Rhaegar and Lord Jon stood together at the front.
In blood and fire, Rhaegar earned more respect. Some respect came from lineage and crown, some from sword and courage. Knights loved the clang of steel more than books and candles.
In a knightly country like Westeros, a king had to be a strong warrior to gain more respect. The sword was also a form of truth.
Rhaegar felt there was no helping it; some people just preferred their monarch to be a lion, capable of intimidating everything.
The Vale Knights no longer resisted the young lord and Lord Jon riding forth, because Prince Rhaegar had displayed his fortitude, bravery, compassion, and might before them. Prince Rhaegar was also a born knight.
"Prince, we need to wait a moment; there are two hundred more cavalry reinforcements coming," Lord Jon said to Rhaegar. Four hundred heavy cavalry was already a large force.
Rhaegar agreed. If they were to sweep through the mountains again to clear out the Burned Men tribe's sacred land, they would need more men. He gestured to Cesar, Barristan, and the others, instructing the Eagle Guards to rest and resupply.
Speed was of the essence. The Mountain Clansmen were already terrified, so it was the perfect time to press the attack. Once they recovered and set ambushes in The Pale Mountains, it would be difficult to enter.
"Are there still dragons?" Rhaegar asked.
Thrimm shook his head. "No dragons, no Fire Priestess, but the rules remain. We will still undergo the trial by fire."
Rhaegar thought it was understandable that the Burned Men tribe fiercely suppressed other tribes; they were too ruthless, with a strong self-abusive tendency.
Regarding the dragons' deaths, Rhaegar thought it was normal. The foothills of The Pale Mountains were rocky, high, and desolate, with snow on the peaks. This place was truly too barren. The wildlings were all malnourished; how could they feed an old dragon for so many years? And with the decline of magic, dragon lifespans also shortened.
Dragons grew larger with age, their movements slowed, and they preferred to sleep lazily, making it difficult to fly. If Sheepstealer were still alive, the Burned Men tribe should have been completely devoured.
Thrimm's face was pained. He had thought too much and too shallowly, leading to the collapse of the war and heavy casualties for his clan.
What Thrimm hadn't anticipated was the variable that was Rhaegar. If Rhaegar hadn't resisted the assault, hadn't possessed formidable physical strength and will, hadn't been tempered by the fire seed, or had had a stroke of bad luck and fallen from his horse, Thrimm would have achieved a perfect victory. Yet, through multiple volleys of arrows, Rhaegar remained completely unscathed.
Thrimm would have swallowed the Eagle Guards, gained their superior equipment and weapons, and then had the chance to annihilate Lord Jon's forces.
Rhaegar observed the fighting style of the Vale Knights. Apart from slightly better armor and extensive experience in charging formations, they were no different from other armies. It still came down to economic level and population connections; the knights of the Westerlands, Stormlands, and The Vale had greater numbers and better equipment. The barbarians of the North didn't like this approach; true men fought hard battles.
Rhaegar also noticed that there weren't many longbow knights. Knights loved longswords and great spears more than longbows; most knights were like this. Few would organize a specialized longbow unit like Bloodraven. Bloodraven's love for the longbow only increased people's hatred for him; the Lord represented darkness, coldness, and cunning, like a longbow.
Rhaegar looked at the Vale Knights and thought, 'I should organize a diversified force. Proficient in longbows and long spears.' The key was still people and equipment. People needed training, and for equipment, dragonbone bows were best, followed by great bows made of goldenwood, weirwood, and yew, and Essos horn bows were also good.
"Prince, I have something I want to ask Thrimm!" Lord Jon said, his brows tightly furrowed, as if recalling a cruel story.
Rhaegar stepped back a few paces, leaving only Lord Jon and a few personal knights.
The war came quickly and ended quickly, leaving only devastation.
The other knights had already joined the large group controlling captives, counting corpses, and plundering valuables.
However, the Mountain Clansmen were truly too poor; these paupers really had nothing of value on them.
Rhaegar wisely walked further away; he knew what Lord Jon wanted to ask. If something shameful had truly happened, Lord Jon's honor would have been dragged through the mud. It was best to stay away during such an awkward moment.
Rhaegar only saw from a distance that Lord Jon's face grew increasingly grim, as if shrouded by dark clouds. There was a mole in The Gate of the Moon, and a high-ranking one at that.
The remaining Vale Knights also rushed over. Their equipment was slightly inferior, not as elite as Lord Jon's vanguard, with thin armor or even half-armor.
"Cut off these heads! We'll tar them and hang them up when we get back!"
"Tie up the remaining wildlings with ropes. The Fingers still need increased coastal defenses, and these wildlings cannot be wasted."
Lord Jon's tone was cold. For the Mountain Clansmen, hatred would make them remember more than love.
"Leave the body of that dead chieftain for me first," