In Game of thrones with Sci fi Military system

Winterfell

Arya Stark swung her wooden practice sword with all her might, sweat dripping from her brow. Her instructor, Syrio Forel, danced around her attacks with ease, his movements fluid and graceful.

"Again, Arya," Syrio said, his voice calm but firm. "The water dances, but it does not crash blindly."

Arya lunged again, but Syrio sidestepped and tapped her on the shoulder with his wooden blade. "Dead," he said with a smirk.

Arya groaned, dropping her sword. "I'll never get this right!"

"You will," Syrio assured her, handing her a waterskin. "But not today. Even the finest swords need rest."

As they sat on the steps of the training yard, Arya stared at the horizon, her mind wandering. "Syrio," she asked hesitantly, "are there… dragons alive in the world?"

Syrio raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask, little wolf?"

Arya hesitated. "I overheard something. About a dragon… named Ancalagon. Do you think that's real?"

Syrio's expression turned serious for a moment before he chuckled softly. "The world is vast, Arya Stark. Far larger than even you or I can imagine. If there is a dragon with such a name, perhaps it resides in lands beyond our knowing. But beware of names, little wolf. They hold power, and they call to destiny."

Arya frowned, unsure of what he meant, but before she could ask more, Syrio stood. "Come. Let us dance again."

Far across the sea, the Ironborn fleet lay anchored in the waters of Summar Bay. Euron Greyjoy stood on the deck of his flagship, Silence, his black leather coat billowing in the salty breeze. His piercing blue eyes scanned the horizon, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The messenger from Volantis had not returned, it has been more than 5 days, and Euron's patience was wearing thin.

"He's a day late," Euron muttered to himself. "Which means either Volantis refused… or the fool got himself killed."

He turned to his first mate, a scarred man named Gorath. "Ready the ships. If Volantis won't pay, we'll bleed the merchants of the Summer Sea dry."

Gorath grinned. "Aye, Captain."

Within hours, the Ironborn fleet was on the move, sails unfurled as they hunted for merchant ships to plunder. The silence of the bay was soon replaced by the sound of war cries and the clash of steel as Euron and his men wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting traders.

The Vale

Bronn stretched his arms, a smug grin on his face as he and Tyrion Lannister rode through the winding paths of the Vale. The trial by combat had been a narrow victory, but Bronn's skill with a sword had ensured Tyrion's survival.

"You know," Bronn said, glancing at Tyrion, "I hope your family pays well for all this trouble. Killing for you isn't cheap."

Tyrion smirked. "Don't worry, my good sellsword. Lannisters always pay their debts."

Bronn snorted. "You'd better. I'd hate to have to kill you next."

The two shared a laugh, the tension of the trial behind them as they made their way toward Lannister lands. Not expecting any ambushes ahead.

Pentos

In the bustling city of Pentos, preparations were underway for a monumental event. After ruling Pentos for nearly nine months, Alex and Daenerys were preparing to leave the city to address the free cities of Slaver's Bay.

The royal procession was a sight to behold. Fifty squads of elite soldiers stood ready, their polished armor gleaming in the sunlight. A small warship, captained by Leon and Mark, was prepared to lead the journey by sea, while the sky above was dominated by the presence of dragons.

Ancalagon, now towering at over 25 feet in length and 12 feet high, perched majestically on the castle's highest spire, watching the preparations with keen eyes. The two smaller dragons, Azuron and Pyra, circled the skies, their roars echoing through the city.

Inside the castle, Alex and Daenerys stood with Raven and Mannul, discussing the final details.

"Mannul, Raven," Alex said, his tone firm. "We leave Pentos in your hands. Ensure the city remains stable and prosperous."

Raven nodded. "You have my word, Your Grace."

Mannul added, "We'll keep everything running smoothly until your return."

Daenerys placed a hand on Alex's arm. "Are you sure about this? Offering peace to Slaver's Bay?"

