*
Seeing that Rhaegor could not be persuaded, Legan and Ailarion stopped trying. They had left in such a hurry that they hadn't even brought extra sets of clothes, let alone armor or swords.
However, Legan had brought a lot of money, totaling seven or eight kinmony.
If they weren't particular about the quality of the armor, Legan's money could buy two sets of decent full chainmail with helmets.
Or it could buy three teenagers a lavish feast for a long time.
"Your Highness, even a knight for hire doesn't wander around in armor every day. You'll only draw attention to yourself." Although Ailarion was not as meticulous and interesting as Legan, his father, Tigris Hoth, was once a very poor landed knight, and his own sister married Oberyn, who used to be a knight for hire. When he was young, he had heard his father and others tell stories of the past.
"There might not be any issues in Your Highness's territory, but if we enter the Stormlands, the situation will likely be very different." Ailarion knew more about this issue than Legan: "The knights for hire in the Stormlands are not as easy to deal with as those in the Borderlands. We are all young men, and if we have too much good equipment—"
"Wait a minute." Rhaegor noticed something was off: "The three of us?"
The young man opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He actually wanted to persuade his two friends to go back. The conditions Prince Dragonzel gave him were harsh: he needed to cross the Stormlands, travel all the way to the Great Wall, then turn back and traverse all the regions south of the Great Wall before he could return to Dragon Nest City. He didn't want his two innocent friends to suffer with him.
Legan and Ailarion exchanged glances, knowing what Rhaegor wanted to say, and both showed a bitter expression: "Your Highness, if you want to send us back now, we can't go back either."
Legan pretended to wipe away tears: "Your Highness, although Ser Hofa and the others might know that we ran away for you, if we go back the same way we came, Ser Hofa will definitely break our legs along with Count Aslan."
"If you don't go back, I'll break your legs too." Rhaegor threatened the two youths.
However, Legan and Ailarion just exchanged glances and understood that their young lord must be hesitating at this moment. If it were according to Rhaegor's previous temper, he wouldn't have said such soft words. Without surprise, the original Rhaegor might have started acting while speaking. It was clear that Rhaegor was ultimately conquered by their 'dead pig not afraid of boiling water' expressions.
"Your Highness, if you want to punish us, then punish us by letting us be your attendants." Legan looked into Rhaegor's eyes and said with a mischievous smile, "Anyway, according to the rules of the Purple Palace, our punishment for skipping classes is to serve as servants for the Scholars or attendants for Ser Hofa. Following you is the same!"
Rhaegor found that he couldn't refute Legan's words.
He also couldn't really stubbornly refuse his good friends' help; after all, they were essentially his arms. Prince Dragonzel had his Bloodsworn Brothers; he treated Hofa and the others almost identically to Valarr and Ray. That's why the Varezes family was now a united fist, unbreakable. He would also have his own Bloodsworn Brothers in the future, and Legan and Ailarion would certainly become important members, and most likely one of the future 'five fingers'.
After thinking for a while, Rhaegor finally made up his mind.
He needed to change his temper, and perhaps accepting the loyalty of his two friends was the beginning.
Having made up his mind, Rhaegor still spoke a bit awkwardly, saying, "Alright."
Before he finished speaking, Legan almost jumped up, a look of triumph on his face: "Ailarion, see? I told you Your Highness wouldn't refuse us this time."
"But I have a condition."
"Please tell us." Ailarion appeared much more composed than Legan at this moment. For the two of them, who knew Rhaegor well, such a degree of "concession" from Rhaegor was an extremely rare occurrence. This even suggested that Rhaegor might have changed his long-standing habits.
It was a good thing.
"Three points." Rhaegor looked at his two friends very seriously: "First, the rules you follow at home, you must also follow outside. Do not break the rules unless absolutely necessary."
Ailarion nodded. If Rhaegor hadn't said that, he would have found it strange.
"Second, I am currently exiled by my father. My name is not Rhaegor Varese, but Legan Silver Blood. Legan, I apologize for using your name."
Rhaegor sincerely apologized to Legan.
Legan didn't mind; after all, his name "Legan" was itself a phonetic variant of Rhaegor's High Valyrian name. However, Legan felt that he should also change his name, as the surname Kaawen was a prominent noble surname in Westeros today.
"So now I am a wandering knight, and you two—"
"Heh heh, Your Highness, oh, no, good Ser." Legan patted his chest. They had considered this issue before escaping. A friend had helped them.
Robert Valtaken, the eldest son of Lynn Valtaken, Loras Tarly, the priggish one from House Tarly, and Renly Caffuren, the little one from the Caffuren family, although they didn't run away with them, they provided many "bad ideas."
