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Chapter 191: Return to Port
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 12:13:29 +0000 UTCCaron was the Iron Throne's secret agent planted in Miracle Harbor. From the moment construction began, he had embedded himself there under the guise of a Free Folk.
For him, life in Miracle Harbor was everything he had dreamed of—a stable job, a steady income, a loving wife, and now, a child on the way.
But he was keenly aware that none of it was real. A mere flick of the finger from King's Landing could shatter his idyllic life in an instant. That was why he had to consistently deliver useful intelligence to the capital.
A month ago, reporting on the merchant guilds at the docks had been enough to satisfy his superiors. But now, that was no longer the case. Information about Lynd had become King's Landing’s primary focus. If someone else managed to obtain intelligence on Lynd while he remained empty-handed, he would be in serious trouble.
So, upon learning that Lynd had tamed the sea dragon and was on his way back to Miracle Harbor, Caron leveraged his cover as a fisherman. Using the excuse of a fishing trip, he lingered for days in the waters off the harbor, keeping a messenger raven aboard his boat so that he could immediately relay the news of Lynd’s return.
Yet, after days of waiting, all he had seen were merchant guild ships—no sign of the Miracle Fleet’s warships. This made him start to doubt whether Lynd’s return was even real.
"I’ll give it one more day," Caron murmured to himself, glancing at the dwindling supplies of food and fresh water on his boat with a sigh.
Time crawled by, and the dark clouds gathering overhead filled him with unease. Years of experience told him that rain was coming. The only question was whether it would be a passing shower or a full-blown storm.
As expected, the rain came, and with it, howling winds and flashes of lightning.
Caron had already stowed the sails and pulled up the anchor. Sitting in the middle of his small boat, he tied himself securely to it, clutching a wooden bucket in preparation to bail out water at a moment’s notice.
A storm at sea wasn’t something that frightened him. As long as the violent winds didn’t tear his boat apart, he knew he would survive.
Though he wasn’t a devout believer, his role as a spy required him to pose as one. He made a habit of visiting Miracle Sept to pray daily. Over time, he had unconsciously picked up the habit of praying to the Seven whenever trouble arose. Now, he found himself appealing to the Smith, asking that the nails and glue holding his boat together withstand the storm’s fury.
As he whispered his prayer, a familiar whale song cut through the roaring tempest, breaking through his thoughts and reaching his ears.
Before coming to Miracle Harbor, Caron had been a whaler aboard Spear of the King’s Landing. He knew the sound of whales well, and just from the song, he could tell this was a red-backed whale—one of the species that migrated through the waters of the Dornish Sea.
These whales spent their winters in the warm Dornish waters before traveling north to the Shivering Sea in the summer to birth their young, returning to the south once winter approached again.
In the Dornish Sea, red-backed whales were considered symbols of good fortune. Fishermen who encountered one were believed to have bountiful catches, and merchant ships were said to experience smooth sailing.
Caron wasn’t one to believe in such superstitions, but seeing a red-backed whale still brought him a sense of relief. He knew for a fact that these whales never surfaced during storms. Instead, they waited in the calm depths until the worst had passed. If one had appeared now, it likely meant that this sudden storm would not last long, nor would it be too severe.
Just as he felt a moment of reassurance, a massive whale with a clearly visible red back glided past the front of his fishing boat. It was followed by fourteen or fifteen more, their powerful tails slicing through the waves. A few of them came so close that their movements nearly capsized Caron’s boat.
“Something's not right! Why are the red-backed whales swimming in a group?” Caron muttered, his expression filled with confusion rather than excitement at the sight before him.
From what he knew, red-backed whales rarely traveled in pods unless it was during their great migration between the north and south. Typically, they lived separately within their own territories, only gathering when the lead whale sang the migration song.
What puzzled him even more was that he was currently near the coastline, at the westernmost edge of the Sea of Dorne. The waters here were shallow, unsuitable for red-backed whales, yet now, a large group had appeared at the same time. This was far from normal.
Just as Caron was struggling to make sense of the situation, an enormous maw burst from the depths of the sea, swallowing a massive red-backed whale in an instant—one nearly the size of a large merchant ship.
