Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

The next day:

Aemon got up early and found Rhaenyra, who was busy repairing the road.

"Dragon flame!"

Rhaenyra sat on the dragon's back and, out of boredom, gave the order.

Syrax looked around and, out of habit, blew out dragon flames.

The firesmiths from the Coolie Camp came forward, broke the stones, and mixed them with fine sand and clay to pave the road.

It was a process to achieve smoothness.

Aemon smiled and said, "If Jansif hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known you got up so early."

"I don't have the bad habit of staying in bed."

Rhaenyra pouted and asked, "How was your chat last night? Are you satisfied?"

Aemon's eyes were strange. "You're jealous."

He didn't know how to play it straight.

Upon hearing this, half of Rhaenyra's face flushed, and she tried her best to deny it. "I just care about you."

Whether she's jealous or not isn't important.

The important thing is that Aemon's attitude yesterday made her quite happy.

However, when faced with a valley girl carefully selected by Lady Rhea, it would be a lie to say that she didn't feel awkward.

"Oh—"

Aemon said meaningfully, deliberately lengthening the tone.

Rhaenyra couldn't hide her feelings and said in a deep voice, "You're here to replace me, so pave the way."

"Of course not."

Aemon refused.

After working for half a month, Vermithor nearly consumed his master.

After that, he huddled in the dragon's nest in the mountains, sleeping with Silverwing all day long.

"Then what are you doing?"

Rhaenyra asked unhappily.

Aemon crossed his arms and replied lightly, "Gunthor led a thousand people out of the Moon Mountains to bring you here to ride the dragon and participate in the war."

Rhaenyra was stunned when she heard this, and her anger dispersed with the surprise.

She couldn't resist the temptation.

...

North of the mountains.

Aemon rode a white deer up the hillside, leading nearly a thousand soldiers.

The group consisted of 150 Vale knights, 800 longbowmen, and 30 knights led by Adrian.

The latter group followed after hearing the news and wanting to help.

Aemon naturally did not refuse and gladly accepted their offer.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride a dragon?"

Rhaenyra asked, turning back to him with a frown as she sat on the back of the white deer.

Aemon replied confidently: "With Syrax and Gray Shadow, the Mountain Clan will have enough trouble."

Vermithor is too strong.

If he comes, he won't be able to train soldiers at all.

The eight hundred longbowmen put down their weapons and waited for the dragon to burn and clean up the ground.

Besides, Vormithor's copper-bright dragon flame is comparable to magma and can easily get out of control in the mountains and forests.

Setting fire to the mountains is no joke.

"Okay, but I didn't see any trace of the Mountain Clan along the way."

Rhaenyra was participating in the war for the first time and couldn't hold back.

"A real hunter must be patient."

Aemon held the reins and held her down.

At that moment, they were side by side, and her petite figure nestled in his arms.

Rhaenyra raised her eyes and glanced at him but didn't say anything.

The mountains were difficult to walk on, and the war horses were abandoned.

Only the white deer that Aemon subdued could walk on flat ground, relying on its strong physique with a shoulder height of two meters and a length of five meters.

A faint rustle...

Suddenly, a faint sound came from the bushes in the distance.

Aemon's ears pricked up. He took off the dragon bone bow, put on an arrow, and shot it out with a whoosh.

Puff!

The dull sound of the arrow breaking through the bushes was heard, followed by the shrill barking of a dog.

"Woof, woof, woof!"

Gunthor stepped forward and swung his heavy sword through the low bushes, pulling out a fine black dog.

An arrow had pierced the dog's neck, and blood flowed.

"Prince, it's a hunting dog."

Gunthor's eyes were sharp, and he could tell that the dog was not wild.

Rhaenyra finally reacted.

She stared at Aemon in a daze; her beautiful eyes were full of amazement.

Ignoring him, Aemon called a longbow soldier from the Firesmith tribe and said, "Are there any high mountain clans that raise dogs?"

There is a shortage of supplies on the mountain, and many tribes can't even feed their people.

Being able to raise dogs proves that they are strong.

The longbow soldier carefully checked and said in surprise, "Prince, this is a fine mountain dog from the Painted Dog Tribe."

He also explained the situation of the Painted Dog Tribe.

It is a large tribe among the mountain clans with a population of more than 5,000 people.

They are skilled at training hunting dogs and working with hunters.

"Some hunters in the Painted Dog Tribe are said to have the talent of skinchangers and can see things thousands of miles away by controlling the hunting dogs they have raised since childhood."

After the longbow soldier finished speaking, he poked the black-haired dog's bleeding wound.

"Woof!"

The black-haired dog was full of vitality, still twitching and howling.

Aemon could see the pain and despair in the dog's eyes.

"Are there really skinchangers?"

Rhaenyra was surprised.

skinchangers is a special talent passed down through the bloodline of ancestors.

They can take on the perspective of animals and control their actions.

When she was a child, she mostly heard her father tell her grandfather, the old king, about his legendary experiences.

They say that when her grandfather was young, he visited the Wall of Despair, helped the Night's Watch defeat the wildling army, and burned skinchangers and giants to death.

"Are skinchangers more terrible than dragons?"

Aemon was not surprised and ordered, "Give this hound a quick death."

"Yes!"

Gunthor was quick and broke the neck of the black-haired hound.

Afterwards, the march continued.

Aemon occasionally looked around, trying to find new clues.

