"High as Honor!"
"Long live The Eyrie!"
"Long live House Arryn!"
"Savages, the noble knights have arrived."
It was the Vale Knights; Duke Jon's reinforcements had arrived.
Rhaegar saw the cavalrymen of The Vale of Arryn shouting slogans. Wielding meteor hammers, longswords, spears, blunt axes, and spiked maces, they charged into the Mountain Clansmen like a storm.
The Vale Knights bypassed the front-end barricade of boulders and timber and rushed into the High Clansmen group to rescue the Prince and the Eagle Guards soldiers.
The mountain path was rugged and constantly changing, but fortunately, the outcome wasn't too bad yet.
The blue and white cavalry crisscrossed the field, splitting the battleground. This was now the High Clansmen's nightmare.
The Vale Knights made the battlefield boil. Fresh and rested, they mercilessly harvested the savages, who let out cries of sorrow and rage everywhere they went, like wheat.
Rhaegar noticed that the battlefield was saturated with colors: blue, white, red, silver, and black.
There were blue and white Crescent Falcon banners, Crescent Falcon sigils, sky-blue cloaks, silver and black armor, and bright red blood flowing everywhere.
Today, Rhaegar saw the full might of the Knights of The Vale of Arryn; their reputation was truly well-deserved.
The Vale Knights were renowned throughout the age.
Rhaegar breathed a sigh of relief. With the Vale Knights entering as the reserve force, the battle's outcome was decided.
Duke Jon led the knights' reinforcement, sealing the victory.
The battle had lasted too long. The willpower and stamina of both the Mountain Clansmen and the Eagle Guards had reached their limits.
The Mountain Clansmen charged repeatedly, draining the Eagle Guards' stamina and will significantly.
Even though Rhaegar possessed the Blood of Fire, repeatedly drawing the Dragonbone Greatbow and dodging the savages' arrows and falling stones also caused him immense exhaustion.
Brynden, Cesar, Barristan, and the others were also exhausted.
Rhaegar was still relatively fine; the other Eagle Guards members were holding on by sheer force of will. Without the Fire Seed, Rhaegar would have collapsed long ago.
A battlefield is simply about who can laugh last. Faster, stronger, fiercer.
The Eagle Guards soldiers fighting in the pool of blood were instantly invigorated; with the arrival of fresh forces, the tide of battle reversed immediately.
"Long live Prince Rhaegar! Long live Duke Jon!" We survived, the Eagle Guards shouted excitedly. They picked up their weapons and charged forward too.
The Mountain Clansmen, who had been trying to tighten their encirclement, were now undergoing a complete rout.
The flowers of blood bloomed, and the savages' encirclement was completely torn apart.
Rhaegar led the Eagle Guards charging outward, while the Vale Knights on the outer ring fiercely assaulted the savage forces. The inner and outer forces converged, bursting the center, and the Mountain Clansmen army dissolved into chaos.
The battlefield turned into a one-sided slaughter. The Vale Knights and the Eagle Guards mercilessly crushed the enemy, a campaign that would prevent the Mountain Clansmen from having the vitality to raid for decades.
Everyone had dropped their longbows. The Eagle Guards charged forward, wielding long shields, short spears, and longswords.
Rhaegar rode his horse, trampling through the bloody mud, over the corpses of savages and ponies, his longsword flashing wildly. Barristan, Brynden, Jeff, and Cesar all followed Rhaegar.
The battlefield was bloody and ruthless; Death treated everyone equally.
Rhaegar, after all, came from a family of great warriors. He charged relentlessly through flesh, bone, and mud.
The Knights of The Vale of Arryn and Rhaegar's Eagle Guards joined forces. The battlefield was completely pacified, and a few major targets were captured.
Aside from a few who managed to escape, Rhaegar achieved a great victory in this campaign.
"Prince, you must be shaken!" Duke Jon jumped off his horse and stood beside Rhaegar.
Duke Jon removed his eagle-shaped helmet. The helmet featured eagle wings on both sides and a face mask, leaving only a narrow slit. The golden helmet was coated with a layer of blue, adorned with a circle of crystal and diamonds, and topped by a Furious Winged Falcon, soaring with expensive sapphire eyes.
Duke Jon's magnificent armor also made Rhaegar's eyes light up. Duke Jon was covered head to toe in heavy steel armor, which also featured copper plates to protect the joints, all painted blue and white. Flying Falcons were also fastened on his shoulders, securing the sky-blue cloak.
Rhaegar saw a hint of anxiety and fear in Duke Jon's expression. The battlefield changes rapidly, and he hadn't expected eight or nine hundred savages to mobilize simultaneously—this was a massive operation. If anything had happened to Rhaegar, The Vale would certainly have been in huge trouble.
