Chapter 154: The Age of Gods

"Dragons need a mountain of meat. You deal with that, and toss in some extra ingredients while you’re at it."

Hillel pulled several tubes of blue serum from inside his coat. Permanent Compound V. He wondered what would happen if you fed this stuff to dragons. Some freak evolution, maybe.

Laser eyes.

Bodies like tanks.

Super speed.

Hell, they might even start talking.

After that, with all the meat they could eat, the three dragons grew so fast they left biology in the dirt.

In less than half a year they went from vicious hound size to over a hundred meters long. Their wings could blot out the mountains around Meereen.

They were on track to match Balerion the Black Dread, the biggest dragon Game of Thrones ever saw.

By year three they were fully grown.

Drogon, the largest, had scales the size of shields. One breath of dragonfire flattened miles of red-brick ruins in an instant.

The army on the other side of the Narrow Sea grew just as fast.

The people’s republic called and the millions of freed slaves answered with the kind of cohesion only people who just got their chains off can muster.

In a few short years huge military factories and shipyards went up along the western coast.

The Unsullied hit fifty thousand. Free folk infantry plus Dothraki cavalry made three hundred thousand. Major ports were packed with over a thousand ironwood warships.

"Dany."

Hillel stood on the watchtower at Meereen harbor. Ships stretched to the horizon.

"Cross the sea and knock over the feudal dynasty on the other side. The age of gods is finally here."

...

Westeros had been at war for three years.

Three years earlier King Robert Baratheon stabbed Cersei Lannister to death, stripped Joffrey of his title, cut off Jaime Lannister’s wrist, and planned to lure Tywin into a trap and kill him too.

Tywin got the warning first.

Varys, of course.

His little birds were everywhere. They could tell you how many times the king shit or jerked off that day.

The spider watched the world like a fanatic. He decided the politics across the Narrow Sea were the politics the world needed.

So he sent Tywin a secret letter.

The Red Keep ambush, Cersei dead, all of it leaked to the Westerlands.

Tywin Lannister showed why people called him an iron-blooded overlord. He raised sixty thousand fully armed Westerlands men and pointed them straight at the Red Fork.

Hear Me Roar.

Tywin wanted the whole realm to hear the Westerlands roar.

Robert could only smash his goblet in King’s Landing, squeeze back into his dark iron armor that barely fit anymore, grab his warhammer, and ride out for the first fight.

The North moved fast. Stark sent Robb south with twenty thousand men scraped together to back the king.

Renly in the Stormlands and Stannis on Dragonstone were Robert’s brothers. Facing a Lannister grab for the throne they called their banners and backed their king.

Even Dorne, always half-independent, sent ten thousand infantry over the Red Mountains to join the hunt for House Lannister.

Nearly half the armies of Westeros hit the field.

In the Riverlands plains the corpses stacked like hills and the blood ran like rivers.

The Red Fork ran red. The Westerlands army was tough and well-equipped, but under the hammer of every lord Tywin’s usual political tricks bought him nothing.

His resistance only made Robert angrier.

In front of both armies Robert had Jaime, already tortured past looking human, hog-tied and dragged onto a platform at the front line.

"Tywin! Look at your precious son!!"

Robert swung his hammer and laughed like a madman.

"Boy, you know how to do an execution by now!" He looked at Robb.

"Yes!"

Robb raised Ice and brought it down.

An excellent head flew into the air. Blood shot several meters high.

Jaime Lannister, top Kingsguard, Kingslayer, legendary knight, was done.

Tywin bit through his own teeth and swallowed it.

Robert then spent two years trying to drag Tywin out of the Westerlands and put him on the block.

Casterly Rock was supposed to be impregnable. Tens of thousands grinding against good ground made siege work a nightmare. It dragged on.

Year three, an inside man flipped. The last Westerlands line broke.

Tywin died in the throne room. The Westerlands were finished.

Robert’s rule was no prize either. Feeding every army, paying pensions, the treasury already drowning in debt turned into a ruin that couldn’t feed a mouse.

Loans from the Iron Bank, the Free Cities, even the Faith of the Seven doubled. Eight million golden dragons.

That was after wiping the three million he used to owe the Lannisters.

Without that write-off the number would have cracked ten million, highest debt on record.

Even if Robert taxed for the next hundred years he wasn’t paying that off soon.

"Dig! Hollow out every gold mine in the Westerlands!"

Robert screamed at the Master of Coin, eyes red, looking half mad.

The Master of Coin wiped sweat like it was going out of style.

You’re the one who ran up the tab and I’m supposed to make the numbers work?

Who balances an eight-million-dragon hole?

Lucky for him the Lannisters sat on more gold than they knew what to do with. Robert ordered the mines opened and every gold and silver decoration in the castle melted down. A few million more dragons got recast.

That gold flowed straight across the Narrow Sea.

Straight into Hillel’s pockets. He already owned Essos. The Iron Bank was his too. Robert’s fortune just changed hands.

At least it didn’t go bad.

Robert didn’t dare start another war. House Baratheon would have fallen into the pit for good.

Hillel scooped a handful of coins and let them run through his fingers.

"Money means nothing to me. But it can arm as many men as I want and even build specialist units that produce nothing in a medieval world."

A few more years went by.

Robert’s rule finally found its feet. Worry had burned most of the fat off him. The old handsome look even came back a little.

He just looked a lot older than the young king people remembered.

Blackwater Bay kicked up waves that hit the sky.

Everyone thought the fighting was over.

Then thunder rolled in from the horizon.

Warships cut the water, packed tight as storm clouds, filling the whole bay.

Huge V-flags snapped from the masts of more than a thousand ships.

Screee—!!!

Three dragon roars punched through the clouds ten thousand meters up.

The dragons, hundreds of meters long, turned King’s Landing dark. Their magma heads shoved out of the clouds. A normal breath cooked the air around them.

Hillel stood on a dragon’s head, hands behind his back.

"Hehehe! Bring out all of them!"

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