East of Sawtooth Reef, the third small bay.
Inside The Quiet's captain's cabin, a sea chart was spread on the table, its parchment edges slightly curled from repeated handling.
Aegon's finger hovered over a spot on the chart, where a dangerous cluster of reefs, marked by dense black dots, was labeled with the handwritten note: Sawtooth Reef.
Several Skull Squad sergeants, who had been temporarily summoned and were familiar with the eastern waters of the Stepstones, gathered around the table.
These leaders were individuals who had stood out during the recent "snowballing" process and had been temporarily appointed by Aegon to manage small teams.
When Aegon stated the target coordinates, the expressions of the Skull Squad sergeants simultaneously stiffened.
A clear look of astonishment flashed in their eyes, quickly turning into a complex expression mixed with vigilance and apprehension.
They exchanged glances, their lips mumbling, but they did not speak immediately.
Aegon's observation was exceptionally keen.
He raised his eyes, his violet gaze calmly sweeping over them: "What, is this place unclear? Or is there a problem?"
"Unclear?" A sergeant with a knife scar on his face, formerly a small pirate captain, subconsciously repeated, then realizing his tone was wrong, he quickly bowed, speaking with careful deliberation.
"Your Highness, it's not unclear... on the contrary, this place has been quite widely discussed among us pirates who make a living in these waters recently."
He licked his somewhat chapped lips and continued: "That place is already next to Driftmark. It used to be a godforsaken, desolate island bay that no one, not even ghosts, wanted to visit, with as many hidden reefs as shark teeth. Anyone who went there had bad luck."
"But recently... it's different."
"A group of Bluebeards from Tyrosh took over the place," another one-eyed sergeant added, lowering his voice slightly.
Aegon noticed the genuine apprehension on their faces, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly: "Explain clearly, what's the situation?"
Seeing Aegon's serious inquiry, the scarred sergeant dared not conceal anything and quickly said: "Your Highness, the place you mentioned, if I'm not mistaken, should be what we pirates call 'The Abyss of Torture'."
"The Abyss of Torture?" Aegon repeated the name.
"Yes, Your Highness." The one-eyed sergeant took over, his tone revealing an instinctive aversion to that sea area. "It's a desolate island shaped like a rift valley, with treacherous terrain and dense reefs, making it very difficult for ships to approach."
"The most eerie thing is the wind there. When it passes through the rock crevices, the sound it makes... tsk, it's like thousands of people screaming in agony at the same time, truly terrifying!"
"That's how it got its name. In the past, no one would ever set foot there unless they were looking for death or had absolutely no other choice."
He looked at Aegon's profile, lost in thought, and tentatively asked: "Your Highness... are you going there?"
Aegon looked up, his gaze sharp.
The scarred sergeant's heart tightened, and he quickly added: "The reason we know so much is because of those Tyroshi Bluebeards!"
"Driftmark is so large, and there are many islands nearby where they could dock, but they chose the most sinister and hardest-to-crack place, The Abyss of Torture, as their stronghold, and they hold it firmly."
"Recently, any pirates who didn't believe in evil, or wanted to sneak over to check the situation, and approached that sea area, basically never returned... they were ambushed and killed."
Tyroshi Bluebeards, occupying The Abyss of Torture.
Aegon's brows furrowed completely, his thoughts racing.
A coincidence?
No, he didn't believe it.
The target was so clear, the location so precise.
Yet, precisely when he came for the armor, it was occupied by another armed force.
Were they also after that armor? How did they get the information? Did Mogol leak it before? Or was there another channel?
Questions coiled around him like cold vines.
Whatever the possibility, it meant the situation was more complex than he had anticipated, and there could be more potential enemies.
"Troop strength?" Aegon's voice grew cold, leaving no room for doubt. "How far from here? What is their equipment like?"
The several leaders exchanged glances, and finally, the scarred sergeant answered with a forced smile: "Your Highness, we really can't say the exact number, those who got close never came back..."
"But judging by the large galley warships from Tyrosh that they have moored outside, to operate them effectively and be combat-ready, they would need at least seventy or eighty men."
"They seem to have three or four such ships, plus some smaller boats... at least five hundred men, if not more."
"As for the voyage, from our current position, heading east-northeast, with favorable winds, we could reach the edge of that sea area in less than a day."
The one-eyed sergeant added, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Your Highness... are you going to clear them out?"
Aegon did not answer immediately. His gaze returned to the sea chart, his finger pressing hard on the location of "The Abyss of Torture."
Then, he straightened up and began to issue orders decisively:
"Give the order, the fleet turns, target—The Abyss of Torture. Full speed ahead."
Upon hearing this, the faces of the Skull Squad leaders instantly stiffened, their nerves, which had slightly relaxed after reporting, tightened once more.
They liked the bounties Aegon promised and actually delivered, and they liked this "new way of life" of "killing for money," but liking it was one thing; they also needed to be alive to spend the money.
Those Tyroshi Bluebeards were ruthless newcomers in the eastern waters, acting savagely, and their equipment was far superior to that of these ragtag pirates. Moreover, their numbers didn't seem to be any less than their own.
Their four hundred-odd Skull Squad members had been gathered through a snowballing process, with complex backgrounds. Were they really going to actively attack the dangerous stronghold occupied by the Bluebeards?
The muscles on their faces twitched, and the retreat and hesitation in their eyes were clearly visible.
Aegon took in their expressions, his face devoid of any emotion, merely adding in a calm tone, as if stating the most ordinary thing:
"In this battle, you will lead the charge."
Lead the charge?!
The leaders' faces instantly grew even uglier; this was practically sending them to be targets to draw fire, to exhaust the Bluebeards' arrows and stamina!
Aegon seemed to see through their thoughts, withdrawing his gaze from the sea chart and beginning to refasten the Valyrian Steel gauntlet he had removed to view the map back onto his left arm.
The cold metal components interlocked, emitting a crisp "click."
He turned, his back to them, and while adjusting the armguard's strap, he dropped his final words in a calm, unwavering tone that seemed to carry immense weight:
"I will also personally go into battle."
He paused, and as the others looked on in shock and uncertainty, he slightly tilted his head, leaving them with words that made their souls tremble:
"Riding a dragon into battle."
Riding a dragon... into battle?!
Those words exploded like thunder in the narrow captain's cabin.
The Skull Squad sergeants trembled violently, abruptly looking up at Aegon's tall and stern back, as if they could see through the cabin wall to the overcast sky outside, and the suffocatingly huge dragon shadow beneath it.
Fear still lingered, but another, more fervent, more primal emotion, like ignited wildfire, surged from deep within their hearts.
It was a mix of awe for absolute power, shock at the legendary status of riding a dragon, and... a twisted, crazy hope of perhaps gaining immense benefits by following a true dragon.
"Now, return to your posts and prepare. Organize your men, check your weapons."
"When we arrive, I shouldn't have to tell you what to do a second time."
Aegon finished speaking, no longer paying attention to the pirate leaders behind him whose expressions varied and whose thoughts differed. He strode out of the captain's cabin, accompanied by his Bloodsworn guards, who had stood silently, hands on their sword hilts.
The heavy oak door closed behind him, sealing off the oppressive atmosphere and tumultuous emotions within.
On the deck, the sea breeze carried the salty chill of an impending storm.
Aegon walked to the bow, his blood-red cloak billowing straight behind him in the wind, like a battle standard.
He gazed eastward, into the depths of the sea shrouded by increasingly dense dark clouds.
Whatever lay ahead, whoever stood in his way.
He would get the armor.
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