Chapter 180: The Smiling Knight
"Come out!" Ser Joffrey Arryn led two teams of knights as they surged forward, surrounding the poachers in the Kingswood.
Rhaegar saw towering pines and grey-green sentinel trees, along with gorse, ferns, thistles, sedges, and blackberry bushes scattered throughout. The great stag had already vanished, leaving only the knights tracking the poachers.
Ser Joffrey Arryn led the charge, armor flashing as they rode hard, quickly cornering the two poachers.
They were just a boy and a girl in their teens. With no horses and little stamina, escape from mounted knights was impossible.
The girl was taller, carrying a longbow. Girls matured earlier, and though young, she already appeared tall, wild, and strikingly beautiful, with fair skin, golden hair, and bright amber eyes.
The boy was shorter, also armed with a bow and a sword. He had black hair and intense eyes, with too much white showing—Rhaegar thought him somewhat unhinged.
Both wore plain commoner's clothing, without jewelry. Their bows were simple wooden ones, but the girl's skill had been evident—her timing and aim were excellent.
The Dragon Guards forced the two youths into the center.
The soldiers stood ready, longbows drawn, prepared to turn them into pincushions at a moment's notice. Cruel though it seemed, this was the harsh reality of the age.
"Ser Joffrey, we are not robber knights. There is no need to treat them so harshly," Rhaegar said calmly.
"Do you not fear the King's law?" Rhaegar raised a hand to quiet the others. "The Kingswood is royal land. Poaching here can cost you a hand."
The girl gathered her courage, looking at the silver-haired prince surrounded by banners—the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, and other noble sigils. The knights around him wore splendid armor.
She realized who he was.
"My lord… our companion is starving and sick. We had no choice—we needed to hunt to survive."
The boy simply stared at Rhaegar, showing little fear.
Their story didn't seem false. No one would risk such punishment lightly.
"What are your names? Where are your families?" Rhaegar asked.
"Wenda," the girl said. "And this is Lucas."
"We are both orphans. He's from Flea Bottom… I'm from the Riverlands. My mother died, and my father remarried. After he died, my stepmother tried to sell me to a wealthy dwarf to fund her son's knighthood… so I ran away."
Silence fell among the knights.
Knighthood required money—everyone knew that. Even noble-born knights understood the truth behind it.
Rhaegar was silent as well. Stories like this were not rare.
A thought crossed his mind.
Wenda the White Fawn… and the Smiling Knight?
The boy—Lucas—fit the description. Not large, not powerful, but clearly talented… and unstable.
"How many companions do you have?" Rhaegar asked.
"A few others. Mostly orphans like us," Wenda replied.
That confirmed it.
If left alone, they might one day become the Kingswood Brotherhood.
Rhaegar's mind turned to strategy. If the capital were ever besieged, these woodsmen could serve as scouts and guerrillas—far more reliable than wildlings.
"Knight," Lucas suddenly said, "your sword is better than mine… but do you dare spar with me?"
"Lucas!" Wenda panicked.
"How dare you!" Ser Joffrey snapped. "Do you know who stands before you? Prince Rhaegar Targaryen—descendant of the Dragonlords, protector of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones, the Silver Prince—"
"Enough," Rhaegar said lightly.
Then he nodded.
"Come."
Lucas charged immediately, sword swinging.
Rhaegar did not draw Orphan-Maker. Instead, he took up a standard longsword.
Steel clashed.
The watching knights expected a swift victory—but their expressions soon changed.
Lucas was talented.
His strikes were wild but controlled, aggressive yet precise. He fought like a man possessed—relentless, fearless, ignoring pain and fatigue.
A berserker.
Rhaegar understood immediately—this was no ordinary boy. This was someone who could become terrifying.
But Rhaegar was no ordinary opponent either.
His strength surged, his blade growing heavy as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
With a sweeping strike, he knocked Lucas's sword aside and placed his blade at the boy's throat.
"Prince! Please spare him!" Wenda cried.
"I lost," Lucas said calmly. "We can fight again next year."
No fear. Only resolve.
"Hunting in the Kingswood costs a hand," Rhaegar said. "Endangering the royal family is punishable by death. But… considering your youth, I will overlook it."
Lucas lowered his head slightly.
"Thank you, my prince," Wenda said quickly.
Rhaegar turned to the assembled knights.
"My lords, we share responsibility. When children must hunt like beasts to survive, it is a failure of those sworn to protect the realm."
The knights were stunned.
"I will petition the king to allow controlled logging and limited hunting rights for commoners," Rhaegar continued.
He took several silver stags and placed them in Wenda's hand.
Ser Barristan Selmy followed suit, offering coins of his own.
One by one, the knights contributed.
Tears welled in Wenda's eyes.
Lucas, awkward but sincere, also gave thanks.
"If you wish," Rhaegar said, "join us tonight. You may dine with my retinue."
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