*
Prince Rhaegor did not choose to go to Youlu Village of the Caffuren family, even though they could have found soft beds and hot food there.
The reason was simple: he was in disguise, but Legan was not. Earl Randal Cafferen knew Legan, and if he looked closely, he could also recognize Prince Rhaegor.
Prince Rhaegor believed that Earl Randal had also received his father's order not to help him. He didn't want to trouble the Earl, so he, Legan, and Ailarion still slept on logs for several nights.
It was indeed very uncomfortable.
After waking up, they were soaked, even with a bonfire. The weaker Legan even developed a fever while they were passing through Youlu Village. Fortunately, there was a Silver Blood Army Manor nearby. Prince Rhaegor, despite his soaked clothes, found an assistant Scholar there and managed to save Legan.
That Silver Blood Army Manor was not large, and Prince Rhaegor had never visited it before, so no one recognized him. Prince Rhaegor restocked on food and drinks at the manor and bought the most crucial items—tents and bedding.
At least they didn't have to sleep on the ground anymore.
Prince Rhaegor spent the gold bar from the Star Singer's sword hilt to buy two sets of old chainmail, a spear, a battle axe, and two iron swords from the manor's blacksmith, giving them to Legan and Ailarion.
Now the small group looked more like a wandering knight squad.
Though most wandering knights couldn't afford such good gear.
On the way to the Stormlands, a few short-sighted individuals did question Prince Rhaegor's group's equipment, and then Ailarion taught them a lesson.
"Pah." An old knight with a scarface across his face glanced at Prince Rhaegor's tent and spat forcefully. Facing him was an honest-looking, older middle-aged knight, and the young man beside him, whose face was bruised, also looked indignant.
"Alright, who told you to provoke them, you little scoundrel? Don't you dare forget, the wine in your cup was given by them," the middle-aged knight grumbled, sweeping a glance at the old and young men. It was all that kid's fault for having no discernment, daring to provoke the three of them. As a result, Ailarion almost broke his bones. But fortunately, he was good at playing both sides, successfully saving the rascal and even getting a bag of fruit wine from Prince Rhaegor.
"Seven Hells, 'Hyena,' that kid isn't even a knight. Who would have thought that I, Ser Albin the 'Handsome,' would be beaten by a mere squire?" The young knight dared not speak loudly, afraid of being overheard by Prince Rhaegor's group. He could only suppress his anger and lower his voice: "'Hyena,' you are well-traveled. Can you tell what their origins are?"
The middle-aged knight, known as "Hyena" Kane, shook his head, indicating he didn't know the origins of the three. These three kids, though young, were surprisingly skilled in martial arts and well-equipped.
The silver-haired boy and the golden-haired boy's equipment, though old, were good quality. And the black-haired, green-eyed boy, by the seven gods, that was plate armor! And that sword… Ser Kane the "Hyena" had traveled the South and North for so many years and believed he had seen many fine weapons, but none had caught his old knight's eye like that rapier.
"What are you thinking?" The Scarface old knight looked at Ser Kane the "Hyena" with some confusion, not understanding why he remained silent after shaking his head. However, he still glanced disdainfully at Albin the "Handsome." "Handsome my ass, I think you're a coward. You couldn't even beat a kid who hasn't even grown hair yet. Is that knight title self-proclaimed?"
"Scarface, you old bastard!" Albin exploded, about to throw the cup in his hand, but regretfully noticed there was still half a cup of wine. Angrily, he gulped down the wine: "I am a genuine knight! Ser Robert of Youlu Village personally knighted me. Before I became a knight, I was his squire!"
Listening to the sounds from the other side, Prince Rhaegor and his two companions also sat around the bonfire. Ailarion deftly cleaned the wild rabbit he had caught in the woods and roasted it over the fire.
For commoners, hunting in the lord's forest would mean death, but for these wandering knights who earned their living with their lives and swords...
Poaching?
Whether those landed knights and minor lords could withstand the raids of three to five wandering knights was an unknown.
After all, bandit knights weren't just a rumor. These guys were far more brutal than ordinary people when it came to doing bad deeds. So even the counts often turned a blind eye to the wandering knights hunting in their forests, especially when they appeared in groups.
Anyway, they wouldn't stay in their territory indefinitely.
"Haha, Albin the Coward." The old knight, James Hysan the "Scarface," was a bastard from the West. His father was once the second son of a landed knight family, unable to inherit land or wealth, so he had to wander with his sword and warhorse, passing them down to his bastard son, James Hysan himself. For many years, he had served many lords, hoping to acquire land from them, or at least a full meal and a bed. "I'm telling you, those three kids are definitely not simple."
Just as he was about to succeed, the Dance of the Dragons broke out. The noble old lord he was about to swear fealty to took Jaime to the Riverlands battlefield.
And then tragedy struck.
Jaime still couldn't forget the sight of Vhagar's body, like a mountain from the West, descending from the sky. He saw the bronze-colored dragon and the green dragon collide violently in the sky, like two great mountains. The sound of the dragons fighting almost deafened those fighting below. Dragonflame rained down from the sky like fiery torrents. Jaime watched helplessly as a knight with a boar-emblazoned shield was struck by a stream of dragonflame, turning into a pile of charcoal, man and horse, amidst his screams. He only remembered being terrified and almost paralyzed by the earth-shattering sound, only knowing to turn and run.
