Chapter 22: The Firebird's Gauntlet and the Price of Victory
The air in the Nexus crackled with a tension that Viserys could almost taste, a metallic tang like ozone before a lightning strike. For days, coded messages had been arriving with agonizing infrequency, relayed by swift Phoenix Company cutters darting between Braavos and pre-arranged rendezvous points closer to the southern Essosi coast. The joint operation with Kiera Redfin against the Volantene Vaelaros treasure fleet – an endeavor Viserys had privately codenamed "Firebird's Gauntlet" – was underway, and he, hundreds of leagues distant, could only wait, analyze the fragmented reports, and trust in the meticulous planning, the training of his men, and the volatile ambition of his Corsair Queen ally. Alistair Finch, the historian, recalled countless accounts of commanders enduring such agonizing suspense; Viserys Targaryen, the boy-king, lived it, the strain a cold knot in his belly that even his enhanced physiology could not entirely dispel.
He spent these days almost entirely within the Nexus, Daenerys his only frequent visitor, her quiet presence a strange solace. Lyra of Lys had prepared a potent infusion of herbs that sharpened his focus and fought off fatigue, allowing him to pore over charts of the Disputed Lands and the coastal waters off Volantis, his mind replaying every contingency, every possible permutation of the battle. He found himself increasingly relying on those fleeting, frustratingly unreliable mental "sensings," trying to reach out across the leagues, to feel the pulse of the distant conflict, the state of his ships, the morale of his men. Sometimes, a wave of cold dread would wash over him, unrelated to any specific news, only to be followed by a surge of what felt like distant, savage triumph. He recorded these sensations meticulously, seeking patterns, however illusory.
The combined fleet – Kiera Redfin's dozen or so pirate vessels, ranging from swift sloops like her flagship, the Sea Viper, to larger, more heavily armed captured merchantmen, alongside the Phoenix Company's core squadron: the formidable Nyx captained by Valerion Qo, and two newly commissioned, heavily armed Phoenix sloops, the Shadowtalon captained by the grim Lyseni ex-legionnaire Draq, and the Stormfin led by a promising, young Braavosi officer named Tycho Neris, who had risen through the ranks of the Nyx's original crew – had converged on the Vaelaros fleet's predicted route through the Summer Sea, near the treacherous Dragon's Neck archipelago.
The first engagement, as reported by a breathless pigeon dispatch, was sharp and brutal. The Volantene escort consisted of four Triarch guard galleys, heavy, oared warships bristling with archers and marines, their purple sails emblazoned with the golden harpy of Old Ghis. They were disciplined, well-commanded, and clearly expecting trouble in these pirate-infested waters. Kiera, true to her aggressive nature, launched the initial assault, her corsairs swarming towards the treasure hulks. The Nyx, the Shadowtalon, and the Stormfin, their dark hulls and disciplined crews a stark contrast to the chaotic pirate charge, moved to engage the Volantene warships, their task to draw off the escorts and create an opening for Kiera's lighter vessels.
Xaro Xhandar's modifications to the Phoenix ships proved their worth. The concealed ballistae on the Nyx launched heavy, iron-tipped bolts that punched through the lighter timbers of one galley's outrigger, crippling its maneuverability. Draq, aboard the Shadowtalon, his voice a bellowing war cry, led a daring boarding action against another galley, his Phoenix Company marines, clad in practical boiled leather and steel helms, fighting with a disciplined ferocity that stunned the Volantene regulars. Tycho Neris, on the Stormfin, used his ship's superior speed to harass a third galley, peppering it with crossbow fire and forcing it to break formation.
But the Volantenes were no easy prey. Their admiral, a stern Old Blood noble of House Vhassar, rallied his forces, his flagship, the Harpy's Kiss, a massive, bronze-beaked behemoth, plunging into the heart of the pirate fleet, its catapults hurling firepots that turned the sea around Kiera's Sea Viper into an inferno. Kiera, her crimson-streaked hair flying, fought like a she-demon, her sloop dancing through the flames, her crew loosing showers of arrows and grappling hooks.
It was during the height of this melee that Viserys, hunched over his charts in the Nexus, experienced his most vivid mental connection yet. Suddenly, the scent of salt and smoke, the roar of battle, the screams of men, filled his senses with an almost unbearable intensity. He saw, not with his eyes, but with an inner, terrifying clarity, Kiera Redfin, surrounded, her Sea Viper grappled by two smaller Volantene patrol boats, her crew falling back. He felt her rage, her desperation, and a surge of reckless courage as she prepared to lead a suicidal counter-charge. Simultaneously, he sensed Captain Valerion Qo on the Nyx, seeing Kiera's plight, hesitating – to aid her would mean breaking formation and exposing the treasure ships he was meant to be securing.