"Duke, you arrived just in time," Rhaegar said to Duke Jon. He couldn't very well curse the Duke for being late, Arryn. If the eagle god hadn't blessed him, and if he hadn't foreseen the danger of the battlefield, ten of him would have been pierced by stray arrows and shattered stones.
The battlefield is ever-changing, and weapons have no eyes. Stray arrows, shattered stones, traps, mudslides, and unclean water—several previous Dukes of Arryn mysteriously died on the battlefield.
"Congratulations, Prince. You achieved a great victory. By leading from the front, you possess the Soul of a Knight," Duke Jon said admiringly.
Duke Jon's expression was complex, showing both fear and pleasant surprise. But there was no doubt that the greatest heroes of this campaign were Rhaegar and his Eagle Guards. Throughout history, the highest military honor goes to those who charge first and break the lines. They were reckless, but they held on until the reserve forces charged.
Rhaegar still felt a sense of dread. The war came too fast and too fiercely, making it impossible to predict. The most terrifying thing was the possibility of someone leaking information.
Regardless, a victory, even a flawed one, is still a victory. Furthermore, the spoils of victory were substantial enough.
Rhaegar looked around. All the warriors—the Eagle Guards, those from The Vale, Brynden Tully, and Barristan—showed respect. Standing firm as a rock against the savage assault and holding out until now, the Prince's great victory was glorious enough.
A general must lead soldiers to victory; victory can silence all opposition. Being too young or having a reckless plan are non-issues in the face of victory. As long as Rhaegar continues to win, the soldiers will naturally pledge their unwavering loyalty.
"Rhaegar the Victor!" Duke Jon raised Rhaegar's hand and shouted loudly. The handsome youth was covered in blood and dust. His silver hair smelled of blood, and his face and black enamel armor were smeared with gore.
"Long live Prince Rhaegar!"
"Long live Prince Rhaegar!"
"Lucky Rhaegar!"
The soldiers drew their swords, and their voices echoed across the battlefield. In this moment, Rhaegar felt as if he were being crowned king.
Rhaegar was a Targaryen giant, and also a great true dragon.
The battlefield was being cleared sequentially, and the quartermasters began reporting the great results.
Umar of the Moon Men tribe is dead!
The leaders of the Stone Crows tribe, the Black Ears tribe, and the Milk Snakes tribe escaped with a few savages!
Thrimm, the leader of the Burned Men tribe, was captured alive!
There were still over eight hundred corpses on the scene.
"My brothers have died!" Rhaegar noted the Eagle Guards' losses: three guards were killed by stray arrows or weapons during the confrontation, and one guard unfortunately fell from his horse and broke his neck. Although the casualty ratio was small, Rhaegar still felt profound sorrow.
Warriors died for me.
Rhaegar took off his sky-blue cloak and covered the corpses of the fallen guards. Barristan, Cesar, and Ser Brynden also handed him their cloaks.
Rhaegar showed compassion. Those grass-like warriors would remain forever green. The battlefield was cruel, and soldiers deserved compassion all the more.
"I want to duel you, child of the Demon Dragon Chieftain," One-Eared Thrimm suddenly shouted, using all his strength. His voice was rough. The soldiers pressed their spears against his neck, awaiting only the Prince's command.
"I want to fight you!" said One-Eared Thrimm. The nine hundred savages he brought were nearly all dead or wounded. After such a massive loss, he could not possibly return to his tribe.
Rhaegar looked at Thrimm. He was missing an ear but possessed twice the madness of a normal man. Thrimm's face was rough and dark, and the Shadow Lynx cloak he wore was now tattered. Although he was physically uninjured, he was utterly exhausted.
"You are in no position to bargain with me," Rhaegar said.
"If you defeat me, you can kill or torture me as you wish. If I win, you grant me safe passage," Thrimm said.
"I am heading to the Fire Priestess's Holy Land," Rhaegar walked forward, looking at the savage leader whose face was pressed into the mud.
"Fine! But my longsword is full of nicks. Give me a good sword," Thrimm gritted his teeth.
"Give him a sword."
"Prince, I am the White Knight. Allow me to take your place?" Barristan asked.
Rhaegar waved his hand, signaling him to step back.
Thrimm drew the sword, and the blade thrust forward from a very tricky angle.
The longsword was steady, accurate, and vicious. It was like a venomous snake appearing suddenly in the vast wilderness.
As a Red Hand, Thrimm also possessed the aptitude of a first-rate warrior.
But he was already at the end of his rope, and facing him was Rhaegar, who could regenerate using the Fire Seed.
Rhaegar blocked fiercely. His sword edge was faster and fiercer than Thrimm's. Rhaegar countered with a wild chop; Thrimm's palm stung, and his longsword was knocked down into the mud.
"You won, kid," Thrimm said, his face ashen. He had nothing left to cling to.
The path to the Dragon Lair has been opened.
Rhaegar obtained the key through blood and fire.