Then, two powerful claws shot up from the water, seizing another two whales of similar size. The rest of the pod erupted into panic, fleeing in all directions. Several of them, in their frantic escape, swam the wrong way, beaching themselves in the shallows along the coastline.
“A dragon! A sea dragon!” Caron finally saw the full form of that massive maw—it belonged to an enormous dragon. Behind its head was a long, sinuous neck, and beneath the churning water, he could make out the shifting bulk of its body. Its claws, large and formidable, bore the tattered remains of wings. The whales it had seized struggled violently, but no amount of thrashing could break them free from its grip.
Caron then watched as the dragon’s throat expanded, a bulge in the shape of a red-backed whale sliding down its gullet. In quick succession, the two other whales followed, swallowed whole with frightening ease.
He was still frozen in shock when, through the veil of rain and mist, a fleet of Ironborn longships emerged in the distance. They seemed to pay no mind to the massive sea dragon in their path, sailing directly toward it.
The dragon turned its gaze toward the fleet and let out a deafening roar, directing it at the largest longship leading the formation before disappearing beneath the waves once more.
Caron’s eyes immediately locked onto that ship. Even through the downpour, he could see the figure standing at its prow. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the distinct greatswords hanging from the man’s waist—there was no mistaking his identity. The one he had been waiting for all these days had finally arrived.
Lynd Tarran, the Lord of Summerhall. The Chosen One.
“The rumors were true... he really tamed a sea dragon!” Caron’s mind reeled in disbelief. He remained stunned until the last ship in the fleet passed before him, only then snapping back to reality.
Wasting no time, he grabbed his writing materials and quickly scribbled down everything he had just witnessed. He then retrieved his messenger raven, secured the letter in the small tube attached to its leg, and flung it into the air, sending it off toward King’s Landing.
But before the raven could gain any altitude, a massive mouth erupted from the water, snapping it up in a single bite.
A split second later, a powerful tail whipped up from beneath Caron’s fishing boat, smashing the vessel into splinters. The force of the blow sent Caron hurtling into the air, where he was reduced to nothing more than a mist of blood.
...
Caron had thought he was being discreet, that his actions had gone unnoticed. But what he didn't know was that he was far from the first spy Lynd had encountered on this journey.
So far, Lynd had come across more than a dozen such "fishing boats." At first, he had taken the time to capture and interrogate one of the spies, but as the numbers increased, he grew tired of the effort. Instead, he left the matter to the Cannibal.
And the Cannibal executed its orders flawlessly, eliminating every single one of the spies Lynd had identified.
Even without explicit instructions on how to do so, the sea dragon refrained from simply swallowing the boats whole, despite that being the easiest and most direct method. Instead, it used its claws and tail to tear the spies apart.
This was proof that the dragon had begun to internalize the same principle as Lynd—humans were not to be eaten.
Lynd had no intention of hiding his return. In truth, such news was impossible to suppress. His goal had only been to find an excuse to rid himself of these troublesome spies.
As the fleet drew closer to Miracle Harbor, the number of ships they encountered increased. These vessels belonged to merchant guilds from all corners of the world, drawn to the growing power of the harbor.
At that moment, Lynd no longer stood at the prow of the Nightwalker. Instead, he had moved onto the Cannibal’s massive head, allowing the dragon to surface and fully display its enormous body.
The sight sent ripples across the fleet. Every ship that witnessed it hoisted the banner of the Miracle Merchant Guild to their highest masts and sounded their horns.
For a time, the sea was filled with the echo of horns, their calls spreading toward Miracle Harbor. As Lynd, riding atop the Cannibal, approached the harbor, the bells of the Miracle Sept, the grand lighthouse, and every bell tower in the city began to ring in unison. From the docks, the horns of every ship joined the chorus.
The entire port was packed with people—rooftops, streets, and ships alike overflowing with eager onlookers. Every eye was fixed on Lynd as he rode his dragon. Knowing this, he did not have the Cannibal land directly at the military harbor. Instead, he guided the dragon in a slow circuit around the main docks, allowing the people to cheer and take in the sight. Only after completing the lap did he steer the Cannibal toward the secluded military harbor.
Once there, Lynd dismounted and let the Cannibal return to the sea to find a suitable place nearby to establish a lair.
“Everyone, you’ve all worked hard,” he said, turning to the officials of Miracle Harbor, who were still frozen in shock after witnessing the spectacle.
