Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 163: Crackclaw Wildlings vs Mountain Clans

The Mushroom Set’s merchant caravan only operated in the Crownlands and the Riverlands.

Taking advantage of this trip to the Vale, Rhaegar planned to open up a new trade route. The Mushroom Set’s caravan was to be developed in the Vale.

Facing Rhaegar’s invitation, Jeyne raised her eyebrows lightly and hesitated. Rhaenyra noticed her expression and, with a mischievous smile, said, “What, you don’t dare?”

She knew her good sister was afraid of heights.

Jeyne tilted her head defiantly. “I am the Lady of the Eyrie. Do you think I will be afraid?”

“How about I carry you?” Rhaenyra teased, closing in on her.

“Just let the dragon through,” Jeyne replied, fear aside, full of determination.

…

Noon, in the guest room.

Rhaegar stayed in the cramped, stone-built room, holding a letter from Driftmark.

“A letter from Driftmark? What does it say?” Rhaenyra, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked a little worried.

“Don’t worry, it’s good news,” Rhaegar replied, handing her the letter with satisfaction. “Corlys’ fleet was stationed at Bloodstone Island. Pirates from the Three Sisters tried to launch a sneak attack, but just as the Stormlands’ fleet arrived, they were caught in a pincer movement and wiped out.”

“The first battle is a great success, and the advantage is ours,” Rhaegar added, watching Rhaenyra smile, pleased with the victory at the Stepstones.

“Yes, Corlys has secured his position in the Stepstones. Once support from the rest of the realm arrives, the Three Sisters will be defeated,” Rhaegar analyzed, considering the support from the Vale.

Once the wedding ceremony at Runestone was over and the fleet in Gulltown was gathered, they could proceed with their plans. As for the rebellion of the mountain clans, if Jeyne asked for help, he would hold the dragon at the ready. If Yorbert resolved it, they’d head straight for the Stepstones.

“This cousin of ours is a bit unreliable,” Rhaegar mentioned abruptly.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, “How so?”

“A woman in charge of the overall situation, relying on the Regent’s bannermen to fight foreign wars—I suspect she doesn’t have enough real power,” Rhaegar speculated boldly.

“Jeyne has Yorbert’s counsel, and the Vale has not been in chaos all these years,” Rhaenyra countered, thinking of the Defender of the Vale who is  out in the field.

Rhaegar shook his head. “Yorbert is getting old. If he passes away, there will be countless troubles for Jeyne.”

Yorbert had resigned from his position as the Lord of Runestone in his prime and had supported Jeyne for over twenty years. The death of such an old man would not be sudden.

“Aren’t you still here?” Rhaenyra murmured. “Jeyne is our blood relative, your staunch supporter. You can’t just stand by and watch.”

“I’ll help her, but she has to be strong herself,” Rhaegar said indifferently. “Let’s see how Jeyne responds to this Vale rebellion.”

Rhaenyra was unsure and looked at him quizzically.

“Shh~ Listen,” Rhaegar said, suddenly placing his index finger on his lips and pointing to the narrow window.

Bewildered, Rhaenyra pressed her ear a little closer. “Hear what?”

“A noise?” Rhaenyra looked skeptical, feeling he was playing a trick on her.

“It’s the sound of Alyssa’s Tears,” Rhaegar said, pulling her up and pushing open the wooden door to go outside. “There are many sights in the Vale. I’ve seen the Bloody Gate and the Giant’s Lance, but I haven’t yet seen Alyssa’s Tears.”

His pace quickened, and he quickly walked down the stairs and out of the castle gates.

“Roar…,” Cannibal, his dragon, had long been waiting in the front yard of the castle, its green eyes staring at the two approaching.

Rhaegar pushed Rhaenyra up the soft ladder, and they sat together in the saddle.

“Let’s go, Cannibal!”

“Roar…,” Cannibal shook itself, ran a few steps on both feet, lifted its wings, and took off.

“Rhaegar!” Rhaenyra, riding on Cannibal for the first time, gripped the saddle with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

“Don’t be afraid. Syrax is too slow. I’ll show you Cannibal’s speed,” Rhaegar reassured her, staying close with a smile.

Sensing his rider’s wish, Cannibal picked up speed, plunging into the clouds and then charging back up.

“Ah!…” Rhaenyra screamed, unable to hold on, gripping Rhaegar tightly.

Rhaegar laughed and rose from the saddle, enjoying the weightlessness against the howling wind. He would never fall off the dragon’s back. It was just a trick he and Cannibal had practiced to strengthen their bond.

In a few moments, Cannibal flew to the west side of the Giant’s Lance. A huge waterfall appeared before them. The sound of the water falling like a torrent was like a roar.

“This is Alyssa’s Tears,” Rhaegar said, pointing to the waterfall located at the top of a towering mountain. According to legend, a woman named Alyssa Arryn watched her father, husband, and children being killed without shedding a single tear.

The gods punished her by turning her into a waterfall after her death. The gods forgave her for her indifference when the waterfall’s water once again irrigated the fertile black soil of the Vale. Interestingly, not a single drop of water from the waterfall has ever fallen on the plains of the Vale.

“When you visit the Vale, you can’t miss the view,” Rhaegar said, marveling at the sight.

…

Mountains of the Moon

In the dense forests along a mountain trail, a convoy of wagons moved slowly. The caravan was long, guarded by hundreds of soldiers clad in armor. At the head of the procession, a silver-armored and white-robed member of the Kingsguard led the way.

“Ser Erryk, wait,” called a soft male voice from behind.

Erryk turned back, cautiously addressing the voice. “What is it, Tormund?”

Tormund, leaning against a covered wagon, looked bewildered. “I see a large group of men hiding on the hill road ahead. They have iron weapons, bows, and arrows.”

“How many?” Erryk’s brow furrowed.

“Around three hundred,” Tormund estimated.

Erryk’s expression grew serious. He called a large soldier over and ordered, “Stop the caravan. Three hundred men stay behind; two hundred men follow me.”

“Yes!” the soldier responded, rallying two hundred tall soldiers with great efficiency. These were former Crackclaw Point freefolk, now serving as Dragonkeepers of the Dragonpit, accompanying the Kingsguard to transport goods to the Vale.

Erryk swiftly mounted his horse and led the two hundred soldiers into the dense forest, advancing quickly.

…

Meanwhile, a group of rough men in animal skins lay in the dense shrubs, eyes fixed on the distant intersection. They had heard from scouts that a group of well-laden travelers had entered the Mountains of the Moon, ripe for plundering.

The tribe, poor and desperate, had been waiting for a long time with no sign of the caravan. Growing impatient, a one-eyed bandit poked his head out. “Where’s that caravan? Why hasn’t it arrived yet?” he grumbled.

Slap! An ugly, burly man emerged from the bushes, striking the one-eyed bandit. “Patience. Make another sound and I’ll rip your head off and stuff it up your arse.”

Whoosh—

Before he finished speaking, a sharp arrow flew through the air, piercing the one-eyed bandit’s remaining good eye.

Pfft—

The iron arrow exited through the back of his head. The one-eyed bandit, his expression still grimacing, staggered and fell to the ground.

The burly man looked dumbfounded, blurting out, “Now he’s only got his arsehole left.”