For example, false identities and false names. That priggish Loras Tarly specialized in this. He received secret missions from his Aunt Diana. If Legan guessed correctly, guiding these young men of suitable age and martial arts to follow Rhaegor was a mission Loras Tarly received from Mrs. Diana. Although the names and nicknames he came up with were disliked by the two youths, they indeed gave them a lot of inspiration.
For example,
"I am 'Falcon' Hago." Legan knew that his obvious Valyrian appearance made it best not to use a Westeros name, nor those High Valyrian names, so he chose a common name among the Valyrian people brought by Prince Dragonzel. "My father is a falconer brought by Lord Dragonzel. He saved some money to make me a knight. Your Ser's father took me in and let me be your attendant."
Of course, the nickname was changed, as the priggish Tarly originally gave him the nickname "Liar" Hago.
"I am 'Bold' Roger." Ailarion stated his alias. Unlike Legan, although his face was also good-looking, it was a typical Borderlands face, not even as distinctive as Hofa's, so he didn't need to deliberately create an identity background, nor did he need to come up with a background story for his nickname like Legan did.
Rhaegor didn't know what to say.
It seemed his father was right; he indeed needed more experience, otherwise, even in front of these friends and retainers who would become his arms in the future, his "wisdom" and "ability" were somewhat lacking.
"Finally, if we encounter danger, and I tell you to run, you are not allowed to disobey."
Rhaegor looked firmly at Legan and Ailarion.
This was his bottom line.
Legan and Ailarion exchanged glances, seeing determination in each other's eyes.
By the new and old gods and Prince Dragonzel, if they truly encountered a danger they couldn't resolve, even putting aside their families, they were Rhaegor's friends, "retainers" who had received his favor.
How could they abandon Rhaegor and run away first?
However, the two eventually nodded in agreement.
When Legan, disregarding Rhaegor's objections, stripped off his armor and placed it on his warhorse.
Dragon Nest City, Dragonpit.
Star Song paced restlessly in the Dragonpit's massive cavern, seemingly preparing to fly out, but as if blocked by something, it could only circle powerlessly within the cavern.
Vermithor lazily poked his head out of his nest, looked at the person blocking Star Song, then decisively roared once and retreated back to sleep.
Because that person was Prince Dragonzel.
When Dragonzel stood in front of Star Song, the giant beast that Star Song had grown into didn't dare to fly out directly.
"Quiet, Star Song," Dragonzel scolded.
But Star Song still roared at Dragonzel a few times, agitated and restless, not fully obeying the dangerous "kindred's" arrangements, as he wasn't his companion and had no right to command him.
Dragonzel didn't understand Star Song's meaning, but he could roughly guess what Star Song was roaring about. He was Rhaegor's companion dragon, and after domestication, the connection between him and Rhaegor was quite close. As soon as Rhaegor left the range of Dragon Nest City and Summerhall, the dragon felt it and wanted to fly out to find his companion. However, Dragonzel stopped him.
"Alright, alright," Dragonzel sighed. He also knew he couldn't be too harsh on his silly boy's dragon. "Don't worry, I'll let you go find that silly boy when necessary."
Dragonzel stretched out his hand, as if possessing some magic. Star Song tilted his head, and the previous agitation and anger suddenly vanished. His huge disc-shaped horn crown gently nudged Dragonzel's outstretched hand, and then Star Song slowly turned his head, crawled a few steps, flapped his dragon wings, and flew back to his cave.
Dragonzel looked at his hand. He had a connection to his own bloodline. No matter where Rhaegor went, he could sense him and know if he was in mortal danger.
"Rhaegor, my foolish son," Dragonzel suddenly smiled, "I hope you don't disappoint me."
Horse Market.
This was a rather bustling market in Youlu Village territory. The landed knight who owned this land, upon learning that Kalasa of Ago had established a settlement nearby, keenly perceived that an opportunity to get rich was coming.
So the knight with a brain proactively spent money to build an inn, stables, and a tavern in the village in front of the castle. He even personally led his people to build a dirt road connecting to the bone road, all to attract merchants to gather there.
He also specifically brought wine and gifts to the settlement, establishing good relations with the Dothraki elders and women who remained there, enabling him to consistently exchange for horses.
Over time, although that landed knight was once on the verge of begging in the streets, he eventually turned his fortunes around through the prosperity of the Horse Market and became wealthy.
"Clink."
Forcefully driving in the last nail, the stable owner carefully inspected the freshly shod horseshoe.
Not bad, it seems his hand hasn't gotten rusty.
