Two months had passed since the conquest of Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys. Under Alex's leadership, the cities had begun a new chapter. Slavery was abolished, and the corrupt ruling classes were replaced with a structured government overseen by Alex's appointed governors. Each city now had a council composed of freedmen and Alex's financial and legal teams, ensuring fair governance and efficient management.
In Pentos, Alex stood in the great hall of his castle, the system interface glowing before him. These were the rewards that he had collected from conquering those 3 cities in past 2 months.
System Rewards for Conquering Three Free Cities:
3 Law and Finance Management Teams
3 Small Warships (Fully Crewed)
3 Battalions of Elite Soldiers
Credits: +30,000
Alex smirked as the rewards materialized into reality. The warships were already outside of each freed city, sight that filled the citizens with both awe and reassurance. The battalions well-trained and loyal had already been assigned to reinforce the defenses of Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys.
Daenerys joined him, watching the process with fascination. "Now the other cities won't stay quite. They will retaliate".
Alex nodded. "Let them come. They'll soon learn not to underestimate us."
Far to the south in Volantis, a tense meeting was taking place. The rulers of Volantis, Braavos, Astapor, and Meereen had convened to discuss the growing threat posed by Alex and his armies.
The High Priestess of the Red Temple, seated at the head of the table, began the discussion. "This man, Alex, and his strange weapons have turned the balance of power in Essos upside down. Three free cities taken in two months? That is no coincidence."
The ruler of Braavos, a shrewd and calculating man, leaned forward. "It's not just his weapons. He has dragons. And one of them Ancalagon is said to be a growing at a fast speed. The faceless men confirmed it."
The Archon of Volantis chimed in. "Wildfire. It's our only chance. If his dragon is growing as large as they say, conventional methods will fail."
The ruler of Astapor frowned. "Even if we use wildfire, how do we deal with his weapons? We bought samples from the faceless men, but they are beyond our comprehension. Our blacksmiths couldn't even replicate the simplest mechanism."
The High Priestess raised a hand. "Then we must combine our strengths. Wildfire for his dragon, armies for his soldiers, and gold to bribe his allies. This alliance must act swiftly before he grows too strong to stop."
"Do we know how this man came to process the knowledge of these weapons that our blacksmiths can't even seem to copy it".
"We had merchants asked for weapons trade in past, but Their ruler refused it straight away. It seems like he hides a lot of secrets." Said archon of Volantis.
The table fell silent, the weight of their decision pressing down on them. The alliance was formed, their resources pooled together to strike a decisive blow against Alex's growing empire.
Back in Pentos, Alex and Daenerys were overseeing the integration of the three cities into their empire. The newly formed governments were functioning well, with laws designed to promote equality and prosperity.
Manuul entered the Royal Halls, "Your Majesty our scouts reports that they saw ships from Braavos going towards Volantis. We are thinking that they are making some kind of alliance behind our back".
Alex's eyes narrowed. "I expected this. They won't sit idly by while we reshape Essos."
Daenerys frowned. "Do we know their plans?"
Manuul hesitated. "The faceless men have been feeding them information about our forces and out weapons that they stole few months back".
"They can't do anything in the face of absolute power. Let them make our weapons, if they can that is".
Flashback 2months back
Outside the walls of Braavos, the two faceless men who had infiltrated Pentos delivered their final report to the Iron Bank.
"The dragon Ancalagon is unlike anything we've ever seen," one of them said. "Its size alone will make it a weapon of mass destruction in the future And Alex's soldiers… their weapons are unlike anything in this world. They cut down armies like wheat."
The banker listening to the report frowned. "And the weapons? Were you able to replicate them?"
The faceless man shook his head. "No. We stole a few, but their mechanisms are far beyond our understanding. They're not of this world".
ON THE OTHER SIDE
WINTERFELL, NORTH
WESTROS
Winterfell's towering walls stood resilient, a testament to the strength of House Stark. Inside the castle, preparations were underway for a royal visit the King himself, Robert Baratheon, was arriving from King's Landing, accompanied by his queen, Cersei Lannister, and their retinue.
