Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Petyr smiled slightly and said, "Actually, Lord Gavin, you only need someone to speak for you at the Royal Council. I believe the Prime Minister would consider the opinions of others as well."

Hearing this, Gavin responded promptly, "I wonder if Lord Petyr can assist me by speaking at the Royal Council?"

Petyr smiled modestly, his voice smooth. **"It's not within my power alone, Lord Gavin, but I have a proposal. Since the rebellion of the Iron Islands, the Royal Fleet has not been replenished. Funds are often delayed, and His Majesty shows little interest in addressing the matter. Recently, Lord Stannis has been persistently demanding increased funding for the fleet during Royal Council meetings, only to be rejected repeatedly by the Prime Minister.

"If you, Lord Gavin, are willing to have your fleet assist the Royal Fleet in patrolling and combating pirates, ensuring the kingdom's stability, I can lobby Lord Stannis on your behalf. Lord Stannis, being a man of tradition, would likely speak for you at the Royal Council."**

Gavin smiled, his tone cordial. "Of course, I am willing to contribute to the kingdom's stability. These arrangements will depend on your guidance, Lord Petyr."

As Petyr departed, Gavin stood by the window, watching Littlefinger's figure recede into the distance. His admiration for this master manipulator deepened.

"With just one conversation," Gavin thought, "he's managed to derail Jon Arryn's decree, ensuring the Iron Throne's financial woes persist. This paves the way for him to become Chancellor of the Exchequer and indirectly does a favor for Stannis.

"I'll have to personally meet Stannis and present my fleet's efforts to protect the royal navy in the best possible light. Though, knowing Stannis, he might not even acknowledge Littlefinger's role in this."

Gavin mused further, recognizing that the dragon bones Littlefinger referred to likely originated from the Red Keep itself. Both men tacitly understood this. Nevertheless, Gavin knew the golden dragons in exchange for the bones wouldn't go directly into Petyr's pocket—at least not visibly.

"If I didn't know the depths of his cunning, I might have actually believed he was acting out of goodwill."

The sky above the Narrow Sea shone like a sapphire, pure and clean, with white clouds drifting leisurely. A soft sea breeze carried the tang of salt and brine. Yet the tranquility of the skies belied the turmoil below.

The three-bow crossbow on the prow of a warship fired repeatedly. The specialized bolts, propelled with immense kinetic energy, splintered the wooden stern of a fleeing pirate ship. Fragments scattered like snowflakes, filling the air with a sharp staccato of cracking wood.

Three warships bore down mercilessly on two pirate vessels. One bolt struck true, shattering the mast of a longship. The broken mast toppled, its torn canvas splashing into the waves and sending a cascade of seawater into the air. The pirates, caught in chaos, cursed and shouted as their ship slowed.

The victorious warship, its mast proudly flying the flaming flag of the fleet, did not pause. It surged past the crippled vessel, hunting down the other fleeing pirate ship.

The pirates left aboard the damaged vessel, anticipating a boarding attack, watched nervously. But the warship paid them no heed. Just as they exhaled in relief, a tremendous jolt rocked their ship.

A vessel bearing the Crowned Stag of Baratheon emerged from behind. Its massive ram struck the damaged hull with precision, splintering it further. Water gushed through the shattered planks as the pirate ship tilted dangerously. Desperate crew members leapt overboard, only to be met with a volley of arrows raining down from above.

The pirate ship began to sink slowly into the depths. Broken boards and the widening ripples on the sea's surface were all that remained of its defiant stand.

On the other side of the skirmish, the remaining pirate ship had no such luck. The pursuing warship closed in swiftly, launching a deadly volley of crossbow bolts that cleared the enemy's deck. Soldiers poured onto the vessel like a torrent, engaging the remaining pirates in brutal melee combat.

The air rang with the clash of steel and the cries of men. Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, the pirates surrendered. The once-defiant ship was seized, a symbol of yet another victory for the fleet.

As calm returned to the sea, Hassan boarded a Baratheon warship in a small boat. He climbed aboard with ease, the sea breeze stirring his curly hair. He found himself face-to-face with Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, who awaited him with arms crossed and a teasing smile.

"It seems Commander Hassan has made quite the unexpected catch," Davos said, his voice light but edged with approval.

Hassan grinned, his face alight with excitement. "All thanks to your judgment. The pirates really did take this route. Otherwise, how could we have caught them?"

Davos chuckled, shaking his head. "There wasn't much judgment involved, truth be told. I used to run smuggling operations along this route. It's the only way they could've avoided patrols."

Hassan slapped Davos on the shoulder, laughing. **"I was just a hired captain eking out a living on the Narrow Sea. Who'd have thought I'd be commanding a fleet now? I'm no expert at naval warfare, but

I've spent enough time at sea to know how to run a ship well. That's why my ships always outpace yours."**

Davos smiled, his tone playful. "Speed isn't everything, Commander. Care for some summer red to celebrate?"

Hassan's grin widened. "I've been waiting for you to share that wine for ages. You've been holding out on me!"

Davos led the way to his captain's quarters, the room simple yet practical. A well-worn nautical chart lay spread across the wooden table, surrounded by compasses, telescopes, and other navigation tools.

Davos bent down, retrieving a bottle of summer red from beneath the table. He poured a glass for Hassan, the red liquid catching the light and releasing an inviting aroma.

Hassan took a sip and settled into a chair, his expression contemplative. After a moment, he broke the silence. "Davos, do you think we should stay here, intercepting smugglers and pirates, or head home? Pirate activity seems to be dwindling these days."

Davos clasped his hands, frowning slightly. "You're not wrong. Supplies are running low, and our men could use a break. I say we rest here for a couple of days, then return. We've accomplished plenty on this run."