**Boom—**
Under the onslaught of dragonfire, the pirate ship nearly capsized. The mast snapped in half, crashing onto the deck.
The sailor manning the scorpion ballista had no time to evade and was crushed into pulp by the falling mast before being incinerated by the dragonfire.
"Keep burning! Sink the entire ship!"
Rhaegar pressed the attack, commanding Devourer to unleash more dragonfire.
With the threat of the scorpion ballista eliminated, Devourer paid no mind to the feeble arrows. It hovered in midair, engulfing the entire pirate ship in green flames.
Seated firmly in the saddle, Rhaegar carefully scanned the scene to ensure no one had escaped.
Facing the ferocious and terrifying pirates from the Isle of Women for the first time, he refused to be careless.
Only when the entire ship was reduced to ashes could he consider it a true victory.
After a long moment, Rhaenys flew in on Meraxes, calling out, "Rhaegar, are you safe?"
"I'm fine. I got a firsthand look at a scorpion ballista, though."
Glancing down at the pirate ship, now reduced to ruins, Rhaegar finally signaled Devourer to stop breathing fire.
"Hah, you really are cautious."
Rhaenys held onto the reins and looked down from above at the scene of utter devastation.
The entire ship was burned to nothing.
Not just the pirates— even their weapons had melted into molten iron.
"Being cautious is never a bad thing."
Rhaegar chuckled and guided Devourer toward the merchant ship they had just rescued.
Rhaenys clicked her tongue and followed on her dragon.
They returned to the secluded island where the battle had taken place. The pirate ship was still burning, the charred corpses crackling as they burned.
The merchant ship had been caught in the blaze, its deck completely destroyed, and the sails still smoldering.
**Thud—**
A charred hatch burst open from within, and a group of ragged, half-naked people scrambled out in a panic.
"The slavers are all dead! Run!"
"Bless the Lord of Light! The flames have cleansed our sins…"
"..."
There were men and women, young and old, most of them emaciated and desperate, rushing onto the deck.
"Are these people slaves?"
Hearing the mention of slavers, Rhaegar's expression darkened, his voice turning cold.
Westeros opposed slavery and forbade the slave trade.
This was the first time he had encountered a so-called slave ship.
"Aside from Westeros and Braavos, slavery is legal almost everywhere."
Rhaenys remained relatively indifferent, though the furrow of her brows showed some unease.
She had traveled the world with her husband's fleet and had seen far too many slaves.
Especially in Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and across Slaver's Bay, slaves were as common as livestock.
"Should we go down and take a look?"
Noting Rhaegar's evident distaste, Rhaenys suggested.
"Good idea. This ship won't hold up much longer— we should move these people onto another vessel."
Rhaegar nodded and guided Devourer to descend.
"Dragonlord… Dragonlord…"
Seeing the dragon approach, the slaves dropped to their knees, trembling in fear.
The legacy of Old Valyria's dragonlords had left a lasting impression on Essos.
Rhaegar surveyed the crowd and spoke loudly, "Where were you taken from, and where were you being transported?"
"Oh mighty Lord of Dragons, we were taken from all over the world. This ship was bound for Pentos."
A frail, elderly man knelt and replied hoarsely.
"Pentos?"
Rhaegar frowned slightly.
As one of the Free Cities, Pentos had signed an agreement with Braavos prohibiting the slave trade.
Then again, Pentos wasn't Westeros or Braavos, where slavery was explicitly outlawed.
Officially, they might ban slavery, but behind the scenes, who was really enforcing it?
As he pondered, one of the kneeling slaves began crawling stealthily toward the deck.
"He's a pirate!"
Someone shouted, exposing the escapee.
Before the pirate could react, the surrounding slaves sprang into action, tackling him to the ground and beating him mercilessly.
Rhaegar watched coldly, making no move to intervene.
He had already sensed that something was off about this man.
---
All the other slaves were skin and bones, but he was well-fed and robust.
*Squelch—*
Suddenly, the sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out, and the attacking slaves scattered in panic.
Rhaegar turned his gaze toward the commotion.
A frail-looking foreign girl stood up, gripping a dagger in one hand and holding a pirate's severed head in the other.
*Clang—*
She let go of the dagger, her flat chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as she stepped forward toward the deck.
The other slaves parted to make way for her.
When she reached the group of slaves, she suddenly dropped to her knees with a *thud*, holding the pirate's head in both hands while bowing her head in silence.
Rhaegar studied her for a moment—thin as a twig, with messy black hair and a pale foreign face.
"What's your name?"
He was curious about her swift and efficient killing technique.
"Sara."
Her voice was hoarse, and she looked incredibly weak.
"You're a slave too?"
"I haven't been sold yet."
She denied being a slave, though she was visibly on the verge of collapse.
Rhaegar glanced at the women among the slaves and instructed, "Take care of her. A fleet will arrive tonight to take you all away."
She was a brave girl, but he had no time to deal with minor matters now.
"Oh great Lord of Dragons, where will the fleet take us?"
A frail old man asked tremulously.
Rhaegar hesitated and looked up at Rhaenys.
These people were all former slaves—he couldn't sell them, nor was it easy to resettle them.
Sensing his dilemma, Rhaenys said, "We'll transport them to Tideshead Island first. If they can't find work there, we'll send them to King's Landing."
She was experienced in handling such matters.
Most slaves, aside from women and children, were young laborers or skilled craftsmen.
As long as they had a stable environment, survival wouldn't be an issue.
"Alright, let's do that."
Rhaegar nodded in agreement, deciding to return to Tideshead Island.
"Wait!"
The foreign girl suddenly called out, her voice urgent. "Honorable prince, I have a treasure to offer you."
Rhaegar paused, intrigued. "Oh? What treasure?"
Several merchant ships were nearby—there was a chance something rare and valuable had been found.
His Explorer's Quest required such artifacts, especially those with ancient origins or unique materials.
"A Valyrian steel longsword!"
The girl answered immediately.
"A Valyrian steel sword? Where is it?"
Rhaegar's eyes lit up with excitement.
A single Valyrian steel sword was worth a fortune—there were only a handful in all of Westeros.
Moreover, Valyrian steel was infused with magic. If it had a significant enough history, it could trigger an Explorer's Quest.
"It's in the slave master's cabin. He used it to behead a female slave, just to show off its sharpness."
Sara's voice was weak.
The frail old man gasped upon hearing this and quickly urged the young men beside him, "Go! Hurry and find that sword for our Dragon Lord!"
The other slaves immediately rushed into the wrecked ship, ignoring the scorching, charred wood as they searched frantically.
Before long, a charred corpse was dragged out.
Beside it lay a pitch-black longsword.
The old man picked up the sword and carefully wiped away the ash with a coarse cloth, revealing the true form of the Valyrian steel blade.
Now, we just need a fitting name for this Valyrian steel sword.
(End of Chapter)