He had a hunch that, as the Pyrosmith tribe surrendered, the Black Ear tribe's spies were slow to return.

This aroused the vigilance of the mountain clans, uniting them to face the outside world.

The black-haired terrier that was just there may have had the soul of a skinchanger trapped inside it.

When animals controlled by skinchangers die, the skinchangers will suffer the same fate.

At the very least, they will suffer mental damage; at worst, they will go crazy on the spot.

...

Half a month later...

Not a single mountain clan has been seen, and no tribal villages have been found.

Aemon was sure that the mountain clans had joined forces.

Temporary camp.

Aemon sat on the ground and lit a bonfire in front of him.

"Hiss!"

Syrax flew over the mountains and forests and landed slowly on the ground.

Bang!

Rhaenyra jumped off the dragon's back, holding a hare.

"How was it today?"

Aemon asked, as usual.

Rhaenyra shook her head and replied, "The Moon Mountains are the main site of the mountain clans. They hide in the ravines and can't be found, even by dragon riders."

She knelt by the bonfire and skillfully skinned the hare, emptying its stomach.

After half a month, the princess had also mastered her skills.

Aemon glanced at her and smiled.

In stark contrast, Rhaenyra's black dragon-riding suit was covered in dust, her soft, silver hair was frizzy and tangled, and she lowered her head, preparing lunch seriously.

"You should go back and wash up before coming back."

Aemon kindly reminded her. Rhaenyra looked at her graying, silver-gold hair and blushed. "Is it dirty?"

"I mean, you don't have to endure it."

His remaining conscience wouldn't allow him to see a princess in such a state.

She was almost like a fire maid.

Rhaenyra pursed her lips and said, "You didn't go back. I'm fine like this."

"What do you mean?"

Aemon took the dressed rabbit and grilled it on the campfire.

He didn't like having servants when he was away; they suffered with him.

There was no way around it.

No servant could keep up with the speed of the dragon, so he did it himself.

Rhaenyra straightened her clothes, crawled to Aemon's legs, and lay down. She rested her head on his thighs and looked up at him.

"I feel free. I don't have to worry about the Iron Throne all the time. There are no ministers chattering. It's just you and me."

After a pause, she added, "It would be better if Syrax had a piece of cake."

So, Syrax is equal to a piece of cake?

Aemon laughed dumbly. "You're a princess and the heir to the Iron Throne. You should have something bigger to pursue.

If things continue this way, it would be better for him to sit on the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and said, "I'm the queen and you're the regent. I can ride a dragon and travel the straits, eating as many cakes as I want."

"Are you kidding?"

Aemon frowned. This mentality is not good.

Rhaenyra said indifferently, "I never joke about cakes."

Aemon was silent for a moment and shifted his position: "My legs are numb."

It's a shame he can't make up for his shortcomings.

He didn't value the Iron Throne; to him, it was just an iron chair that cut his hands.

As long as there are dragons and territories, the Iron Throne is just a symbol.

However, as the heir to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra should not have negative feelings about it.

How can she fight against Alicent and the noble class headed by the Green Party?

The Targaryen family will fall sooner or later if it is handed over to her.

"Are you angry?"

Rhaenyra rested her head on her hand.

Aemon opened his mouth, wanting to say, "I'm not angry."

But she felt it was too childish.

When the words came to her lips, she said bluntly, "If you only want to enjoy power without fulfilling your responsibilities, you might as well give up your heir status and become a vassal of little Aegon as soon as possible."

With his three-year-old's stupid look, he would have less of a psychological burden when he raised an army to serve the king.

Rhaenyra was stunned and whispered, "Then do you want to be my vassal?"

"I am not a vassal of anyone, in any form!"

Aemon was very serious.

In the original world, Daemon was her vassal, even though Rhaenyra's quarter flag had the three-headed red dragon emblem representing Daemon.

Still, it was a vassal.

The fate of a vassal is to become a victim if the vassal goes crazy.

Hearing this, Rhaenyra's eyes dimmed, and she seemed at a loss.

She thought the relationship between the two was good enough.

"Think carefully about what the Iron Throne means to you."

Aemon was too lazy to waste his words and put down the half-roasted rabbit.

She would not wake up unless her dream was shattered.

The Iron Throne does not need another "Cruel Maegor," and the Targaryen family must continue.

No one of the eldest uncle's descendants should sit on the Iron Throne.

He doesn't mind taking it.

After all, he is also the blood of "Brave Baelon," the great-grandson of his great-grandfather, the old king.

...

Not long after leaving...

Aemon received a message.

Traces of the activities of the high mountain clan were found in a valley twenty miles to the north.

The patrol team saw the Painted Dog Tribe's mountain dogs on the road.

"Is there anything to pay attention to from the camp to that valley?"

Aemon was very careful and immediately realized that something was wrong.

The messenger said, "Sir Gunthor said there is a narrow mountain road in front of the valley where it's easy to be ambushed."

Aemon nodded suddenly.

Ambushes are the specialty of the mountain clan.

"Notify the army. Send a team down the mountain to change the guards. The rest will search the valley tomorrow."

Aemon gave a decisive order and turned away.

The messenger was stunned for a moment and then hurried to report.

After everyone left, a pair of green eyes appeared in the distance, in the bushes.

A mountain spaniel poked its nose out, sniffed, remembered the smell, and quietly left the bushes.

Soon, it disappeared into the forest.

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