Then the sky fell. The moment Vhagar was struck down from the sky by Vermithor, the half-deaf ears of the fleeing Jaime could clearly hear the cheers of the Riverlands commoners. Jaime felt as if his brain was going to explode. He stripped off his armor, which he once treasured, and even snatched a warhorse from a noble old lord with a red lion shield, whom he would never have dared to offend before.
At such a time, who cared who was a noble and who was an unnamed wandering knight?
The world-silencing roar almost permanently deafened Jaime. The flames that erupted when Vhagar crashed consumed almost everyone nearby, whether Riverlands people or West people. But there was a difference: even engulfed by dragonflame, the Riverlands people were still cheering, shouting, "Long live Prince Dragonzel!" while the West people only had endless despair.
He was very lucky. When Vhagar died, the noble old lord's warhorse carried him out of the range of the dragonflame. So he survived.
Then his sky also fell. The count old lord he was supposed to serve was drenched in dragon blood, burned alive by the scorching dragon blood on the spot, and the count's eldest son was sent to the Great Wall during the subsequent Great Judgment. The regent lady no longer supported them, the hired knights, so Jaime had to continue wandering.
That war brought him no wealth.
Only permanent burn scars on his back and the scarface on his face.
And the demons that would forever appear in his dreams thereafter.
That bronze-colored dragon, and that cold, silver-haired man whose face he couldn't see clearly.
"Scarface, don't pretend with what everyone already knows." Ser Kane the "Hyena" unceremoniously interrupted Jaime. "I can tell, that silver-haired boy is most likely from the South; there are many white-haired people there." "Shut up, I can tell." Jaime saw that Kane also knew Legan was most likely from the Borderland Principality, and immediately picked up the wine skin Prince Rhaegor had given them, bored. He shook it, and seeing there was still some wine, he poured it all out and gulped it down. Before he could even take a comfortable breath, the wine skin in his hand was snatched away.
"Seven Hells!" Albin wailed. "We haven't smelled wine for half a month, and you drank so much of the one bag we finally got? Scarface, I'll fight you!"
Before he could rush out, Albin was pressed back onto the log by "Hyena" Kane. "Save your strength, 'Handsome,'" Ser Kane the "Hyena" looked helplessly at his companion.
As peace continued over the years, the security of the Seven Kingdoms also improved, and these wandering knights gradually lost many sources of income.
Some wandering knights had even fallen to the point of one playing a bandit and the other a protector, cooperating to defraud employers of money.
It won't be long before we have to do that too, I guess.
Ser Kane the "Hyena" thought with some bitterness.
On the other side.
The wild rabbit was already roasted to a glistening, mouth-watering state. Ailarion flipped the rabbit over, roasted it for a little longer, then took it off, tore it into three portions, and handed one to Prince Rhaegor, who was sipping black bread soup.
Prince Rhaegor gave the remaining white bread from his ration bag to the recently recovered Legan.
"Thank you." Prince Rhaegor took his share of the rabbit meat, and ignoring the grease on his hands, he bit off a large piece of meat, chewed it a few times, and swallowed it whole.
After savoring the meat's aroma for a while, Prince Rhaegor threw the remaining meat into his pot, stirred it with the leftover black bread soup, and ate it all down with gulps.
Legan was stunned by this.
He had never eaten like that before. Prince Rhaegor was Prince Dragonzel's son, so how could he be so familiar with such simple ways of preparing food?
"It's getting late, Lei—" Prince Rhaegor paused: "Hago, you rest first. I'll take the first half of the night watch, and Roger will take the second half."
Ailarion nodded, and ignoring Legan's protests, he picked him up and threw him into the tent.
"Rest well, don't make Your Highness worry," Ailarion whispered. Legan glanced at Prince Rhaegor, who was gazing at the flames, and nodded.
During the days he had a fever, Prince Rhaegor had been taking care of him. After all, in terms of medical skills, those assistant Scholars might not even be as good as Prince Rhaegor himself.
He just lacked medicine.
Legan kept all these things in mind.
I never thought I would be the first one to burden His Highness Prince Rhaegor.
Legan was filled with guilt for a moment.
Seeing one of the three youths enter the tent to rest, the other golden-haired youth also seemed ready to rest.
Only then did the three wandering knights dare to relax a little and talk, as they had just offended the three youths and were indebted to them for a bag of wine.
How could they not be nervous?
Albin had calmed down by now, but he was still glaring fiercely at Jaime the "Scarface." Jaime didn't care about the young man's gaze at all, and self-indulgently licked his lips, seemingly still savoring the wine he had just drunk.
"Stop savoring it, old man." Ser Kane the "Hyena" couldn't bear it anymore: "When we get to Griffins Roost, Lord Clinton will give us wine."
"Kane, yesterday you said we were going to Storms End." Jaime immediately perked up. "What, is there work at Lord Clinton's place?"
Ser Kane the "Hyena" signaled the young man not to interrupt, then mysteriously whispered: "Haven't you heard the news? Lord Clinton of Griffins Roost, and Duke Baratheon of Storms End, are both gathering knights. It seems there's a war to be fought?"
"A war?" Jaime looked at "Hyena" Kane's eyes in shock: "Impossible, where in the Realm is there a war to be fought now?"
"Not within the Realm." Kane continued to lower his voice: "I'm just guessing. Do you think it's possible Duke Baratheon wants to fight outside?"
On the other side.
Prince Rhaegor watched the rising flames before him, beginning to recall the sights and sounds he had encountered since leaving Dragon Nest City.
Suddenly, he thought of something.
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