"No!" The word was a choked whisper in the Nexus, but in his mind, it was a roar of command. He focused all his will, all the strange, empathic energy he was learning to tap, on Valerion, projecting not words, but an overwhelming sense of urgency, of opportunity – a fleeting glimpse of a weakness in the Harpy's Kiss's rudder, damaged in an earlier exchange. He pushed, with all his mental might, the imperative: Strike the flagship! Break their command!
Miles away, Valerion Qo, his face grim, suddenly barked an order, his experienced eyes catching the slight, almost imperceptible yaw in the Volantene flagship's course. "Hard to starboard! Gunners, target their rudder! Draq, Tycho, converge on the Harpy! Now!" The Nyx and the two Phoenix sloops, abandoning their previous targets, turned in perfect coordination, a focused, deadly strike force aiming for the heart of the Volantene command.
The sudden, concentrated assault caught the Volantene admiral by surprise. The Nyx's ballistae, reloaded with terrifying speed, sent their iron messengers crashing into the Harpy's Kiss's stern, shattering its already damaged steering mechanism. Draq's Shadowtalon rammed the flagship's side, his marines swarming aboard, their Braavosi steel meeting Volantene bronze in a savage melee on the flagship's decks. Kiera Redfin, seeing her chance, let out a wild war cry and, with her remaining pirates, turned the tables on her attackers, her fury redoubled.
The battle raged for another brutal hour. The Volantene admiral, fighting to the last on the deck of his crippled flagship, was cut down by Draq himself. With their command broken and their flagship burning, the remaining Volantene escorts lost cohesion. Two were sunk, their crews fighting vainly in the blood-churned water. The fourth, heavily damaged, managed to disengage and flee south, carrying news of the disaster back to Volantis.
The treasure hulks, their primary protection gone, were now easy prey. The Phoenix Company ships, with disciplined efficiency, boarded and secured the three largest vessels, focusing on portable wealth as per Viserys's instructions: chests of gold and silver coinage, caskets of gemstones, ivory, and, most importantly, the Vaelaros family's private ledgers and diplomatic correspondence, which Viserys knew could be even more valuable than the gold. Kiera Redfin's pirates, meanwhile, swarmed over the remaining smaller merchantmen, indulging in a frenzy of looting, their cries of victory echoing across the carnage-strewn sea.
The withdrawal was a race against time, the threat of Volantene reinforcements a constant spur. The combined fleet, laden with plunder and towing its most valuable prizes, limped towards their pre-arranged rendezvous in a secluded archipelago within the Basilisk Isles. Losses had been heavy. Kiera had lost three ships and nearly a third of her men. The Phoenix Company had suffered casualties as well: the Stormfin was badly damaged, its young captain Tycho Neris among the slain, along with a score of good marines and sailors. Draq was wounded, though not grievously. Even the formidable Nyx bore the scars of battle. The price of victory, Viserys knew as the grim casualty reports trickled in, was always paid in blood.
At the rendezvous, the division of the spoils was a tense affair. Kiera Redfin, her eyes blazing with triumph and bloodlust, initially demanded the lion's share, arguing that her pirates had borne the brunt of the fighting. Valerion Qo, his face an impassive mask but his hand never far from his sword, calmly presented Viserys's pre-agreed terms: a fifty-fifty split of all transportable wealth, with the Phoenix Company retaining exclusive rights to all captured documents and any high-ranking prisoners. He also subtly reminded Kiera of the Nyx's critical role in breaking the Volantene flagship, and of the Phoenix Company's superior discipline and firepower which had prevented a total rout during the early stages of the battle. After a heated exchange, punctuated by Kiera's colorful oaths and Valerion's quiet, unyielding logic, an agreement was reached, largely adhering to Viserys's original terms. Kiera, though still resentful, recognized the strategic brilliance of her anonymous benefactor and the crucial support his forces provided. She also knew that her continued dominance in the Basilisks depended on his goodwill and his supply lines.
While the Firebird's Gauntlet was being run, Viserys's gambit in Pentos reached its own nerve-wracking conclusion. The forged evidence planted by Shadowfoot's infiltrators, implicating the rival Pentoshi Magister in the plot against Illyrio, had been "discovered" by Illyrio's agents. The rival Magister, a man named Ortego, protested his innocence vehemently but fruitlessly. Illyrio, already paranoid and eager for a scapegoat, saw in Ortego's downfall an opportunity to eliminate a competitor and close the embarrassing case of the stolen ledger. Ortego's manse was raided, his assets seized, and he himself vanished into Illyrio's dungeons, his fate a subject of dark speculation. The city-wide spy hunt abated. Kipp, using the ensuing chaos and a cleverly orchestrated "prison break" from a minor holding cell where he had allowed himself to be briefly detained on a trumped-up smuggling charge (a plan coordinated with Viserys via their fastest coded messages), was successfully extracted by a Phoenix Company coastal runner. He arrived back in Braavos, gaunt and haunted by the loss of his young Pentoshi Sparrow, but alive, and carrying a trove of fresh intelligence on Illyrio's operations and his growing frustration with the instability in Volantis caused by the Vaelaros fleet's destruction.
