The next day.
A black and a blue dragon soared together, circling above the smoke-filled skies of Stonehelm.
Beyond the city walls, ashes stretched for miles.
Suddenly, the ground trembled slightly as a large group of Storm Knights rode in on horseback.
There were many of them—approximately two thousand.
Leading the group was none other than Royce Caron, the Earl of Nightsong.
…
The Storm Knights set up camp outside the city, while some officers entered the castle.
Royce, filled with unease, ascended the damaged gray-white walls.
Under a watchtower facing the sea, Rhaegar leaned against the parapet with both elbows, quietly admiring the ebb and flow of the waves.
War wears down patience, but a beautiful view can soothe the mind.
"Brother, Earl Caron has arrived."
Helena wore a green cloak, with two strands of silver hair braided and draped over her shoulders, blending naturally with her long, silver-gold locks.
Rhaegar glanced sideways, noticing the middle-aged man, who now looked significantly more haggard.
Royce knelt on one knee, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry. I failed to fulfill my role as commander, leading to this disaster."
He was referring to the fall of House Swann.
As fellow Stormland nobles—both of them belonging to noble families responsible for guarding the border—he could not shirk his responsibility for the destruction of House Swann.
Rhaegar rubbed his temples and sighed softly. "As long as you understand where the problem lies. I don't have the time to assign blame right now."
With that, he turned around and leaned against the wall naturally, exuding an air of effortless composure.
Royce stole a glance at the prince's profile and felt ashamed of himself. "Your Highness, I will see to it that the remaining Dornish raiders in the Stormlands are eliminated as soon as possible."
Helena glanced between the two men, quietly observing and learning from her brother's demeanor.
Rhaegar's gaze flickered as his expression grew more serious. "Olipher Yronwood has fled. The remaining Dornish forces won't be a problem. What I need to ask about is the Vulture Mountains."
Throughout history, Dorne had frequently clashed with the Reach and the Stormlands, their mutual invasions and skirmishes becoming the norm.
A large-scale Dornish invasion of the Stormlands, however, was extremely rare.
At present, the Stormlands had three dragons, and Dorne's military commander had fled. It was only a matter of time before the remaining forces were wiped out.
But Rhaegar suspected that Qoren's ambitions extended far beyond this.
He anticipated a major assault on both the Prince's Pass and the Boneway.
Royce's expression shifted slightly, as if realizing something crucial. He quickly responded, "Nightsong is severely undergarrisoned and relies entirely on the Duke of Highgarden's support. Your Highness should focus your efforts there."
He was the lord of Nightsong himself.
With him stationed at Stonehelm, his younger brother was left to defend their home.
As a border territory with Dorne, Nightsong lacked the fertile lands nourished by rivers or the thriving trade of seaports, making it inherently poor.
Years of conflict with the Dornish had further strained its resources—the land was vast, yet sparsely populated.
Defending the fortress at the Prince's Pass would require Highgarden's financial and military backing.
Rhaegar felt reassured and murmured, "The Duke of Tyrell has already dispatched troops."
The old Duke of Tyrell, though mediocre and known for his greed and indulgence, was at least diligent in fulfilling his duties as Warden of the Reach.
Royce hesitated briefly before saying, "The Reach's armies lack combat experience. Most of them are conscripts. You should oversee them personally."
It was common knowledge that the armies of the Riverlands and the Reach were the best-equipped but the least capable fighters.
The aging Lord Tully of the Riverlands was known for his love of comfort and would never personally lead troops into battle.
To ensure the Reach's forces performed at their best, Rhaegar himself would have to take command.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he picked up on the hidden meaning in Royce's words.
The Reach was wealthy, and even excluding the troops deployed from Oldtown to the Stepstones, at least ten thousand soldiers were available to guard the Prince's Pass.
If used strategically, such a large force could create a significant impact.
At the very least—
Once the Dornish rebellion was crushed, Rhaegar's influence in the Reach would soar, overshadowing both Highgarden and the towering Hightower of Oldtown.
