feeling the weight of the gamble. "Now, get those ravens in the air. Every day we wait is another day the weeds grow faster than our chances."
***
The week had been an exercise in agonizing patience. I spent every hour studying the maps, pacing the crumbling halls, and eating whatever meager portions Kellan could scrape together. The castle remained quiet, the air thick with the skepticism of the guards who watched me as if I were a child playing at war. Kellan had sent the ravens with a face that said he expected nothing but silence or mockery in return. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
Then came the morning when the lookout on the dragon carved battlements screamed.
I hurried to the balcony, my heart hammering against my ribs. The morning mist was lifting from the Blackwater, and as it peeled away, it revealed a sight that made Kellan's jaw drop.
Ships. Not just one or two desperate fishing boats, but vessels bearing the silver seahorse of Velaryon, the banners of Bar Emmon and Sunglass, and the battered sails of House Celitgar. They weren't an invasion fleet; they looked like a collection of refugees, ships worn and crews tired, but they were here.
Kellan stood frozen at the railing, his knuckles white as he gripped the stone. "They actually all came?" he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine disbelief.
I stepped up beside him, feeling the weight of my new clothes. I'd scoured the castle's forgotten storage and found a simple tunic and coat of charcoal grey, paired with matching pants and sturdy black boots. They weren't the silks and velvets of King's Landing there wasn't a single gold thread on me but they were clean, fitted, and dignified. I didn't look like a servant anymore. I looked like a young lord of a grim place, a prince who had embraced the ash and salt of his domain.
"Told you," I said broadly, a smirk playing on my lips as I looked down at the approaching fleet.
I could see the desperation even from here. These weren't lords coming to pay homage; these were people who had run out of options. They had seen a spark of life in a dead place, and like moths to a flame, they had flown toward it.
"They're not coming for us," Kellan muttered, though his tone had shifted from doubt to something approaching respect. "They're coming for the land."
"Exactly," I replied, straightening my coat. "And since I'm the one who invited them, they'll have to answer to me."