Winter has arrived, and the weather is bitterly cold.
The cold in King's Landing is still bearable, but the cold in the North can freeze a man to death!
The black factory north of King's Landing is surrounded by black high walls, standing majestically beside the Kingsroad. Like a crouching tiger and hidden dragon, although it is a super factory for manufacturing black bricks, it vaguely resembles a small fortress.
In the back are warehouses, drying yards, and water pools; in the front are dormitories and administrative offices.
Coming and going are almost all young soldiers of the Kingsguard; royal escort soldiers in black scale armor guard this not-so-secret factory.
In any era, soldiers and workers are quite similar; they are strong males, and their level of organization is first-class.
Snowflakes began to drift in the sky again, but the snow in King's Landing is still manageable.
The road-paving project to Harrenhal is not significantly affected.
But as one continues further north, the difficulty may increase.
"We still need cotton clothes and charcoal; charcoal is not lacking. As for coal, there should be some stored as well. And in the Neck in the North, there should be some bog coal; we can dig it out to keep people alive!" Rhaegar thought of a way to survive the winter.
Rhaegar stood in the council hall of the factory, surrounded by his confidants Cesar, Barristan, and Jeff.
"The cotton clothes must be made as soon as possible. The soldiers need to have such a coat for winter duty tasks." Rhaegar gave the order to Jeff. He also showed Jeff the simple diagrams: T-shirts for summer and coats for winter—the most suitable attire for Westeros.
The cotton coat he spoke of was a typical military overcoat: black fabric with thickened cotton, equipped with buttons. It blocks the wind and keeps out the cold during the day, and can even be used as a quilt in special circumstances at night.
This era is definitely still primitive. While high-end materials like velvet, bear fur, and cashmere are available, these things are too precious; cotton is more practical.
"As you command, Prince!" Jeff hurriedly noted down the order; this is what military logistics is for.
Rhaegar felt his golden dragons burning fiercely; supporting the army, even a small portion of the money, is a huge number.
After all, the coverage is limited, so it is better to prioritize his elite troops first. Later, other troops or people can be appropriately gifted low-spec versions, or they can be sold on the market.
"Also, since that young master Roose likes moving bricks in the factory, let him continue to stay here and move bricks!" Rhaegar instructed the blond, aquiline-nosed Joffrey Arryn.
"Ah?" Joffrey Arryn's face turned into a bitter expression. For an heir to a high lord to travel thousands of miles from the North to do heavy manual labor—is that not a bit too arduous and demeaning?
"Is it unreasonable? I occasionally fire bricks in the factory myself, don't I?" Rhaegar asked Joffrey Arryn. Beneath his purple eyes, his words carried the weight of law.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Jeff dared not ask any further. The commander's order is final. In this dimension, Rhaegar's greatest identity is that of a warrior, a soldier, and a commander. What a soldier needs is obedience.
"I'd like to see how long Roose can hold out!" Rhaegar thought to himself.
Roose and the wild wolf are of different styles; one is wild, the other is deep.
It is a good thing that Roose can endure hardship.
These soldiers are all Roose's network resources in the South; this is taking root among the masses. Roose will inevitably also be able to learn things from the logistics and military discipline of the Kingsguard and make a correct assessment of the strength of the Iron Throne.
As for how long this kid is willing to learn and how much time he spends, that is his own business.
"Ser, where do you think our most dangerous enemy comes from under the winter?" Rhaegar asked Barristan.
"The situation is very clear, Prince. Winter is a great catastrophe; it is the same for us as it is for our enemies. In the North, there are wildlings; in the West, there are Ironborn; in the East, there are the covetous Sealord of Braavos and the Dothraki khals!"
"Then which place do you think poses the greatest crisis?" Rhaegar was very satisfied with Barristan's answer, so he continued to ask.
"That is hard to say. The wildlings rushing the Wall is merely a temporary fit of anger, and their numbers are limited; the wildlings are all loose, grassroots kings. Even if they manage to rush past the Wall, they will not be able to gain a firm foothold; they are often captured in a single battle once discovered!"
"Therefore, the greatest danger should be from Braavos and the Iron Islands; their naval power is very strong. Don't look at the Old Kraken now as someone who loves peace; back then, King Dagon also 'grabbed the lion's whiskers' in the lion's den and 'tied the direwolf's tail in a knot.' The Ironborn are just like that by nature." Barristan described the current situation.
"Lord Cesar should know more about the situation in Braavos!" Barristan handed the floor to Cesar.
"The Sealord of Braavos does not have the final say. As far as I know, on major issues, the Moonsingers, the naval commander, wealthy merchants, and the lenders of the Iron Bank all have considerable say. Even if they want to go to war, it is a slow rhythm. Although the Sealord has the power to decide, he is very cautious." Cesar pointed out the problem with Braavos. It is completely a case of 'nine dragons governing the water.'
"Prince, are you considering a preemptive strike?" Ser Barristan asked. If that were truly the case, it would be the most insane decision.
"No, no, no. Raising an army out of chaos is an army of anger. What we must do is be a righteous army, with a legitimate cause, upright and dignified. I would rather let them strike first, so we can have a good reputation and the moral high ground." Rhaegar explained.
"We should promote a set of universal values: peace, justice, and civilization. Those who oppose us are evil. We are not just fighting; we are exporting civilization. We are a righteous army with a legitimate cause, representing justice and the civilized world." Rhaegar spoke, and the few men seemed to half-understand.
