The Disputed Lands.
Rumble—
Thousands of towering warhorses galloped, their riders heavily armored. At the head of the column fluttered several dragon-signed, eagle-shaped, trident banners.
Aemond, clad in a heavy iron suit, struggled to keep up, tugging at the reins. The elite of the Second Sons were out in force, a magnificent display of power. And they were pursuing hundreds of fleeing Tyroshi mercenaries. The chaotic rush of these mounts stood in stark contrast to the steel-like torrent of the Second Sons behind them. Had the Second Sons not been deliberately driving them off, exhausting their energy, they would have already ended the battle with a relentless charge.
"Faster, faster!"
Aemond's gaze shifted behind his visor. His legs ached from the strain of gripping the horse's belly, yet he fought to keep pace. He was impatient. He was almost there. He would achieve great success by defeating these remnants of the Three Daughter's, earning him respect and recognition.
But his stallion's speed was steadily slowing, and his body, panting furiously, made him realize once again his own helplessness.
Suddenly, the Tyroshi mercenaries ahead reined in their horses.
"Halt!"
Runeguard Robb raised his right hand, commanding the Second Sons to disperse and surround them.
"What's going on up ahead?" Aemond managed to speak, sweat pouring down his forehead.
"Look," Robb lifted his visor, his expression grave.
A small force of cavalry and a large number of infantry blocked the Tyroshi mercenaries' escape route, flanking the Second Sons from both sides. Aemond looked over and saw a turquoise seahorse banner.
"It's the Velaryons."
What was so special? The Targaryens and Velaryons were staunch allies.
"Take a closer look at where we are," Robb frowned.
Aemond paused, glancing around. It wasn't the vast farmlands of Myrland, nor was there the Old Valyrian Road leading directly to Lake-town. In its place lay the pristine plains of the Disputed Lands, barren land overgrown with weeds.
"Who's your commander, front troops?"
A tall figure with silver hair and silver armor emerged from the Velaryon army. Without his helmet, his face bore a striking resemblance to Corlys, the Sea Snake.
"The Sea Snake's brother," Aemond recognized him instantly.
Robb then rode forward, his voice booming: "Lord Wymond, we are under the orders of Prince Aemon to eliminate these remnants of the Three Queens."
"Red Robb Rivers?" Wymond's eyes narrowed, revealing a hint of undisguised contempt. The nobles of Westeros harbor prejudice against bastards, even those holding high positions. Wymond, a member of House Velaryon, was even more prejudiced.
"Lord Wymond, we will eliminate the remnants of the Three Daughter's. Please do not interfere," Robb stated. His keen observation caught Wymond's left arm, slung across his chest beneath his silver armor. Based on previous intelligence, the enemy had indeed suffered heavy casualties from an attack by pirates from the Three Women. With a common enemy, nothing unexpected would happen.
"Red Robert, you're treading on House Velaryon's territory!" Wymond's expression suddenly changed. "I'll deal with the remnants of the Three Women. Are you trespassing on Tyrosh territory without permission? Are you looking to provoke a war?"
Swish, swish, swish!
As soon as he finished speaking, the Second Sons drew their weapons in unison, glaring coldly at the Velaryon army. In the disputed lands, no one dared to challenge the Second Sons. Neither Wymond nor the two thousand soldiers behind him dared to challenge them. With a wave of his hand, the troops behind him took up their positions. Shield bearers formed their lines, while spearmen formed barricades. In an instant, the two sides were on the verge of a fight.
"Calm down!"
Robb raised his hand, suppressing the restless Second Sons. Wymond's provocation was clearly confident. He could lead his army to crush this Velaryon army, but that would create trouble for His Royal Highness.
Don't forget.
The Sea Snake is the helmsman of House Velaryon and Lady Laena's father.
Robb's eyes flickered as he again attempted to mediate.
"Back off, Red Robb!" Wymond declared arrogantly. "Aemon Targaryen has occupied a large portion of the Disputed Lands. From now on, this belongs to the Velaryons. No outsiders are allowed to tread freely."
"Did you know this is only a few dozen miles from Lake-town?" Robb sneered.
Lake-town was built in the center of the Disputed Lands, while Tyrosh was on an island thousands of miles away. If this counted as territorial expansion, then the boundary marker was no more than a stray dog's pee on the side of the road.
"Years ago, Aemon Targaryen could build a town a few dozen miles away, and today Velaryon agrees," Wymond said unconcernedly.
Upon hearing this, Robb's expression changed unpredictably, and he resisted the urge to charge and kill the enemy with a single shot. If he didn't want to destroy the harmonious relationship between the royal family and the Velaryon family, he would never tolerate Wymond, the second son of the family, giving him orders.
