After returning to Lys, Gavin immediately dispatched several ravens to the Stepstones.
He issued an urgent order for Coben to spare no effort in procuring wildfire during this period, ensuring that all the wildfire accumulated previously was transported to Lys as quickly as possible.
Once Volantis successfully formed an alliance with Myr and Tyrosh, the strength they would demonstrate in the disputed land would provide them with an overwhelming advantage over Gavin.
At that point, Gavin would have no choice but to abandon the disputed land and retreat to the sea.
In such a scenario, wildfire would become an invaluable asset, tipping the balance in naval warfare.
Gavin then called for Hassan to report on the reorganization of the prisoners and the repairs to the warships. After all, the naval prisoners were all experienced sailors. If they could be utilized effectively, they would greatly bolster his forces.
Hassan spoke seriously, "After the reorganization, the naval prisoners are now familiar with the new warships and have adapted to your fleet's instructions. However, the issue of loyalty remains uncertain."
Gavin nodded, knowing the risks. "Among those prisoners, many bear a grudge against me. Some even lost family in our previous engagements." He paused, considering the situation. "What about their placement?"
Hassan continued, "I've dispersed them across different warships. Only a few of the more reliable prisoners were placed together, just enough to replace the losses from the last battle."
Gavin frowned. "It's a precarious situation, but we'll manage. I want you to publish a conscription notice in Lisboa—priority to experienced sailors. Also, have Jorah transport all the food, supplies, and slaves from the disputed land back to Lisboa."
Hassan raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Sir, are you preparing to retreat to the sea?"
Gavin sighed deeply, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "It's a worst-case scenario. It would be impossible to defend the disputed land with only four or five thousand prisoners." He turned his gaze outward, his resolve hardening. "Our strength lies in the fleet and the dragon. As long as we control the seas, we can recover the losses of land. Now go—carry out the orders swiftly."
Hassan bowed. "Yes, my lord. I will see to it immediately."
As Hassan left, a young apprentice from Coben entered the room quietly. He bowed respectfully to Gavin before delivering a letter.
"My lord," he began, "Governor Boris sent word that Margaery Tyrell of the Tyrell family has arrived at Bloodstone Island and wishes to meet with you. Additionally, in two days, Quentyn Martell, son of Prince Doran Martell of Dorne, will also arrive and hopes for a meeting." He handed the letter to Gavin.
Gavin took the letter and began to read it carefully. After he finished, he placed it down, his brow furrowing in confusion. Margaery's sudden arrival in the Stepstones was unexpected. For the Tyrells, distancing themselves from the Iron Throne was essential—why would they risk such an overt visit now?
As for Quentyn Martell, Gavin had no inkling of his intentions. He pondered briefly, then wrote a quick reply. In it, he explained that he could not return to Bloodstone Island immediately due to the war and asked the visitors to wait a while. He also assured Boris that he would host them in his stead.
Once the letter was prepared, Gavin handed it to the maester. "Send a raven to Bloodstone Island with this reply immediately."
The maester accepted the letter, saluted, and departed.
Meanwhile, on the disputed land, Jorah Mormont acted swiftly. He led his men through towns and villages, clearing them with ruthless efficiency.
As the days passed, the disputed land descended further into chaos. Faced with the prospect of losing everything, many slave owners panicked. Some resisted Gavin's orders, but they were swiftly put down, their bodies left hanging as a grim reminder.
Those who fought back violently were met with brutal retribution. Blood stained the earth as the soldiers ensured compliance.
Grain from the villages was quickly gathered for transport. Countless carts moved in a steady stream, slaves hauling heavy sacks of grain, their sweat soaking their faces. The sound of shifting bags echoed through the air as they hurried to load the precious cargo.
Gold, silver, and jewels were carefully packed into wooden crates, while other supplies were stacked for transport to the port. Soldiers kept a sharp watch, herding the slaves toward the sea.
Back at Rees, Gavin's fleet was overburdened with supplies. Ships continued to shuttle back and forth, filling the docks, their holds creaking under the weight of the materials. Slaves were swiftly unloaded, marched to the island, and lined up in rows. The cries of children and the weary sighs of the men and women filled the air. Stronger slaves were selected for labor, moving quickly under the watchful eyes of the soldiers.
Atop the walls of the port, Daenerys gazed out at the chaos unfolding below. Her eyes scanned the line of slaves, their faces drawn and tired. It was in this moment that her gaze fell upon a small girl at the back of the group—a thin, sickly child whose steps were slow and labored. Her face was pale, her eyes dull with despair. A weak cry escaped her lips, and it seemed to carry the weight of all the suffering around her.
Daenerys' heart tightened. Without thinking, she rushed down from the wall and approached the slave convoy. The soldiers guarding the line cursed at the slaves, urging them forward. Brienne, ever vigilant, unsheathed her sword to block Daenerys' path.
"Step aside!" the soldier barked, his hand on his own sword hilt.
Brienne raised her own sword in response. The tension was palpable, but before it escalated, the official accompanying Daenerys quickly stepped forward, explaining the queen's identity. Upon hearing this, the soldier hesitated and then respectfully stepped back, signaling for the procession to halt.
Daenerys approached the little girl, kneeling down to untie her bonds. She gently stroked the child's hair, her heart aching at the sight of such suffering. "Take her to the healer," Daenerys ordered. "She'll be cared for."
The soldiers moved swiftly, and the child was gently carried away.
As the disputed lands descended into turmoil, Jorah Mormont ensured that Gavin's orders were executed without delay. Everything of value was transported to the Isle of Lys, but the cost in blood and fear was mounting with each passing day.