Rhaegar felt he couldn't explain it clearly to them; they would understand later. War is not just a military conflict; the high ground of public opinion and the moral high ground are also very important. We cannot be like the Valyrian invasion forces, where notoriety is still fame. We are civilized people now; by donning the cloak of civilization and justice, victory will come more easily. It is not just war; we must also peddle our values.
After giving instructions to the few men, Rhaegar rode his dragon and left. In Ghoyan Drohe, there were even more important guests waiting for him.
Rhaegar flew across the sky over the plains of Pentos and arrived at Ghoyan Drohe. The khalasar that had surrendered to him did not enter the city but remained near the waters of the Upper Rhoyne River, using it as a pivot point for grazing.
The dragon landed in Ghoyan Drohe. This small city had slowly regained its vitality—a beautiful, novel little city. Although its military character was the most prominent, most cities in the world are like this. Now the city has regained its vitality and will become increasingly magnificent.
Free folk, Dothraki screamers, Dornish attendants, exiled Rhoynar people, Andals who had fled to seek refuge, adventurers, and merchants all looked up, expressing their submission to the silver dragon and the knight in the sky, praying for the protection of the Dragon King. The Dragon King who conquers the world, the Dragonrider, the triumphant victor of a hundred battles, the Silver Dragon khal, the liberator.
Rhaegar leapt off the silver dragon to go with Oberyn to meet the envoy of the Golden Company.
"Your name, knight!" Rhaegar saw an ugly young man. He had a crooked chin, jug-shaped ears, and the largest nose among anyone Rhaegar had ever seen.
The emblem on his chest was a winged black heart on a golden background, surrounded by a wall-like border. It was an old family on the verge of extinction: House Toyne. Although ancient, it was now dwindling in numbers, and its reputation was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. The matter stemmed from a salacious scandal.
"Myles Toyne, Prince!" Myles Toyne introduced himself to Rhaegar. "If you are interested in the past, you should know this surname!"
"Renowned far and wide, the Kingsguard who had an affair with the old King's mistress!" Rhaegar laughed out loud. This Toyne was indeed not as handsome as his ancestor. Legend had it that the knight who cuckolded the Unworthy King had black hair, was handsome, and his appearance was praised by singers.
"What a thrilling romance, but I heard the old King had slept with about a thousand women; I have to bow down to that. If that's the case, it's quite normal for a woman to cuckold him." The Red Viper also began to quip.
"You also need to pay attention to your personal life, Prince. I heard that you have liaisons with countless women from the Free Cities, and even Dothraki women hit on you." Rhaegar reminded him.
"Life is short, my Prince!" The Red Viper smiled. He did not deny Rhaegar's words; after all, he was a passionate and energetic Dornishman, and a chaotic private life was quite normal. Rhaegar didn't say much more; the Red Viper's promiscuity was truly typical of a Dornishman.
"How should I put it? Lust is like a viper; everyone has been bitten by it once. Impulsive love leads to impulsive endings; this story is not good for anyone." Myles Toyne also laughed. Prince Rhaegar was indeed as magnanimous and easygoing as the legends said, possessing the bearing of a king.
The scandal of Ser Terrence Toyne was a tragedy. This man had an affair with Aegon IV's seventh mistress, Bethany Bracken, and was caught in bed by the King. Although they claimed they were truly in love, Aegon IV killed them anyway. Before she died, Aegon IV even forced the mistress to watch Ser Terrence being dismembered and executed. Ser Terrence's brothers prepared to assassinate Aegon IV to avenge their brother, but Prince Aemon the Dragonrider sacrificed himself to protect the King. Afterwards, the two Toyne brothers were executed for treason, and the Toyne family began its path of decline from then on.
"You came from the Disputed Lands, surely not just to tell me a love story! My lord!" Rhaegar looked at Myles.
"We are tired of wandering and are unwilling to wait endlessly in the Disputed Lands; please allow us to return! Prince!" Myles knelt down and said earnestly.
The Golden Company was now in a state of unrest, and their fortunes were getting worse and worse; the Black Dragon House Blackfyre had all died out. There was no one and no dragon, and waiting any longer would only mean growing old day by day. However, the fortunes of the Red Dragon's main line looked to be in the ascendant; not only did they control the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones, but now they were also reaching into the Rhoyne River basin and the western part of the continent of Essos.
The silver dragon had defeated the Dothraki khal and single-handedly established the Rhoyne River Alliance. Anyone with a discerning eye could see that the silver dragon was expanding in an orderly fashion with Ghoyan Drohe as the center, and was protecting several major Free Cities with his dragon and military force. Now that the trade routes were open, gold and silver were flowing like water into the hands of the silver dragon, which would only become more unpredictable with each passing day.
Now the city-states of the Rhoyne River had seen a more powerful protector. Even if the Golden Company still had contracts to fulfill, sooner or later they would be wiped out by the forces loyal to the Red Dragon, and those rebellious Free Cities might strike first. Rather than that, it would be better to take advantage of their current value to find someone and negotiate a good price.
"Please allow us to surrender! Prince! We are tired of drifting." Myles spoke again.
"This is a major matter! Allow me to consider it! I do not have the final say either!" Rhaegar pondered. This army of ten thousand was indeed good; poaching them would leave the Free Cities without their elite mercenaries. But the homes of these returning exiles had long been divided up; their lands and castles had long been given to others. Would coming back mean restarting the war? Take House Peake, for instance; they only had one castle left out of three.
Rhaegar certainly would not overturn the late King's decisions; that tone had already been set. It was better to consider it first.
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