Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 147: Unexpected Gain

Boom…

The pirate ship nearly capsized under the intense spray of dragonfire. The mast snapped in the middle, crashing down.

The sailor manning the scorpion crossbow didn’t have a chance to dodge and was crushed beneath the falling mast, his body incinerated by the flames.

“Keep burning, sink the whole ship!” Rhaegar commanded, urging Cannibal to continue its fiery assault.

With the threat of the scorpion crossbow neutralized, Cannibal hovered in the air, unbothered by the remaining arrows, and bathed the entire pirate ship in green dragonfire.

Rhaegar sat in his saddle, vigilantly scanning for any escaping enemies. It was his first encounter with the fearsome pirates of the Triarchy, and he was determined not to let his guard down. The only way to ensure victory was to completely engulf the ship in flames.

After a while, Rhaenys arrived on Meleys and called out, “Rhaegar, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but I did spot a scorpion crossbow,” Rhaegar replied, signaling Cannibal to stop its onslaught. Below them, the pirate ship was reduced to a smoldering wreck.

“You’re so cautious,” Rhaenys remarked, tugging on Meleys’ reins as she surveyed the devastation below. The ship was completely incinerated, with not a single pirate or weapon left intact.

“It’s good to be cautious,” Rhaegar said with a grin, steering Cannibal towards the merchant ship that had been rescued.

Rhaenys nodded and guided her dragon to follow.

Back on the remote island where the battle had taken place, the remnants of the pirate ship continued to burn, with the dragonfire consuming everything.

The merchant ship nearby had also been affected, with its hull scorched and its canvas still smoldering.

Poof!

A charred hatch burst open, and a group of emaciated, unclothed people scrambled out.

“The slave traders are dead, let’s run!”

“Blessed be the Lord of Light, the flames purify the sins…”

This ragged group, comprised of the old and young, men and women, fled in panic.

“Are these people slaves?” Rhaegar’s face darkened, his voice turning cold at the mention of slave traders.

Westeros vehemently opposed slavery, and the slave trade was forbidden. This was his first encounter with a slave ship.

“Slaves exist everywhere, except in Westeros and Braavos where slavery is explicitly outlawed,” Rhaenys responded, her tone muted and her brow furrowed in distaste.

Having traveled extensively with her husband’s fleet, she had witnessed the harsh realities of slavery, especially in places like Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and Slaver’s Bay, where slaves were treated like livestock.

“Shall we go down and take a look?” Rhaenys suggested, noting Rhaegar’s revulsion.

“Good idea. This ship won’t last long. Let’s transfer these people to another merchant ship,” Rhaegar agreed, guiding Cannibal to lower its altitude.

“Dragonlord… Dragonlord…” The slaves fell to their knees, bowing in fear as the dragon approached.

The Dragonlord families of old Valyria still haunted the memories of Essos.

Rhaegar called out loudly, “Where are you from, and where were you being taken?”

“Great Dragonlord, we were sold from all over the world, and this ship was bound for Pentos,” an elderly, gaunt man replied, his voice raspy.

“Pentos?” Rhaegar was taken aback.

Pentos, a free city, had an agreement with Braavos to prohibit slave trading. However, it wasn’t unusual for Pentos to covertly defy this ban, as it wasn’t bounded by Westerosi ideals.

Rhaegar pondered this, realizing that despite surface agreements, the reality of slavery continued in the shadows.

As Rhaegar was deep in thought, a man crawled out from among the kneeling slaves, trying to sneak away.

“He’s a pirate!” someone shouted, exposing the escapee.

Before the pirate could react, the surrounding slaves stormed him, subduing him with punches and kicks.

Rhaegar watched coldly, not intervening. He had already sensed something was off about this man—the other slaves were all thin, but he was robust and strong.

Suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh echoed, and the attacking slaves scattered in panic.

Rhaegar looked over.

A thin, young girl stood up, holding a dagger in one hand and the pirate’s severed head in the other.

Clang…

The girl dropped the dagger, her chest heaving slightly, and she stepped forward. The other slaves moved aside to let her pass.

When she reached a group of slaves, she fell to her knees, holding the pirate’s head low without a word.

Rhaegar studied her. She was as thin as a reed, with messy black hair and a pale, exotic face.

“What’s your name?” Rhaegar was intrigued by her swiftness in killing.

“Sara,” the girl’s voice was hoarse, and she looked weak.

“Are you also a slave?”

“I haven’t been sold,” Sara replied, her voice faltering between words.

Rhaegar glanced at the girl among the slaves and instructed, “Take care of her for now. A fleet will take you away tonight.”

She had guts, but Rhaegar had no time for trivial matters at the moment.

“Great Dragonlord, where will the fleet take us?” the dry, thin old man asked with trepidation.

Rhaegar paused and looked up at Rhaenys. These folks weren’t slaves for sale or resettlement.

Seeing his difficulty, Rhaenys stepped in, “First, we’ll transport them to Driftmark. Those who can’t find work there will be sent to King’s Landing.”

She was experienced in such matters. Slaves often included women, children, young laborers, and various craftsmen. In a stable environment, they could find a way to live.

“Good, let’s do that,” Rhaegar agreed, preparing to return to Driftmark.

“Wait!” the foreign girl hurriedly spoke up, excitedly saying, “Honorable Prince, I have a treasure to present to you.'”

Rhaegar paused, intrigued. “Oh? What kind of treasure?”

There were several merchant ships in the vicinity, and it was uncertain what kind of treasure might be found among them. His explorer’s system missions required such treasures of long tradition or rare materials.

“It’s a longsword made of Valyrian steel!” the young girl answered immediately.

Rhaegar’s eyes lit up with excitement. A Valyrian steel longsword was worth a fortune, and there were few in all of Westeros. Moreover, Valyrian steel contained magic, which, with certain experiences, could trigger an explorer’s mission.

“Valyrian steel longsword? Where is it?” Rhaegar asked eagerly.

“In the slave master’s cabin. He used that sword to demonstrate its sharpness by chopping off the head of a female slave,” Sara said weakly.

The thin old man was shocked by the news and hurriedly urged the stronger men around him, “Quickly, find that sword for the Dragonlord.”

The other slaves rushed into the ruined cabin, searching everywhere despite the burning wood. Soon, they overturned a charred body, and a long, dark sword fell beside it.

The thin old man retrieved the sword and used a piece of hemp cloth to carefully wipe away the ashes, revealing the true appearance of the Valyrian steel longsword.