Alex nodded. "If they accept, we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed, you were the one who asked to give them options Dani. Now's not the time to back out. But if they refuse…" His expression hardened. "Then they'll face the full might of our forces."

With that, the royal family mounted their ships flanked by soldiers and dragons. As the gates of Pentos opened to the docks, the people gathered to watch their rulers depart, cheering and waving banners.

The Voyage

Leon stood at the helm of the lead warship, the wind whipping through his hair as the vessel cut through the waves. Behind him, a fleet of smaller ships followed in formation, their sails bearing the sigils of Pentos and their new rulers. Among the fleet was the largest ship, a massive cargo vessel retrofitted for both transport and defense.

Onboard this ship were Alex, Daenerys, and their three dragons. Ancalagon perched majestically near the bow, his piercing eyes scanning the horizon, while the other 2 circled the skies above, keeping watch. The only reason ship was able to handle Ancalagon weight and size because he used credits to modify this cargo ship.

Mark joined Leon on the deck, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Volantis is just ahead," he said. "We'll regroup with Victor and his forces before continuing to Slaver's Bay."

Leon nodded. "Good. We'll need all the strength we can muster for what lies ahead."

After another day of sailing, the fleet finally approached Volantis. The city's docks were still littered with debris from the recent battle. Broken ships lay scattered in the water, their charred remains a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

As the fleet anchored near the docks, Victor, Jorah, and a contingent of soldiers stood waiting to greet them. Victor's burned arm was tightly bandaged, but his posture was firm, his expression proud.

Alex disembarked with Daenerys by his side, the dragons following closely. Victor stepped forward, saluting. "Your Grace," he said, his voice steady despite the obvious toll the battle had taken on him.

"You've done well, Victor," Alex said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Volantis is ours, and that's no small feat."

Jorah added, "The city is secure, and the people are adjusting to the new rule. But the scars of the war are still fresh."

"We'll stay the night," Alex said, glancing at the soldiers unloading supplies. "Tomorrow, we march for Astapor."

The fleet set sail the next morning, heading toward Slaver's Bay. As they traveled, they passed the distant remnants of Valyria, the once-great civilization now reduced to ruins.

From the deck of the cargo ship, Alex and Daenerys stood together, gazing at the crumbled spires and broken towers that jutted out of the mist.

"That was Valyria," Alex said, his voice tinged with both awe and sadness. "The heart of the greatest empire the world has ever known. Its knowledge, its power, all gone in a single day."

Daenerys's eyes were wide as she took in the sight. "It's… haunting," she whispered. "So much lost."

Alex nodded. "One day, when the wars are over, I'll bring you there. We'll see it up close, and perhaps we'll uncover some of its secrets."

Daenerys smiled faintly. "I'd like that."

After another day's journey, the fleet reached the outer waters of Astapor, the first city of Slaver's Bay. From a distance, the towering walls of the city came into view, their red stone gleaming in the sunlight. Above the massive gates, a giant bird was carved into the stone a symbol of the city's power and pride.

The ships anchored near the port, and Alex's army disembarked in orderly fashion. Fifty squads of elite soldiers marched toward the city walls, their movements precise and disciplined.

Alex rode at the head of the procession with Daenerys beside him, her silver hair catching the light. The dragons soared above, their roars echoing across the landscape, a clear message to anyone who might challenge them.

From atop the walls, the defenders of Astapor watched nervously, their weapons at the ready.

Alex halted his forces a safe distance from the city and turned to his Messenger. "Take this to their leaders," he said, handing over a sealed scroll. "We're here to talk peace. Let's see if they're willing to listen."

The Messenger nodded and rode toward the gates, his horse's hooves kicking up dust as he approached the massive structure.

The Messenger arrived at the gates, presenting the scroll to the guards. Inside, the message was clear:

"We come in peace, with an offer of terms that will benefit both our people. But make no mistake if you refuse, you will face the wrath of dragons and fire. The choice is yours."

As the guards took the message inside, Alex and his army waited. The sun hung high in the sky, the tension in the air thick as they awaited a response.