"I appreciate your counsel, Lord Royce."
Rhaegar smiled slightly.
"I wish you success."
Royce withdrew.
Once he was gone, the siblings exchanged glances.
Helena tilted her head and asked softly, "Are we going to Highgarden?"
She recalled the little rose of Highgarden, who had proactively befriended her.
"Maybe."
Rhaegar's response was ambiguous.
As of now, there were no fewer than three known warfronts.
Braavos had attacked Pentos.
The Stormlands were clearing out the remaining Dornish forces.
And the Vulture Mountains posed a growing threat.
"Hisss—screeech…"
A piercing dragon's roar interrupted their conversation.
Rhaegar looked up and saw an ugly, mud-colored dragon flapping toward them, circling the waters beneath the watchtower.
"Baaah~~"
In its claws, the muddy dragon clutched a bewildered-looking goat.
"It hasn't given up yet."
Helena's voice was soft.
"Hisss—screeech…"
The thieving dragon let out a cry, hesitating as it approached, as if trying to barter the goat for something in return.
Rhaegar remained in his relaxed posture and chuckled. "This one is quite clever… but it doesn't really act like a dragon."
Dragons were supposed to be proud creatures. This one was downright disgraceful.
Helena puffed out her cheeks and waved her small hand. "No more."
She was speaking to the muddy dragon.
The thief studied them, its sunken eyes filled with scrutiny, reluctant to leave.
"Hisss—screeeech…"
The two massive dragons soaring in the sky gradually lowered their altitude, letting out warning roars.
The sheep thief was startled and quickly backed away.
The dragons folded their wings and landed on the gray-white city wall, their hind legs stomping onto the stone.
"Roar..."
The gluttonous dragon's green eyes gleamed as it locked onto the troublesome sheep thief.
A sneaky-looking dragon like that was clearly up to no good.
Dreamfyre let out a soft call as it descended beside Helena, elegantly lowering its pale blue head to rest near its rider's shoulder.
Helena smiled warmly and gently stroked the towering dragon.
Rhaegar observed the pair—especially the vibrant and spirited Dreamfyre—and remarked, "Dreamfyre looks full of energy."
This was the first dragon he had ever truly interacted with.
Slender in build, adorned with dazzling silver streaks, its temperament was just as remarkable as its appearance.
"Hiss..."
Dreamfyre's vertical pupils flicked toward Rhaegar. It slightly parted its jaws, letting out a faint, hissing growl.
Helena nuzzled against it and spoke with anticipation. "Ever since Dreamfyre ate that scale, its mood has been soaring."
Just last night, the siblings had fed Dreamfyre the Dragon Essence.
Both the gluttonous dragon and the sheep thief had been present.
When the Dragon Essence was revealed, the gluttonous dragon remained indifferent, as if it were just an ordinary scale.
The sheep thief, on the other hand, drooled uncontrollably, staring at the dragon-scale-shaped Dragon Essence with wide, shining eyes.
Dreamfyre whipped its tail and smacked the thief away before greedily swallowing the scale itself.
It turned out that the Dragon Essence had little appeal to fully grown dragons but drove younger ones—those not yet at their peak—into a frenzy.
"Hiss..."
Dreamfyre nudged its rider, its vertical pupils locking onto the lingering sheep thief. Spreading its pale blue wings wide, it issued a firm warning.
It was a massive creature, with a head-to-tail length exceeding 80 meters and a wingspan reaching 100 meters.
Though it was not as large as the gluttonous dragon or even as impressive as its peers, Vhagar and Silverwing, it still utterly dwarfed the sheep thief.
Caraxes and Meraxes were roughly 60 to 70 meters long, while the sheep thief barely exceeded 70 meters.
According to the ancient records of Daenlygar, the first two were within the normal size range, while the latter was exceptional among mature dragons.
