Stormlands.
In the southern rainforest, Mistwood City.
"Screee..."
A massive silver dragon roared while diving low, unleashing torrents of dragonfire from its jaws.
Outside the stone walls of the city, countless Dornish soldiers scattered, fleeing in panic as screams and wails filled the battlefield.
"Retreat quickly! Hide in the rainforest!"
"Scorpion bolts... aim at the dragon!"
The battlefield was cloaked in smoke and chaos, littered with shattered wagon wheels and scorched corpses strewn across the ground.
The scorpion ballista, an essential siege weapon, naturally became the dragon's primary target. Alongside them, catapults and battering rams were also destroyed.
Woo woo woo!
A triumphant horn blast echoed, heralding the dawn of victory.
From the southwestern road, a thousand-strong contingent of Stormland cavalry thundered forth like an unstoppable tide of steel, launching a fierce charge.
The roughly 4,000 Dornish soldiers, whose formation had already collapsed, became lambs awaiting slaughter.
One round of charging left them utterly broken, abandoning their helmets and shields as they fled.
"Open the gates! Counterattack!"
From the parapets of Mistwood City, a large white banner adorned with an owl emblem was raised. With a resounding war cry, a counteroffensive was launched.
The gates creaked open, and dozens of knights led the charge, with hundreds of infantry following closely behind.
Leading them was a tall, strong man with black hair and tanned skin, charging straight at the Dornish forces.
"Seasmoke, don't let them escape!"
Mounted on the dragon's back, Lannino shouted with gleaming eyes.
"Screee..."
Seasmoke let out a long and sharp cry, its agile form repeatedly diving as columns of dragonfire mercilessly ravaged the enemy.
"Hahaha, well done!"
Lannino burst into laughter, nearly choking on the wind as he opened his mouth too wide. After a fit of violent coughing, he quickly steadied his wobbling helmet.
Seasmoke glanced sideways at him, deliberately lowering its speed as it intercepted the fleeing Dornish soldiers heading toward the rainforest.
A thousand elite cavalry and a fully grown dragon.
The outcome of the war was already decided.
The Dornish soldiers fled desperately until noon, with the remnants hiding deep within the rainforest.
Even so, the battlefield was littered with over 2,000 corpses.
After the battle, soldiers cleared the field, and reinforcements marched into Mistwood City.
The ruling family of Mistwood City was House Metailyn.
Count Metailyn, the black-haired warrior who had led the valiant counterattack, warmly welcomed the reinforcements.
"Ser Lannino, thank you and your dragon, Seasmoke!"
Count Metailyn clasped Lannino's hand with great enthusiasm.
During the First Dornish War, House Metailyn had been poisoned by the Dornish, resulting in the deaths of all direct heirs.
Years had passed, but the hatred lingered.
Lannino, riding his dragon to burn large numbers of Dornish soldiers, had earned the admiration and respect of Count Metailyn.
"Count, let me first send a message to the main force, and then I'll gladly accept your hospitality."
Lannino, his face brimming with smiles, did not let the joy of victory cloud his judgment. He remained focused on the situation at hand.
Thanks to the teachings of Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, Lannino's personal capabilities were formidable.
Not daring to delay, Count Metailyn ordered servants to bring paper and ink while also preparing cattle, sheep, and fine wine to reward the troops.
Lannino, wearing a serious expression, wrote two letters: one to Lord Royce at Raven's Nest and another to Eymond at the rainforest encampment.
The successful rescue of Mistwood City created an opportunity to encircle the Dornish forces besieging Stonehelm.
With one command, victory in the war could be secured.
---
Time passed swiftly, and it was already noon.
The raven first reached the nearer encampment, delivering the letter to Eymond.
"Screee..."
The ugly Muddragon let out a sharp cry, flapping its broad brown wings as it circled the camp.
During times of peace, patrolling the camp was the primary duty of the notorious Sheep Thieves — who strictly monitored every single goat within the camp!
In the clearing, Eymond stood with a face full of irritation, holding two letters in his hand.
One was from King's Landing, describing how Aegon and Helaena were hosting a "matchmaking event."
Eymond frowned, displeased. "Mother is being ridiculous! Why is she marrying off my sister?"
In the entire Red Keep, it was his sister who treated him the best.