Aemond watched the whole thing, looking around anxiously. Wymond was really damned, stopping him from making a contribution.
At this time, Robb looked at him, as if thinking about something. He was not sure if there was a sea snake behind Wymond, and it would be better to have someone of the right identity to represent the royal family. Aemond was stunned when he saw this, and immediately guessed what the other party was thinking.
He was a little unsure whether he could represent the royal family and his cousin Aemon.
Robb only took a glance and looked away, and exchanged glances with the banner-bearers on both sides. Prince Aemond was still a child, and there was no need to expect a child to participate in the war. He wanted to charge directly and let the Sea Snake and His Royal Highness handle the rest.
"Wait a moment," Aemond said quickly, stepping forward with his horse's belly between his legs.
"Your Highness?" Robb looked puzzled.
"Let me try." Aemond took a deep breath, determined not to back down.
He was a Targaryen, his father the King on the Iron Throne. The fact that his brothers and sisters all had dragons already made him look weak. If he retreated in disgrace this time, he would look down on himself.
"Oh, Prince Aemond?" Wymond tilted his head, somewhat surprised.
"It's me!" Aemond said nervously, forcing himself to remain calm. "I don't care what orders you've received, or whether Velaryon is expanding into new territory."
"Now, your army retreats, and hand over the remnants of the Three Queens!" He shouted loudly, as if to embolden himself.
Robb's expression remained unchanged, and he nodded silently inwardly. The goal was clear: to eliminate the remnants of the Three Queens. The rest of the mess was beyond the reach of those outside the power table.
Wymond's face darkened at this, and he said gravely, "What if I don't retreat?"
"Then think carefully: how many rounds can you and your army withstand from the Second Sons?" Aemond's words grew more and more animated, his face taunting him, "One, or two?"
So exciting!
No wonder his father constantly scolded his cousin for recklessly expanding his army, yet he never tired of it.
Even without dragons, he remained unyielding.
Swish!
Wymond drew his sword in an instant, angrily barking, "You threaten me? Do you think the storms and waves I've experienced are a joke?"
Aemond shuddered, a wave of humiliation washing over him. He quickly drew the dagger from his waist and roared, "I'm no pushover!"
For a moment, the situation became a stalemate. Wymond's face remained expressionless, but in reality, he was unable to dismount. He had assumed a bastard could be dismissed with a simple threat, but Aemond was just a young boy, and would be even more vulnerable in the face of war. He hadn't expected the other party's unwavering attitude, which only forced him into a corner.
He quietly turned his back on the two thousand scattered troops behind him, his heart sinking even more. He was sure he couldn't win in a fight.
On the other side, Aemond gritted his teeth, not letting the fear that made his body tremble reveal itself to others. At least in front of others, he was brave.
"Prince." Robb placed a hand on Aemond's shoulder, silently offering encouragement.
Velaryon had gone too far, and he was determined to launch a charge.
"Ser..." Aemond forced a smile.
Boom—
Suddenly, a mighty gust of wind swept across the plain, its blue wings casting a shadow across the landscape. Everyone looked up.
"Hurry!"
A magnificent pale blue dragon let out a deafening roar, swooping down.
"Dragon... Dragon flame!"
The girl's trembling voice was clear and audible, like the whispers of death. Dreamfyre flapped its wings, gliding over the remnants of the Three Women's Kingdom, opening its maw and spewing searing dragon flame. The orange-yellow flame, tinged with blue, spread out in an inverted triangle, cascading across the battlefield, stirring up a cascade of aftershocks.
"Ah!"
"Help!"
The Tyroshi mercenaries shuddered in terror, whipping their whips frantically to no avail as they watched the dragon flame descend.
Boom!
Dragon flames swept past, their screams swirling through the air in thick smoke.
"Dragon Rider!"
The gust of wind slapped Wymond's face, leaving him in a state of disbelief and shock. When had the royal family gained another dragon rider, and tamed such a powerful dragon?
"Descent, Dreamfyre!" the voice from the dragon's back echoed again.
Dreamfyre circled in a blazing cloud of gunpowder, gracefully landing in the middle of the two armies. A single wave of dragonfire inflicted heavy casualties on the Tyroshi mercenaries, sending them into chaos.
Bang!
Helena carefully dismounted the dragon, appearing before everyone.
"Sister!" Aemond exclaimed joyfully.
Helena's face was pale, her green dress and black cape slightly disheveled, and her deerskin boots felt slightly weak. It was her first time riding a dragon into battle, and the wailing beside her was piercing, setting her heart racing.
"Sister, why are you here?" Aemond dismounted, a smile spreading across his face.
It wasn't just the dragon's arrival, but also Helena's support. He felt cared for.