The stable owner wiped his sweat and looked up towards the edge of the market town. It wasn't the season for horses to be on the market; the Dothraki and other horse dealers hadn't yet raised a new batch of horses, and their market town was quite deserted at the moment.
Customers?
On the dirt road from the market town to the bone road, three dusty young men slowly appeared from the edge of his vision. The leading youth wore a rather good-looking riding outfit, seemingly the Young Lord of a certain family, or a good knight visiting other lords. The two beside him were also very young, one walking, one riding a horse, but they were slowly entering the market town.
Their destination seemed to be his stable.
The stable owner quickly lowered his head, pretending to be busy with other things, but his eyes still secretly darted towards the three youths.
Indeed, the clothes of these three young fellows looked like good material and were exquisitely made. The stable owner also noticed the sword at Rhaegor's waist and the things carried on the empty horse's back.
Wait, horses?
Only then did the stable owner realize what he had overlooked. All three horses were top-grade steeds, only seen in large cities like Summerhall and Silver Crown City, and in the castles of noble Old Lords like Youlu City and Black Harbor.
What did this mean?
The stable owner was overjoyed; this could only mean one thing: these three youths were at least the offspring of some noble, and although he didn't know what they were doing out here, they must be very rich.
Even if they didn't have money, he could make a large sum just by having them sell their horses.
Merchants from the north loved horses produced in the Borderlands; they were willing to pay high prices for horses that could be sold and those that couldn't.
Rhaegor glanced at the market town. Compared to the market outside Silver Blood Army Manor he had visited, this market town was very simple, with even very few goods, and even the horses in the stable looked somewhat "unpresentable."
But there was no way; they couldn't possibly let the warhorses they brought carry their equipment.
The stable owner hadn't expected that the silver-haired boy would be so articulate, and he seemed to be an expert. He had originally planned to sell them three packhorses for six hundred twenty silver stags each, but eventually, under Legan's sharp tongue and Rhaegor's rather intimidating gaze,
The stable owner compromised.
"Look," Legan lowered his voice and leaned close to the stable owner, saying, "Do you think the hooves of these three horses are as you described?"
"And the breed," Rhaegor looked at Legan, finally also lowering his voice, "You told us these are purebred Borderlands heavy draft horses, but both their coat color and hooves are..."
"Alright, alright, Seven Hells!" the stable owner wailed. He knew his plan to squeeze some money out of these three boys today was likely to fall through. "Three young Masters, ah, no." The stable owner noticed that among the three youths, Rhaegor, with his sword, was the one to be respected.
"Good Ser, please let me off the hook. Five hundred thirty silver stags per horse, no lower." The stable owner started to play the victim, tears welling up in his eyes. "Although these three old horses are a bit old, they are very strong, and their temperaments are beyond reproach. Look, look." The stable owner patted each horse, and indeed, there was no reaction.
"How obedient! Five hundred thirty, no less. I'll even provide the horseshoes for you, good Ser. If it's any lower, I won't even be able to afford gifts for those savages."
Rhaegor frowned when he heard the word "savages."
"Three horses, one price, one thousand four hundred," Legan stated the stable owner's psychological bottom line. "My Ser has a long journey to Winterfell to visit Duke Cregan. Your packhorses are so old; if something goes wrong, it will be my Ser's loss." Legan said in an unyielding tone.
The stable owner struggled for a while.
Ultimately, the deal was made.
Biting the kinmony that Rhaegor handed over, he checked the portrait on the kinmony. The stable owner suddenly frowned as well.
The portrait on the kinmony was not King Aegon on the throne, nor the face-to-face profiles of Prince Dragonzel and King Aegon, nor the most widely circulated King Viserys and King Jaehaerys.
Instead, it was the portrait of King Jacaerys wearing the Iron Sword Crown.
Such kinmony were rare; they were gold coins minted before the minting of the kinmony known as "two-headed coins" began.
They were mainly produced from the royal mints in Summerhall and Silver Crown City. The royal mints in Casterly Rock, White Harbor, and King's Landing also minted some. However, the overall quantity minted was not very large.
It seems he guessed correctly; these three youths indeed had some status...
But shouldn't these young nobles with status spend money like water? They haggled with him for so long over just a little over four kinmony.
The stable owner looked at the retreating figures of the three with a feeling of wanting to cry but having no tears.
"Oh, by the way, Boss," Rhaegor suddenly turned back to the stable owner.
"Please don't call them 'savages' anymore," Rhaegor said in a very serious tone. Then he turned and continued walking.
This left the stable owner completely bewildered.
Savages? What was wrong with that word? He remembered that the Dothraki and First Men didn't dislike that term.
It was truly inexplicable.
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