She hadn't even come of age, yet their mother was already forcing her into marriage. It was outrageous!
Glancing at the contents related to Aegon, Eymond curled his lips in disdain and casually tossed the letter aside.
If it were news about Rhaegar or Little Daeron, he might have paid attention.
But Aegon? Forget it.
That guy was only good at visiting brothels.
Opening the second letter, his face immediately twisted into a scowl.
Looking around to ensure no one was watching, Eymond sneered with contempt. "Lannino already won? So fast?"
He had hoped the situation would drag on longer, weakening Stonehelm's defenses.
The mere thought of the Swann family promoting a bastard to power made him sick to his stomach.
With a swift motion, he tore the letter into shreds and sneered disdainfully. "Someone who abandons their own kin doesn't deserve my help."
He scattered the pieces into the wind and called out to the idle Sheep Thieves, commanding them to ride their dragons in search of the hiding Dornish in the rainforest.
---
Dorne.
Outside Sunspear, the Water Gardens.
News of the defeat continued to pour in, making even the luxurious, ornately decorated garden seem bleak.
Inside a white stone pavilion, Qoren leaned lazily against a pillar, chest bared as he pondered.
Before his eyes lay the garden's center.
A meandering stream flowed gently, surrounded by artificial hills and lush tropical vegetation, including coconut and palm trees native to the region.
Soldiers clad in yellow-brown armor stood in formation, guarding every corner of the garden.
"Hee hee..."
A little girl with dark hair and deep-toned skin splashed water by the stream, mischievously sending droplets toward the maidservants.
Seeming to have tired herself out, the girl wiped the sweat from her forehead and dashed toward the pavilion.
Kaelor furrowed his brows slightly, lost in deep thought.
"Your Highness, the situation in the Stormlands is deteriorating. Count Yronwood has repeatedly requested reinforcements," reported a tall young knight.
Kaelor turned at the sound, gazing at the speaker.
The man had short golden-blond hair, violet eyes, and a towering figure clad in silver armor. A massive greatsword hung heavily on his back.
His armor bore the sigil of his noble house—"a sword crossed with a falling star."
This was the sigil of House Dayne, an ancient and formidable noble lineage from Dorne, renowned for its martial prowess.
House Dayne possessed a legendary greatsword known as Dawn.
It was said that the blade was forged from the heart of a fallen star, rivaling the power of Valyrian steel.
The title Sword of the Morning was bestowed only upon the knight deemed worthy of wielding Dawn.
The towering young man before him was this generation's Sword of the Morning, Ser Daevos Dayne.
Kaelor glanced at the greatsword Dawn, his expression tinged with admiration. "Ignore it. Wars aren't won by sheer numbers alone but through ravens and intelligence."
Understanding the horrors of war, he had attempted to replicate the Kingsguard system, rallying the knights of Dorne to form an elite guard.
Unfortunately, his efforts fell short.
In the end, only the exceptionally skilled Daevos Dayne remained as his personal bodyguard.
Daevos's violet eyes darkened with concern. "Your Highness, the defenses of Stonehelm are weak. It should have fallen by now."
The young knight suspected Count Yronwood of incompetence—or worse, sabotage.
Kaelor chuckled mysteriously. "You're underestimating Lord Oriphon."
Then, lowering his voice, he added, "I'll tell you the truth—Stonehelm hasn't fallen because I ordered it that way."
"Why?"
Daevos was taken aback, full of doubt.
The young lacked the cunning of the old.
Kaelor crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "The Targaryens have dragons. Even if we seize Stonehelm in one swift strike, we'll all just end up burned alive in the end."
"Instead of being trapped inside the castle, we are better off roaming the rainforest, using the terrain to our advantage in guerrilla warfare."
Daevos frowned. "Then when will we claim victory?"
Relying solely on skirmishes would only drain their forces.
Kaelor shook his head, his gaze deep and unreadable. "Conquering a single castle means nothing. What I want is for their forces to fracture from within—that's when we strike."
He knew that the Stormlands' coalition was far from united.
After a pause, he asked, "Any word from Braavos?"
Daevos immediately answered, "The Sealord has sent three supply ships—full of iron weapons and crossbow bolts."
Kaelor smacked his lips in admiration. "Tsk, tsk. Those Free Cities sure are wealthy."
