NOVEL NEXT Chapter 135: Chapter 135: Strategic Bombers
"Boom..."
It was as if a napalm bomb had detonated. A 40-meter-long warship was instantly engulfed in a dazzling fireball. A visible shockwave, carrying a dozen helpless sailors, burst outward, pushing nearby ships three to five meters away.
Through her spyglass, Dany could see the warship bearing the name Grazdan slowly disintegrating. Countless sailors writhed and screamed in the flames before their twisted bodies ignited with a crackling pop.
Fiery tongues lashed out from the ballista windows below the deck, while hundreds of sailors, like human torches, flung themselves into the sea.
The explosion was so intense that the entire battlefield fell silent for a few seconds. Then, a thunderous cheer erupted from the twenty thousand soldiers:
"Long live the Mother of Dragons! The true dragon is invincible!"
"Long live Daenerys the First!"
"The true dragon is invincible! The true dragon is invincible!"
The soldiers even stopped their tasks to wave their arms at the dragons circling in the sky, shouting at the top of their lungs. Their officers did not reprimand them—on the contrary, they raised their swords and joined in the celebration.
The raucous cheers seemed to embolden the green and white dragons. They followed their elder, the black dragon, soaring to an altitude of 3,000 meters before tucking in their wings and plummeting like javelins toward the enemy fleet below.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh
They dived 1,000 meters, adjusting their trajectories with their tails as they fell.
To their keen eyes, a target reticle seemed to lock onto the highest structure of the warships—the bridge.
At just the right moment, they spat out small flames onto the massive incendiary bombs clutched in their claws, then spread their wings and veered off in graceful arcs, heading back toward Daenerys on the city walls.
The giant incendiary bombs, however, continued their freefall at blistering speeds, emitting a piercing whistle as they gained momentum.
Dany had her brickmakers craft these incendiary bombs in the shape of missiles.
The bronze-cast pointed tip ensured the projectile maintained a nose-down trajectory (bronze being denser than clay). The rounded ceramic body was packed with white phosphorus, fire oil, and tar—just enough white phosphorus to be effective, soaked in fire oil to keep it from prematurely igniting in the air.
Fins at the tail stabilized its descent, while a thick hemp rope tied the bomb to the dragon's claw.
At 1,000 meters above the battlefield, the dragons severed the ropes with bursts of dragonfire, then banked away, leaving the missiles to plummet.
From 3,000 meters high, an 80-pound firebomb with a bronze warhead—
Thud!
The incendiary bomb pierced through the bridge.
Crash!
The brittle ceramic shattered, spraying fire oil and white phosphorus throughout the cabin. The sheer speed of the fall generated intense heat from air friction. The already-heated fire oil and white phosphorus ignited instantly upon contact with air. Then, the vaporized fire oil caught fire—
BOOOM!
The bridge was obliterated. The warship's hull was torn apart. Structures and crew on deck were incinerated in a fiery explosion.
Terrifying!
Dany's mind conjured an image—
A fully grown Drogon, capable of carrying over a thousand pounds, soaring 10,000 meters above King's Landing. Clutched in his claws, a bomb ten times larger than these—
A bomb encased in iron, packed with 800 pounds of wildfire, dropped straight onto the Red Keep.
Dany shuddered. MMP, who needs fire-breathing dragons when you can just turn them into bombers?
"Continue! Load my dragons with more firebombs! Burn the slavers to ashes!" She drew her sword and shouted to her troops.
"Long live the Mother of Dragons! Burn the slavers!"
Behind the city walls, in the plaza, the three dragons landed on a launch platform. A dozen militia pushed carts under the wooden platforms.
The carts were piled with soft straw, and in the center stood massive "missiles"—two meters long, as thick as barrels. Thin hemp ropes wove into netting around each missile, merging into a thick rope at the tail. The soldiers crouching beside the dragons secured the seven-to-eight-meter-long rope to the dragons' claws.
Drogon was the first to complete his run, the first to return, and the first to take off again.
As he flapped his wings, the massive incendiary bomb lifted smoothly into the air.
Because he needed a short gliding distance for takeoff, the soldiers on the ground had to run alongside him, pushing the cart forward for four or five meters to help the bomb lift off.
Watching the "missile" sway only slightly beneath Drogon, Dany couldn't help but admire the dragon's balance and stable flight.
About ten minutes later—
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
Three firebombs, three warships obliterated.
Each warship cost at least 10,000 gold dragons—40,000 to 50,000 wasn't unusual.
A single incendiary bomb? Just a couple of silver coins for fire oil. White phosphorus… now that was expensive. Only a handful of pyromancers in the city could produce it, and a single pound cost Dany three gold dragons.
Even so, the total cost of one incendiary bomb never exceeded five gold dragons.
This is a huge win!
"You really think Astapor has no navy, so you're confident in engaging me in a naval battle? I will bankrupt you slave masters!" Dany laughed triumphantly as three mushroom clouds rose over the sea.
However, the enemy's resilience was beyond imagination. Despite launching four consecutive waves of incendiary bombs and destroying twelve of their largest warships, not a single vessel retreated.
Not only did the enemy fleet hold its ground, but the sailors who fell into the sea also began swimming toward the docks. Within an hour, twelve ships were obliterated, while two to three thousand stranded sailors gathered at the harbor.