"The battle is over, let's go back," Helena pursed her lips, truly unwilling to stay here any longer.
"Okay!" Aemond saw her pale face and immediately felt worried.
Across the way, Wymond had sheathed his sword and was retreating rapidly with his army. A Targaryen prince might not hold much weight, but a dragon rider was not to be underestimated.
Run!
...
Tyrosh.
"Shhhh!"
Vermithor roared like thunder, prostrating himself in the forecourt of Driftwood, eyes closed lazily as he dozed.
Meanwhile, in the great hall of Driftwood, a father-in-law and son-in-law sat facing each other.
"Aegon burned Greyjoy to death, a small feat," Aemon said with a smile.
"Of the old sea monster's five sons, only the youngest survived, brought with him. The Seven Gods blessed us, and we weren't wiped out."
Corlys sat on the Driftwood throne with a commanding presence, showing no mercy to the invading Ironborn.
Aemon then changed the subject sharply, "Wymond went to Lake-town to establish his territory. Was it your idea, or did he do it on his own?" He demanded bluntly.
Upon receiving the news, he flew to Tyrosh and confronted the newly disembarked Sea Snake.
Corlys's eyes gleamed. "Your territory is already large enough; I'm just copying it."
"That's what you mean." Aemon stood up and walked straight up the steps to the Driftwood Throne. "Old man, you're still making things difficult for me after marrying your daughter."
Corlys frowned and said calmly, "Tyrosh already has ownership of the Disputed Lands. I didn't interfere with you when you opened up Myrland."
"Bullshit!" Aemon snapped.
Pointing at the Sea Snake's nose, he said bluntly, "When I opened up Myrland, you were busy suppressing civil unrest."
I was opening up territory, but the Disputed Lands were in ruins, untouched and unpopular.
Now that the three Free Cities are on track, there should be a set of rules for the distribution of the Disputed Lands.
How could a Sea Snake do this? Simply erect a boundary marker outside Lake-town. You're more convenient than a dog peeing on the ground.
"Watch your words, boy." Corlys's face darkened at the scolding.
Turning against him just because you married his daughter? How shameless!
"If you want me to be nice, don't do such a shameful thing," Aemon said disdainfully.
If it weren't for Laena, he wouldn't even bother coming to Tyrosh.
You Sea Snake, you own a Free City and become Lord Sealord. Laena married him, and Laenor married a Baratheon of Storm's End.
Used to having everything go your way, he's starting to push his luck again.
"Ha, what do you want?" Corlys said with a wry smile.
"Tell Wymond to retreat to the Tyroshi coast. I won't interfere with your normal expansion. If you continue to act in such a despicable way," Aemon paused, warning, "I won't come to Tyrosh again."
If that happens, don't blame the ruthless dragonfire of Vermithor.
His Highness will say,
"I thought it was a swarm of ants."
"I didn't see the banner clearly."
"Talk to my dragon."
We're all trying our best to survive...
After a while, Aemon left Driftwood and rode Vermithor back to Myr.
Corlys stood on the tower, his expression uncertain as he watched the man and dragon walk away.
Bang!
He grew angrier and angrier, slamming his fist against the plaster fence. Ever since the Battle of the Long Lake, this brat had become increasingly difficult to provoke.
"Father." Laenor called out tentatively from behind.
"What's going on?" Corlys brushed the dust off his palms, turned around, and asked calmly.
Seeing this, Laenor felt relieved and smiled, "The shipping routes are completely blocked. The Dornish ships have all retreated, leaving only a few small fry."
"Yes, I see," Corlys replied calmly. The matter had already been decided by the Royal Council. The resurgence of the Three Women's remnants was a deliberate test. After all, the Iron Throne's continued growth and expansion threatened the surrounding powers. No one wanted to see the House of Dragonlords revive and restore the glory of Old Valyria.
"What about the Dornish trade?" Laenor was unsure.
Corlys shook his head. "Everything remains the same."
Of the powers wary of the Iron Throne, Dorne might not be the strongest, but it was the most vulnerable. Conquering Dorne was politically correct for the Targaryens. The ultimate fate of the Iron Throne and Dorne was already predetermined. It was simply that the Targaryens had first trained a group of dragon riders and took the initiative to conquer Dorne. It was Prince Qoren who couldn't help but strike first, hoping for a chance of survival. Judging from the current situation, Prince Qoren was still wary and didn't dare to act openly. But that day was probably not far off.
...
It was almost dark when Aemon returned to Myr.
Aegon had won the battle and had already returned to brag to his brothers and sisters. Aemon didn't waste any words, telling them to pack their bags and return to Westeros tomorrow.
To the Vale, for a vacation!
"Yeah!!"
Aemond cheered.
---------------
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