His words snapped them back to reality, and they hurriedly scrambled to respond, each trying to outdo the other in eloquence, offering exaggerated accounts of their hardships—always making sure to contrast them with the far greater dangers Lynd had faced.
Lynd couldn’t help but smile at their well-practiced flattery. He had no interest in entertaining them further. Instead, he dismissed the majority of Miracle Harbor’s officials, instructing them to return to their duties. He only kept behind a select few: Wyeth Rowan, the chief administrator of Miracle Harbor; Scar-Eyed Mitt, the garrison commander; Gorman Celtigar, the executive chairman of the Miracle Merchant Guild; and the two leaders of the garrison’s female battalion, Dacey Mormont and Obara Sand.
Leading them to the office of the Miracle Fleet’s commander at the docks, Lynd instructed them to wait while he took time to freshen up and change. After all, he had gone more than two months without a proper wash, and the stench clung to him.
Only after he had cleaned himself up did he return to the office, where the officials of Miracle Harbor began reporting in detail on recent events and pressing matters that required his attention.
While Baelor Blacktyde had already given Lynd an overview of the territory’s situation, his report had been too broad—just a summary without specifics.
The reports from the local officials, however, were much more detailed. In particular, Dacey Mormont and Obara Sand, who had both served on the front lines during the unification war at the southwestern edge of the Red Mountains, provided an in-depth account of the campaign.
According to Baelor’s earlier report, the battle had been an overwhelming success. But the reality, as Dacey and Obara described, had been far more complicated.
The terrain rendered cavalry nearly useless, forcing the army to rely entirely on infantry. The wildling tribes, well-versed in the landscape, capitalized on their knowledge to launch ambushes, targeting the army’s weak points. The early battles had been brutal, with significant casualties.
Fortunately, later in the campaign, Nymeria had sent reinforcements—Glory and the Stone Giants. Glory helped locate hidden enemy forces, while the Stone Giants, clad in full bronze armor, tore through the wildlings' fortifications. Only then did the war begin to turn decisively in their favor.
While the campaign had ultimately ended in a resounding victory—the first major engagement fought by Lynd’s newly formed standing army—the reports from Dacey and Obara highlighted several shortcomings that needed to be addressed.
One of the most pressing issues was the lack of a permanent commander for the Miracle Army.
Lynd’s original vision for the Miracle Army had been to structure it like a standing army training camp. Rather than appointing high-ranking officers, the army was composed of smaller units led by low-ranking captains. In times of war, these units would be assigned under different knight-officers as needed, ensuring that no single military leader amassed too much power.
However, while this system effectively prevented any one individual from monopolizing command, it also severely hindered the army’s battlefield effectiveness. The problem was not with individual soldiers but with coordination and leadership. The knight-officers given temporary command of these forces had no experience in leading them as a cohesive unit. The result was chaos in battle—formations breaking down and strategy reduced to little more than a disorganized melee.
After listening to Dacey’s report, Lynd had made up his mind—it was time to professionalize and formalize the Miracle Army. And the first step was to appoint a permanent commander.
He turned to Dacey and asked, “Dacey, would you be interested in becoming the first commander of the Miracle Army?”
The moment Lynd spoke, the room fell silent. All eyes turned to Dacey.
She froze for a moment, surprise flickering across her face before it was replaced by something more complex.
Though the Miracle Army was seen as the weakest of Lynd’s forces, it was still a standing force of 5,000, equipped with the best weapons and armor available. To command such an army was an enviable position—one that any knight eager for battle would dream of.
But for Dacey, this offer had come too late.
She sighed. “My lord, I cannot accept your appointment. In fact, I must also resign from my current position.”
Lynd frowned. “Why?”
Dacey exhaled another sigh before answering. “My cousin, Jorah Mormont, was caught selling slaves. Lord Eddard sentenced him to death. Before the sentence could be carried out, Jorah fled with his wife. His title was stripped as a result.”
Lynd’s expression darkened. “Shouldn’t your mother, Lady Maege, inherit the title of Bear Island’s ruler in the line of succession?”
Dacey looked down, her voice heavy with emotion. “My mother has decided to relinquish the title. She wants me to return and take her place as Lady of Bear Island.”