A wide red-brick avenue, along with taverns, food stalls, and warehouses made of stone and brick, separated the city walls from the shoreline by seventy to eighty meters.
The residents of the dock district had already evacuated, but the buildings remained intact. The sailors who made it to shore did not charge at the city walls but instead dispersed, huddling against the base of the walls for cover.
A black Unsullied soldier hesitated before glancing at Dany. After a moment of uncertainty, he approached Mormont, who was loudly commanding soldiers to attack the enemy fleet. "Commander Mormont, should we send Unsullied troops to clear out the stranded sailors?"
Dany's military regulations were clear: during wartime, lower-ranking officers must report to and take orders only from their direct superiors. They were forbidden from revealing military intelligence to higher-ranked individuals outside their chain of command, nor could they follow orders from non-direct superiors unless expressly commanded by their immediate superior.
Another rule stated that if their direct superior was killed or unable to give orders in an emergency, a soldier could follow the commands of the highest-ranking officer present.
However, none of these rules applied to the Queen. No matter the time or place, her orders held absolute authority.
This Unsullied battalion commander hesitated upon seeing Dany, unsure whether he should seek her instruction.
The Unsullied were organized into squads of fifty, with ten squads forming a company, and three companies making up a battalion. The entire 8,600-strong Unsullied force was structured as a single regiment.
Their supreme commander was Grey Worm, while this particular battalion commander was someone Dany knew—Missandei's older brother, Myssande.
Missandei and her three brothers had been sold to Astapor as slaves. She became a scribe for the Good Masters, while her brothers were turned into "sisters."
One of her brothers failed the training trials and was killed by the Good Masters. The remaining two, Myssande and Myssanlo, survived.
Perhaps the family had strong genes—at just ten years old, Missandei was a prodigy fluent in over a dozen languages. Her brothers were also highly skilled in combat, literate, and possessed excellent military knowledge and learning abilities.
As a result, Myssande and Myssanlo were both elected by their Unsullied comrades to serve as battalion commanders.
Dany was not upset with Myssande's hesitation because, before departing for battle, she had explicitly ordered all officers to follow Jorah Mormont as the supreme commander of Astapor's defensive forces. During wartime, his authority was absolute.
"If they don't attempt to storm the city, leave them be," Jorah said without hesitation.
"Commander, those sailors have learned their lesson. The moment they see a dragon flying overhead, they immediately abandon ship and jump into the sea. The last nine ships sank with almost no casualties. Soon, even more of them will gather," Myssande pointed out.
"At most, how many could there be?" Jorah scoffed. "A hundred-plus ships? At most forty to fifty thousand crew members. But the ones who fell into the sea have no armor—most don't even have weapons. Five thousand unarmored, horseless men with no siege equipment—how could they possibly take the city?"
"I understand now," Myssande said, enlightened.
At that moment, Dany interjected, "Ser Jorah, don't you think the enemy is a bit too bold? In just over an hour, they've lost over ten percent of their fleet. Normally, that would cause a mass panic and a full retreat."
Jorah frowned and sighed. "I'd like to believe they're waiting for nightfall, hoping to evade the dragons in the darkness. But I'm also worried they have some hidden trump card we don't know about. That's why I'm maintaining a defensive stance and keeping the Unsullied inside the city walls."
Dany looked westward. The once-blazing sun had turned a deep red—it was now about four in the afternoon, with another hour or two before dusk.
Reloading the dragons' incendiary bombs took time, but in one hour, they could still launch three attacks—six in two hours, burning down at least eighteen ships.
It didn't make sense. Even if the enemy raised their sails and fled at full speed, how many could realistically escape? Could it be that the Ghiscari navy had anticipated her new weapon—Little Melons?
These were beer-bottle-sized incendiary bombs, strung together in clusters specifically designed to set sails on fire.
Each dragon could drop four or five per attack, and since they didn't need to dive from high altitudes, they could operate efficiently from just two hundred meters up, increasing their attack speed.
Meanwhile, Groleo's fleet would give chase. The Viserys was the fastest ship in Slaver's Bay and could act as a floating arsenal, resupplying the dragons with ammunition.
It was possible that the enemy had already lost more than eighteen ships.
Just then, Dany's gaze swept past the Great Pyramid behind her. Her expression changed. Quickly, she grabbed her spyglass for a closer look.
Sure enough, her Dragon Horn was gone.
"Black One, stop dropping bombs and fly to the top of the pyramid. Check the gardens," she commanded her black dragon telepathically.
With a single powerful beat of its wings, Black One crossed the 500-meter distance in an instant.
Dany only needed one glance to confirm her fears.
Among the flower beds on the pyramid's northern terrace, two bodies lay hidden—two young Unsullied boys, their faces upturned, blood seeping from all seven orifices.
Six months ago, she had acquired 8,600 fully trained Unsullied, along with 5,000 trainees.
She had taken 5,000 with her to Yunkai, while 3,600 guarded the city walls. Of the 4,000 training in Astapor, half had been deployed to maintain order in the countryside, while the other 2,000 served as the city's garrison force.
Her Great Pyramid had been entrusted to these young, inexperienced guards.
Now, the enemy had infiltrated the pyramid—and her Dragon Horn had been stolen.
(End of Chapter)
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