The sound of horns echoed through the icy air as the royal procession approached Winterfell's gates. Hundreds of soldiers clad in Baratheon and Lannister colors marched in perfect formation, their banners fluttering in the cold northern breeze. At the forefront, King Robert Baratheon rode on a black stallion, his broad frame clad in regal attire, though his belt strained under the weight of his indulgence.
Behind him rode Queen Cersei, her golden hair glinting in the sunlight, a look of cold detachment on her face. Her twin brother Jaime rode beside her, his golden armor polished to perfection. The rest of the Lannisters, including Tyrion, followed, along with the royal household guard.
Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, stood at the gates with his family. His wife, Catelyn, their children Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and young Rickon and even Jon Snow, the Lord's illegitimate son, were lined up to greet the King.
As Robert dismounted, a wide grin broke across his face. "Ned! You stubborn old wolf!" he bellowed, striding forward.
Eddard stepped forward, his usual stoic demeanor softening as he embraced his old friend. "Your Grace," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"None of that," Robert said, clapping Ned on the back. "We've been through too much for formalities."
Queen Cersei dismounted gracefully, her emerald eyes scanning the Stark family with a barely veiled look of superiority. Eddard bowed slightly. "Your Grace, welcome to Winterfell."
Cersei inclined her head. "Lord Stark. Winterfell is… quaint."
Arya whispered to Jon, "She doesn't like it here."
Jon smirked. "I don't think she likes anything."
That evening, the Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. The Starks had prepared a grand feast in honor of the King's visit. Roasted boar, venison, and countless other dishes covered the long tables, while ale and wine flowed freely.
Robert, already a few cups deep, leaned back in his chair, watching as the Stark children interacted with his own. "Your boys are growing into fine men, Ned. Robb looks just like you did at his age."
"And Arya," Robert added with a laugh as he caught her throwing food at Bran, "she's got fire. Reminds me of Lyanna."
Ned's expression darkened briefly at the mention of his late sister, but he nodded. "They're good children."
Meanwhile, Sansa sat near Queen Cersei, trying her best to act the part of a proper lady. She listened intently as the Queen spoke about the grandeur of the South, though Arya rolled her eyes from across the table.
At the high table, Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow exchanged glances. Jaime smirked, clearly sizing up the young bastard. Tyrion, sitting nearby, noticed and chuckled. "Don't let him bother you, boy. My brother has a way of staring that makes most people uncomfortable."
Jon raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, turning his attention back to the feast.
After the feast, Robert and Eddard retreated to the crypts of Winterfell, where the Starks' ancestors were buried. The torches cast flickering shadows on the cold stone walls as the two old friends walked among the statues.
"You've done well, Ned," Robert said, looking around. "Winterfell stands strong."
"As it always has," Ned replied.
Robert stopped in front of Lyanna Stark's tomb, his expression softening. "I loved her, you know. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her."
Ned placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's at peace now."
Robert sighed deeply, then turned to face Ned. "That's not why I'm here, though. I need you, Ned. I need you in King's Landing."
Ned frowned. "You have a Hand, Robert."
"Jon Arryn is dead," Robert said grimly. "Poisoned. Murdered in my own castle."
Ned's eyes widened. "Murdered? Who would dare—"
Robert cut him off. "I don't know, but I need someone I can trust. Someone who won't scheme behind my back or whisper in the shadows. That's you, Ned. Come to King's Landing. Be my Hand. Help me keep this damn kingdom together."
Ned hesitated, the weight of the request sinking in. "My family… my responsibilities here…"
Robert grabbed his shoulder. "This is bigger than Winterfell, Ned. Bigger than the North. You're the only one I trust."
As the royal visit continued, an air of tension lingered in Winterfell. While Robert reveled in the company of his old friend, Cersei and Jaime whispered among themselves, their plans concealed behind golden masks of civility.
Far to the east, beyond the Narrow Sea, another storm was brewing. Alex and Daenerys, with their dragons and strange weapons, had reshaped the power dynamics of Essos. Unbeknownst to the Starks or Baratheons, the tides of war were shifting, and the ripples would soon reach the shores of Westeros.
For now, the North feasted, laughed, and welcomed its King. But winter was coming, and with it, the beginning of a new era.