Excluding wild dragons, Caraxes and Meraxes were slightly smaller but possessed extraordinary talents.
Caraxes, known as the "Blood Wyrm," had a serpent-like, slender body due to a rare mutation. It was ferocious, bloodthirsty, and wielded a powerful and domineering dragonflame.
Meraxes had been hailed as "the fastest dragon" since its youth—an unmatched title to this day.
Rhaegar watched in fascination, murmuring to himself, "Size isn't the decisive factor. It's all about talent and how it's used."
"Hiss..."
As he pondered, Dreamfyre lunged forward slightly, baring its fangs menacingly.
The sheep thief immediately abandoned the goat and fled in disgrace.
As a wild dragon, avoiding unnecessary fights was a survival instinct.
Helena beamed with delight, pleased by Dreamfyre's newfound assertiveness.
Dreamfyre had always been fierce but had never sought conflict with other dragons.
Now, after consuming the special scale, it had become far more dominant.
"Roar..."
Dreamfyre let out a low growl, rubbing its head lightly against its rider before flapping its wings and soaring away.
Helena froze for a moment, her expression adorably confused.
Was it just her imagination, or had she sensed Dreamfyre's thoughts?
The urge to unleash dragonfire… the desire to hunt…
It seemed like a natural and positive step in its growth.
Helena didn't keep it to herself and instead shared her thoughts with her brother.
Rhaegar simply replied, "That's a good thing."
---
Afternoon arrived.
Stormhelm was bustling with activity. Storm warriors were repairing the city walls and gates, while the remaining squires prepared large cauldrons for cooking.
"Princess..."
"Princess..."
As Helena walked through the kitchen, cooks and squires greeted her one after another.
She nodded in response, checking the food supplies in the cellar.
After being raided by the Dornishmen, both the cellar and granary were nearly empty. The army was now surviving on dry rations brought from Raventree Hall by the Storm Knights.
Helena remained composed, carefully inspecting the stock.
Her brother was discussing stormland-clearing strategies with Lord Royce, while she had volunteered to oversee the cooking.
It wasn't the most important task, but learning—even a little—never hurt.
Besides, after making her rounds, she realized cooking wasn't as easy as it seemed.
Feeding an army was no simple matter.
Knock, knock.
As she kneaded the dough with her own hands, a noise came from the hallway outside.
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Helena suspiciously glanced toward the corridor.
From around the corner, a head with silver-gold hair peeked out.
"Eymond?"
Helena murmured his name, setting down the basin and heading toward him.
No one else seemed to notice. The kitchen remained lively and busy.
Soon, the siblings met in a secluded corner.
Eymond wore a serious expression, seemingly deep in thought. He didn't speak right away.
"If you have something to say, just say it. No need to hesitate," Helena said plainly, her gaze clear and honest.
"You..."
Eymond opened his mouth, then quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was nearby before finally saying, "I saw you and Rhaegar hugging."
As soon as the words left his lips, his expression became visibly aggrieved.
Helena blinked. "Are you jealous?"
"..."
Aemond choked for a moment and said dejectedly, "I'm engaged."
He didn't deny it—he was also self-aware.
Helena asked directly, "So what do you want to do? Break off the engagement?"
"No!"
Aemond was startled and quickly stopped his sister from speaking recklessly.
His sister was great in every way, except for the fact that she always spoke the blunt truth.
Helena shrugged and fixed her gaze on Aemond, making him feel increasingly guilty under her stare.
Aemond wanted to argue back but gradually lowered his head, sighing helplessly. "You shouldn't be like this. You're about to become an aunt."
That morning, he had gone looking for the sheep thief and happened to witness two people getting intimate on the city wall.
This was unacceptable!
Feeling deeply troubled, Aemond warned, "Rhaenyra is a wicked woman. If she finds out about this, she'll sell you to a pleasure house in Lys."
Helena: …
No wonder—he was raised entirely by their mother. Even the way he spoke sounded just like her.
(End of Chapter)