River Valley, North.
Vast hillsides of varying heights, densely covered with lush grass, nestled against verdant mountains and clear waters.
"Hoo, hoo, hoo..."
Aemond panted, his legs running. Yes, the dragon tamer had returned. He was chasing a completely unseen wild brown dragon, now roaming the river valley.
"Oh, I'll succeed."
Aemond's throat was dry, and he swallowed hard to keep going. That wild dragon was enormous! If he could tame it, no one would dare underestimate him.
Plop!
Exhausted from running for so long, he stumbled and fell flat on his face.
"Hiss, it hurts!"
Aemond cried, tears welling up in pain. He grumbled on the ground for a moment, then, with his last remaining strength, climbed to his feet.
Looking up, he saw a gurgling stream flowing between the rocks.
"Great!"
Aemond's eyes lit up, and he quickly rushed to the stream, scooping up water with both hands to drink. After a few gulps, he still felt unsatisfied and lay on the ground, blowing into his mouth. Hunger was a thing, and a drink of water would do the trick.
"Haha, haven't you heard that there's always a way out?"
Aemond, having drunk his fill, laughed heartily and continued on his way to catch up.
Bang! Bang! ...
After running for a while, Aemond's face paled. He clutched his stomach, found a large rock, squatted down, and took off his pants.
Haven't you heard that fortune and misfortune are interdependent?
On an empty stomach and exhausted, he drank until he was full, then continued his intense run. Not only was the water in his stomach rumbling, but the unbearable diarrhea was enough to make him feel sick.
"Ah, it hurts!"
Cold sweat broke out on Aemond's forehead, and he tried to poop, but couldn't. The brat had suffered the consequences of his lack of common sense once, but he still hadn't changed his ways. He regretted not listening to his cousin and refining himself with some reading first.
Puff! Puff! Puff...
Aemond transformed into a jet fighter, severely dehydrated.
"Hurry up, get into the mountains and set the trap."
Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps echoed from a distance. Aemond looked up sharply, a wave of fear welling up in his heart.
Why!
Why did he have to encounter someone when he was at his most vulnerable?
He quickly hid behind a large rock while no one could see him.
Death is a small matter, but the death of the community is a bigger one.
Even more despairing, the footsteps stopped mid-sentence.
"Rest for a while, drink some water before you go."
A group of hunters, young and old, stood by the stream and washed their faces.
"Squeak!" ...
Aemond couldn't help but exclaim.
"Huh, what's that noise?" The old hunter with messy black hair had sharp ears and straightened up, feeling around.
Aemond: "Woo-woo-woo."
"Be careful, I'll go check." The old hunter stopped the curious young man and quickly found his way to the large rock.
"Damn, damn..."
The crisp sound of the hard soles of his shoes on the stones was like the sound of gongs and drums lingering in his ears.
"Who's there?" The old hunter noticed something unusual and drew his wooden bow from his back.
Boom, boom, boom!
Aemond's heart pounded, nearly succumbing to the anxiety.
"It's me!" Just as the old hunter approached the boulder, Aemond, quick as ever, pulled up his trousers and emerged from behind it.
"I'm looking for something. Who are you, residents of the Vale?" Aemond forced himself to remain calm, attempting to seduce them.
"Are you..." the old hunter, upon taking in the man's appearance and attire, asked tentatively, "Are you the Targaryen Highness?"
"No!" Aemond, as if irritated, denied it hastily.
Today had been humiliating enough; he must not be recognized.
The old hunter sheathed his wooden bow and said obediently, "Yes, you are not the Targaryen Highness."
Aemond: "...you're kidding."
Look at his silver hair, purple eyes, and the expensive fabrics of his clothes.
The Vale is home to a few bastards and Valyrians who migrated from across the sea. But there's no such thing as someone who possesses both noble aura and considerable wealth.
"How do you know so much?" Aemond dropped his pretense and laid it bare.
"We are residents of the Vale, and we all respect the Lord of the Vale," the old hunter said respectfully.
"Prince of the Vale" is a title used in the Seven Kingdoms, and the people of the Vale all call him "Lord of the Vale." That meant Aemon, the man he was looking for.
"So that's how it is," Aemond scratched his head. He hadn't expected the residents of the Vale to be so knowledgeable.
The old hunter said gratefully, "It's all thanks to the generosity and kindness of the Lord of the Vale."
Dale was now the heart of the Vale, possessing the best and richest resources. With fewer than 300,000 permanent residents, it shared the Vale's incredibly fertile land. Between the fishing of the Long Lake, the farming of the Vale of Arryn, and the maritime trade of Gulltown, most residents lived a relatively prosperous life. As material well-being improves, spiritual needs rise.
Dale had specialized schools and theaters, both directly and indirectly teaching common knowledge across the Seven Kingdoms. Recognizing a Targaryen as a royal was just the beginning. He was far from the impoverished, ignorant people enslaved by the nobles.
"Your Highness, how can I help you?" The old hunter glanced around, then at the disheveled Aemond, and offered to help.
"No..." Aemond was about to refuse, but a strange feeling in his stomach silenced him.
Gurgle~~
The old hunter heard his stomach growl and quickly pulled a piece of cut black bread from his pocket and offered it to Aemond. Aemond took a look and was a little disgusted by the texture of the black bread. However, seeing that it was free of bran and sawdust, he confirmed that the residents of the valley had a good quality of life. He took the black bread and ate it in big mouthfuls.
Not only did it taste good, but the hardness was authentic.
"Have some water," the old hunter hurriedly handed over the water bag.
"No!" Aemond's face paled even more when he heard it was water. He ate it up with a slurp.
