Gavin nodded slightly, his expression unchanging, and calmly asked, "Just tell me, what did Malachor ask you to do?"
The messenger cleared his throat, his eyes sharpening, and continued, "I've heard of your actions here, and Volantis, Myr, and Tyrosh are deeply concerned. The land you now control—especially the disputed lands and Lys Island—should not be in your hands. I am here under orders to demand that you withdraw immediately and return all the wealth you've taken from this land. Otherwise, what awaits you will be a ruthless war, and you and your dragon may die here."
As soon as the messenger finished speaking, the atmosphere in the hall thickened. It felt as if an invisible battle had already begun. The air seemed to condense, and the silence weighed heavily.
Gavin's eyes hardened, cold as ice in the dead of winter. He slowly spoke, "So, Volantis intends to get involved in the matters between me and the Kingdom of the Three Daughters? I advise Volantis to think carefully and not become the next Rees." His voice was steady and unwavering, but beneath it lay an invisible pressure.
The messenger's face darkened immediately, his expression now stormy. He snorted coldly and retorted, "I remind you, Dragon King Gavin, to be careful with your words. The power of Volantis is not something you can imagine. The dragons that fell in Volantis were far larger than yours. Right now, the combined forces of the three cities number over 50,000 men, and we command more than 200 warships. Your small force would be torn apart with ease—like a baby facing a giant." His words dripped with both threat and arrogance.
Suddenly, Gavin stood, his hands pressed firmly against the table. He leaned forward, glaring at the messenger and growling, "Since you call me the Dragon King but still threaten me, let me ask you—what were the consequences of threatening a Dragon King in the old Valyria? I believe those of you from Volantis should have some insight into that." His anger flared, volcanic and fierce, sending a chill through the room.
The messenger flinched, his face paling, but he maintained a façade of calmness. "Valyria was destroyed in the Doom," he stammered, "You're seeking your own death! Once the coalition army approaches, you won't be able to defend yourselves." Despite his words, his voice trembled with underlying fear.
Gavin stood tall, his spine straight, his eyes as hard as iron. He replied loudly, "Valyria may have fallen, but the Dragon Kings live on. Since you can't answer my question, I'll show you with action." His words were firm, a declaration of resolve.
A deafening roar shattered the tension in the hall. The sound echoed through the walls as Chiying, the dragon, forced its way through the door and slowly crawled into the room. Its enormous body filled the space, and its great head lowered towards the now-paralyzed messenger. The dragon let out a powerful, earth-shaking roar, shaking the very air with the intensity of the sound.
The messenger screamed in panic, his voice high and desperate. "No! You can't do this! I'm the messenger of Volantis! You can't kill the messenger!" His words became frantic, sharp with fear, his body trembling violently.
Gavin watched the messenger calmly, unmoved, then turned his gaze to Chiying. "Dracarys."
As Chiying heard the command, the messenger's horror reached its peak. He desperately cried out, "You will regret this decision!" But before he could finish, a torrent of flame erupted from the dragon's mouth. The flames enveloped him instantly, turning his body into a flaming inferno. Within moments, the once-human form was nothing more than a charred, smoking husk.
The heat was intense, and the pungent smell of burning flesh filled the air, mingling with the stillness of the room. The atmosphere hung heavy, like the calm before an explosive storm.
The remaining attendant, who had accompanied the messenger, dropped to his knees, trembling uncontrollably. He begged, "Lord Dragon King, it's none of my business! I meant no disrespect to you! I'm just an attendant—please spare my life!" His voice cracked with fear, his forehead pressed to the ground as he shook in terror.
Gavin looked down at the terrified attendant, his face expressionless. "Tell him to clean up the mess on the ground and take it back to Malachor. This is my reply to him."
With that, Gavin turned and walked away, leaving the hall in complete silence.
Back in his study, Gavin poured himself a glass of wine, drinking it in one swift gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing in his mind.
The worst-case scenario had unfolded. Volantis, Myr, and Tyrosh had formed an alliance. This coalition now posed a genuine threat, especially with their overwhelming naval advantage. Gavin leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he stewed over the next steps. The flickering candlelight illuminated his face, casting shadows that accentuated his frown and steely resolve.
After a long moment of reflection, Gavin opened his eyes. A sense of solemnity clouded his gaze. The enemy's fleet was far too large. Even though most of Gavin's own fleet consisted of high-performance warships, facing such an overwhelming force seemed nearly impossible. However, Volantis' fleet had not yet set sail, and it would take at least half a month for them to reach Rees. Until then, he had time to execute a strategy that could divide and conquer.
He planned to concentrate his fleet's superior strength, attacking and destroying the fleets of Myr and Tyrosh before Volantis could arrive. Once the naval battle was won, the three cities would be left without their fleets, and the sea would be under Gavin's control.
Gavin knew that, with his high mobility at sea, he could take the initiative, even against such a large alliance. The coastal cities of Volantis and Myr, and the isolated island of Tyrosh, would be vulnerable. With a swift and decisive victory at sea, the seemingly powerful coalition would crumble.
But he had limited time—only half a month—before Volantis' fleet was fully deployed. The loss of the fleet's protection would leave Lys Island vulnerable, relying on its shore defenses. And those defenses rested on the newly-formed First Legion. As for the surrendered soldiers and mercenaries under Jorah, Gavin would never dare trust them in such an important conflict.
The wildfire tactics he had originally planned were no longer viable, as the wildfire had not arrived in time. He would have to rely on the full strength of his fleet to annihilate the enemy's forces without incurring significant losses. Otherwise, winning the final battle against Volantis would become nearly impossible.