But then, a thought crossed his mind—if Braavos was supplying weapons to Dorne, they were likely also arming the Three Daughters.
How chaotic could the three Free Cities become?
Would they be able to keep Rhaegar, Daemon, and Rhaenys Targaryen tied up?
If not, he'd have Braavosi mercenaries raid Pentos or Westerosi ports.
The bigger the mess, the better.
If those three adult dragonlords remained occupied, the Targaryen threat to Dorne would be greatly diminished.
Daevos still seemed puzzled and pressed on, "Your Highness, what about Mistwood?"
"Don't worry. You'll see soon enough," Kaelor replied with a cold smile. "To deal with that Velaryon, I made special arrangements in Pentos."
"Father!"
At that moment, Mari Sandora came running up, throwing herself into her father's arms.
"What is it, my little princess?"
Kaelor's expression immediately softened, and he playfully nudged his daughter's cheek with his chin.
Giggling, Mari Sandora dodged his affection and made her request. "Father, I want a dragon!"
"Cough, cough..."
Kaelor nearly choked, coughing uncontrollably.
A dragon?
His sweet daughter had some audacity!
He would love to have a dragon himself, but where could he possibly find one?
Kaelor cleared his throat to cover his awkwardness and gently instructed, "Dragons belong to the Targaryens. The Martells have only their spears and their wits."
"Then catch me a Targaryen!"
Mari Sandora's eyes sparkled, as if making a wish upon a falling star.
Kaelor sighed helplessly, setting his daughter down. That request was even harder to fulfill.
After playing around with his mischievous daughter for a bit, he patted her on the back and sent her on her way.
Then, turning back to the ever-stoic Daevos, Kaelor's expression hardened once more. "Notify Lord Uller—the assault on the Buzzard's Roost may begin."
To win the war, the Battle of Weeping Town alone wasn't enough.
The Prince's Pass and the Boneway were critical.
The Reach had always been prosperous, and Kaelor had long set his sights on it.
"As you command, Your Highness," Daevos responded, before leaving to have the maesters send the ravens.
---
Stormlands – That Night
To celebrate their reinforcements, Count Mettarin hosted a victory feast in Mistwood.
Aside from the city guards stationed at the gates, the castle was filled with revelry.
"Screeeech..."
Seasmoke lay in the rear garden, lazily enjoying a goat brought by its attendants.
Accompanying it was Cole, who had come searching for his elusive lover.
Lannino had slipped away from the feast midway, disappearing without a trace.
Cole circled the silver-scaled Seasmoke, looking for Lannino, but found no sign of him.
"That fool... where did he run off to now?"
Cole let out a long sigh, frustrated by his lover's constant evasiveness.
Ever since the battlefield shifted from the disputed lands to Stormlands, Lannino had been nowhere to be found all day. Anyone unaware of the situation might have thought he had been abandoned.
Casually grabbing a passing attendant, he asked, "Have you seen Sir Lannino?"
The attendant trembled and pointed in a direction.
Without hesitation, Cole set off in that direction to search.
He arrived at an artificial lake, surrounded by a lawn and several ornamental rock formations.
From a distance, he heard a familiar singing voice.
"Bear, bear, bear!
All covered in black and brown fur..."
It was a popular ballad enjoyed by both nobles and commoners—The Bear and the Maiden Fair.
Cole's face lit up. He recognized Lannino's voice immediately.
He took a few more steps before stopping again.
Because he heard another familiar voice.
Besides Lannino, there was another man singing along with him.
Cole's gaze flickered, and he quietly approached, parting the flowers and grass to peer behind the rock formations.
What he saw stunned him.
Lannino's face was flushed red from drinking, his upper body bare, a wine bottle in his hand.
A handsome blond man, also shirtless, had his arms tightly wrapped around Lannino's waist.
The two appeared intimately close, like longtime friends.
Cole's face darkened instantly, turning as black as the bottom of a pot.
He knew that blond man.
At that moment, Lannino, completely drunk, joyfully shouted, "Joffrey, let's celebrate your return to my side!"
The blond man, fair-skinned, began to let his hands roam freely.
Lannino, enjoying the touch, continued to sing with delight:
"Bear! Bear!
Everyone says, come and meet the beauty!"
(End of Chapter)