Aemond wiped his mouth and promised, "I will repay you." Then he told the man about chasing the wild dragon and asked if he had seen it.
"It's the Sheep Thief!"
The old hunter's face paled at the mention of the dragon. The other young men approached, their guard immediately on.
"Do you know that wild dragon?" Aemond asked in delight. For a moment, his stomachache had faded.
"The Sheep Thief is a great scourge to the Vale," the old hunter nodded, his face serious.
Aemond, delighted, pressed the issue head-on. The old hunter, intent on stopping the other man from pursuing the cruel and cunning wild dragon, revealed everything he knew.
"The Sheep Thief is a beast that appeared in the Vale several years ago. It's cruel, greedy, and cunning, and it loves to steal the shepherds' sheep to satisfy its hunger."
"Every time this dragon appears, it encounters a large number of shepherds."
"Doesn't it harm people?" Aemond asked doubtfully.
The old hunter's face was filled with sorrow, and he spoke in a low voice, "In the beginning, some shepherds, trying to stop it, were burned to death along with their sheepdogs by the Sheep Thief."
Aemond had no idea. Among wild dragons, the Sheep Thief was arguably the worst. Before the Cannibal's death, he only stole dragon eggs and hunted dragonlings, never appearing before humans. Greyshade was a mere casualty, abducted to the Vale early on. A sheep thief, perhaps a third-generation dragon, reveled in preying on human sheep and even dared to injure them when they encountered them.
It seemed that besides eating sheep, his greatest passion was beating up the poor shepherds and their sheepdogs.
"It was only when the King of the Vale and Lady Laena rode their dragons and drove the sheep thief out of the Vale that he finally quieted down," the old hunter said, calming himself. "After that, he only dared to eat sheep again, hiding from humans."
"What a cunning dragon," Aemond exclaimed in amazement.
"Sheep thieves are the epitome of the Vale's vileness. For your safety, it's best to return to Dale." Several young men chimed in, hoping to claim credit for escorting the royal family.
Of course, Aemond wouldn't agree, and was about to refuse when a sharp dragon roar rang out, attracting everyone's attention.
"Shhh!"
Aemond looked up and saw the monstrous, brown dragon with a strange appearance again.
"It's a sheep thief! Get down!" the old hunter exclaimed, dodging to the ground.
The people of the Vale were still less accepting of dragons than the people of King's Landing, who saw them daily. They had an instinctive fear of the cunning wild dragons they had heard of. Soon, the brown dragon flew away.
The old hunter scrambled to his feet, and the silver-haired youth vanished.
...
Lonely Mountain, Dragon's Valley.
"Your Majesty, there's still no news of Prince Aemond," a dragon handler reported.
"It's alright, no Targaryen will die in the Vale," Aemon waved.
The dragon handler respectfully withdrew.
"Alas!" Aemon sighed, left alone.
When will Aemond, this boy, ever transform his unwavering determination to tame dragons into a bit of intelligence?
Why is Dragon's Valley called Dragon's Valley?
Answer me!
As the dignified King of the Vale, he knew the land intimately, so how could he turn a blind eye to a wild dragon within his domain? Since he'd happened to have his eye on a sheep thief, he should have told him directly. Aemon, being such a kindhearted man, would have told him about his habits and the location of his lair. Why bother chasing him alone?
Moreover, he'd set out even more hastily than last time, leaving behind no food or drink.
Aemon shook his head. It was only because he governed the Vale well that a Targaryen in distress wouldn't starve to death. But Aemond's intelligence was truly disappointing.
Too reckless.
Elsewhere, outside the Lonely Mountain, Aemond circled the northern part of the Vale a little, then scurried back to his starting point.
"Is this, Dale?" Aemond was stunned, staring at the towering white walls within his sight.
So what was the point of all my exhausting pursuit?
"Aemond, you're back?" a surprised voice called out. Jaehaerys was accompanied by a young green dragon, clutching a string of candied haws, staring in surprise at his uncle, who had come and gone so quickly.
"Jon, who are you talking to?" Baena and Rhaena approached hand in hand, each clutching a marshmallow. These were delicacies their father had invented, beloved throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
"You, you..." Aemond pointed with a trembling hand, his voice trembling.
"Hush, he seems to have been deeply shaken." Jaehaerys grabbed his two sisters and tried to slip away.
"Give it to me!" Aemond, his anger rising, his courage rising. He kicked Jaehaerys's little butt and snatched the candied haws away before he could even chew it.
"Jon!" the twins cried in shock, watching their brother fly away.
"You two too." Aemond snatched the marshmallows again and stormed out in front of the city guards.
As his cousin had said, sugar is the best nutrient. So don't blame him for his ruthlessness.
"Stop!" By the time the search troops finally arrived, Aemond had already vanished.
...
As dusk approached, Aemond, unfamiliar with the road, climbed the mountain and waded through the water, first crossing the side of Lonely Mountain and entering the Dragon Valley through a bush-covered path.
"Bah, why doesn't Aemon know how to repair the road."
Aemond was in tatters and spit out a blade of grass from the corner of his mouth. Fortunately, he finally got in.
"Hiss!"
A huge brown dragon circled slowly above his head, and when the sun was about to set, it landed somewhere in the valley.
"It hasn't left yet."
Aemond smiled and stood on a high place to overlook the movements of the wild dragon and sheep thief.
From a distance, he vaguely saw a dragon shadow climbing up the rock and entering a smoking cave.
"Found it!"
Aemond confirmed the direction, jumped down from the high place and slid down the steep slope of the mountain.
In a flash, he fell into the valley against the bushes and thorns.
It must be said.
This kid is very talented and has mastered the skills of parkour.
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