After seizing the mining district, Lo Quen ordered Qyburn to dispatch ships to transport pig iron and iron ore.
The Grey Mountain range held astonishing reserves of iron. The Lysenes had mined the area for years, yet the veins were far from depleted.
He soon received Qyburn's report on the ore. According to it, the Grey Mountain iron was of exceptional quality, with a high iron content. Even though the Lysene slting techniques were inferior to those of Tyrosh, their pig iron still sold briskly across many nations.
Lo Quen couldn't help but sigh at how wasteful the Lysenes had been with such a valuable resource.
He instructed Qyburn to build a blast furnace workshop near Crown Town, so that iron ore could be transported directly from the Grey Mountain mines and slted into pig iron on-site.
Lo Quen then left a hundred soldiers and the captured slave troops to garrison the mining area, while he led the rest of his n back along the road to the Outpost Tower.
The rugged terrain of the Grey Mountains made it impossible to enter the mines without passing through the valley southeast of the tower. With Lo Quen's main army stationed there, it would be nearly impossible for enemies to approach the mines unnoticed.
Over the next several days, ravens from izo arrived one after another, carrying intelligence that Lys and Myr were preparing to form an alliance.
The news didn't surprise Lo Quen. The principle of "lips and teeth"—that the fall of one would endanger the other—was surely clear to both Lys and Myr.
Still, their slave soldiers were too weak to fight effectively. They would inevitably hire large numbers of rcenary Companies.
From izo's letters, Lo Quen learned that several well-known Companies active around the Golden Fields, Velvet Hills, and Pentos Flatlands were now marching toward the Disputed Lands.
As he read the list, a cold smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Lys and Myr were clearly panicking.
But gathering and moving rcenary Companies took ti—and so might even refuse the contract over pay disputes. That delay was precisely the advantage Lo Quen had used to strike first, taking the outpost and the mines.
His gaze swept over the list again. Though he recognized most of the nas, one stood out by its absence—the Golden Company.
The Golden Company was the most famous, the largest, and the most expensive of all the rcenary Companies in the Nine Free Cities. Lys and Myr surely hadn't avoided hiring them because of cost.
There was only one plausible reason: Illyrio and Varys. They wouldn't risk wasting one of their trump cards in a war against Lo Quen.
As he pondered, Chai Yiq approached from outside the tower, worry clouding her face. "Your Grace, over the past days, the Lysene have gathered slave soldiers at their estates southeast of the outpost tower. It seems they an to keep us from entering their heartland."
Lo Quen chuckled. "Who said we were going to strike their heartland? True, those estates are rich, and taking them would yield plenty of supplies. But their main sellsword Companies are marching toward the Disputed Lands. If we raid those estates now, we'd only end up surrounded."
Chai Yiq frowned. "Then what should we do?"
Lo Quen's smile turned cold. "Those fools in Lys sent nearly all their slave soldiers to the Disputed Lands. I wonder where they got the confidence that I wouldn't attack their main city."
Chai Yiq and Jaelena beside her both gasped. "Your Grace—you an to attack Lys itself?!"
Lo Quen grinned. "Their defenses are thin. This is the perfect chance to strike. If we take Lys, even returning the outpost and the mines afterward would still count as a victory. I've already written to Roro—he'll have his n bring the fleet. We'll board along the southern coast of the mining district, cross the sea, and attack Lys."
...
Three nights later, Lo Quen and Jaelena led eight thousand elite soldiers, moving under the cover of darkness. They slipped silently out of the outpost tower and marched swiftly south.
Chai Yiq remained behind with five hundred troops, setting up decoys and false formations to make it seem as though the main army was still in camp.
Lo Quen instructed her that if large numbers of sellswords approached, she was to retreat west into the depths of the Forest of the Three Daughters.
After several days of stealthy marching, the army reached an abandoned ferry as planned.
Under the moonlight, nearly a hundred warships lay quietly anchored in the frigid bay. Cloaked in the sa heavy darkness, more than eight thousand soldiers boarded swiftly and without a word.
Sails swelled, ropes tightened, and the fleet cut through the black waves toward the distant Lys Archipelago.
Lys—the "City of Perfu and Desire," built atop jagged reefs and scattered islands—erged from the night, revealing her alluring beauty beneath the moonlit sky.
The monsoon winds and ocean currents favored Lo Quen's fleet.
After a single day and night at sea, as dusk fell again, the outlines of the Lys Archipelago appeared at the horizon.
Moonlight spilled across the islands, glinting off great dod roofs covered in dark red tiles. Sharper spires rose above them, glimring with a faint bronze hue.
Many of the houses stood right by the sea, their harbors wide open, with no walls or fortifications in sight.
From the deck of his flagship, Lo Quen could see through open windows—lamplight flickering, silhouettes moving within.
"Land at the harbor! Eliminate all ard resistance on the island!"
Lo Quen's voice was cold and sharp.
Nearly a hundred warships surged forward, their oars churning up the waves as they accelerated through the dark waters. The terrified slave guards at the harbor watched helplessly as the fleet closed in.
The ramps crashed down, and fully ard soldiers poured onto the piers and beaches.
The battle ended far sooner than expected.
The slave guards of Lys's outer island were even weaker than those who had defended the outpost and the mines. Most had received only the barest semblance of training, were poorly equipped, and lacked the will to fight.
When they saw the enemy charging—n as fierce as wolves, armored in gleaming steel—their courage shattered instantly.
Screams of terror replaced battle cries. Rusted weapons clattered to the ground. The soldiers scattered like frightened sheep, cursing their own legs for not carrying them faster.
Lo Quen gave a cold order to capture the survivors.
Before long, groups of slave soldiers were lying face down on the cold, damp ground, hands over their heads, trembling uncontrollably.
Lo Quen seized one pale-faced prisoner and barked, "Where is the Lys Magister's Palace?"
The captive stamred, trembling as he pointed toward the sea. "M-My Lord... this is only the outer island... the real... the real Lys main city... it's further in... the Magister's Council... that's where it is..."
Lo Quen imdiately ordered the man taken aboard the lead ship.
The fleet set sail once more, guided by the captive through the reefs and channels toward the main island.
As the island's shape erged beneath the moonlight, Lo Quen finally saw the full splendor of the city.
It rose with the island's natural slope—its center towering high, the outskirts spreading low along the shore. Atop the tallest hill stood a grand palace, its vast do supported by countless thick white stone pillars, gazing silently down upon the city and the sea below.
That was the heart of Lys's power—the Magister's Council.
Lo Quen imdiately ordered his soldiers to storm the main island's harbor.
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