Daenerys, throughout this period of intense, unseen conflict, seemed to live in a world both parallel and connected to Viserys's. Her dragon dreams became almost nightly occurrences. She spoke of flying through star-strewn voids, of hearing ancient Valyrian prophecies whispered on the wind, of feeling a vast, slumbering power stirring deep within the earth. One morning, she presented Viserys with a charcoal sketch of a dragon's eye, impossibly ancient and wise, its pupil a slit of molten gold. "He sees you, Vizzy," she whispered, her own eyes reflecting a distant, fiery light. "He sees what you are building." Viserys, looking at the sketch, felt an icy shiver that had nothing to do with the Braavosi damp. He redoubled his efforts to understand these visions, tasking Archivist with searching for any lore connecting dragon dreams to specific Targaryen bloodlines or future events. He also began to teach Daenerys rudimentary meditation techniques Lyra of Lys had shown him, hoping to give her some measure of control over the powerful, often terrifying, imagery that filled her nights.
The survivors of the Firebird's Gauntlet, both Phoenix Company men and Kiera's pirates who chose to take service with the "Tyroshi patron" for better pay and conditions, returned to Braavos (or, in the case of the pirates, to the Phoenix Company's new, heavily fortified operational base on a small, leased island near the fringes of the Braavosi lagoon) as hardened veterans. The captured Volantene gold and treasures swelled the Phoenix Company's coffers beyond Viserys's wildest projections. He immediately reinvested it. Xaro Xhandar, the Qartheen shipwright, was given a small fortune and a team of skilled workers to refit the captured Volantene merchantmen into armed Phoenix Company cruisers, and to begin construction on two new, even faster and more heavily armed warships based on his own innovative designs. Draq, his reputation now legendary among the Company's fighting men, was promoted to overall commander of its burgeoning maritime security forces. The Phoenix Company was no longer just a trading enterprise with a hidden agenda; it was rapidly becoming a private navy.
The reaction from Volantis to the Vaelaros fleet's destruction was, as expected, one of incandescent fury. The Triarchs blamed "Basilisk pirates" but the scale and coordination of the attack hinted at a more organized force. Volantene naval patrols in the Summer Sea were tripled, and diplomatic pressure was exerted on Braavos, Tyrosh, and Myr to crack down on any pirate activity originating from their waters or dependencies. This created a more perilous operational environment for Viserys, but also, paradoxically, increased demand for the Phoenix Company's "secure transport" services among legitimate merchants now terrified of Volantene reprisals and increased piracy.
Magister Illyrio, meanwhile, was reported by Kipp's remaining (and now extremely cautious) Pentoshi contacts to be privately furious about the Vaelaros family's misfortune, as it disrupted several of his own planned trade ventures with them. However, he was also said to be deeply impressed, and somewhat alarmed, by the audacity and military precision of the "pirate" attack, further fueling his suspicions about a new, powerful, and unseen player emerging in Essosi affairs.
Viserys, in the relative calm following the storm of the Firebird's Gauntlet, took stock. The victory had been costly, both in lives and in the heightened risk of exposure. Young Tycho Neris was dead, a promising officer lost. Other good men had fallen. The moral price, the acceptance of large-scale violence and plunder as instruments of his policy, had been paid without hesitation, Alistair Finch's academic qualms increasingly silenced by the pragmatic necessities of Viserys Targaryen's ruthless ambition. He had proven he could command a complex military operation, manage a difficult alliance, and achieve a stunning victory. But he also knew that such victories were addictive, and that each one raised the stakes, shortened the odds, and drew him further down a path from which there could be no return.
He looked at the vast sums recorded in Ledger's accounts, at the reports detailing the Phoenix Company's expanding fleet and manpower, at the intelligence flowing in from Dragon's Tooth, from Kipp's rebuilt Pentoshi network, from Kiera Redfin's pirate spies. He was building an empire in the shadows, an instrument of immense potential. But for what ultimate purpose? The Iron Throne was still a distant, almost mythical goal. His immediate challenge was to consolidate his gains, to secure his growing power base against the inevitable backlash from Volantis and the ever-watchful Illyrio, and to forge his Phoenix Company into a force capable of more than just opportunistic raids. He needed a sanctuary, a true seat of power, perhaps not in Braavos, which was becoming too confining, too exposed, but somewhere in the chaotic, fractured landscape of Essos where he could openly build the army, the navy, the kingdom in exile that would one day carry him home. The Firebird's Gauntlet had been run; the price of victory had been paid. Now, the true war for the future of House Targaryen was about to begin.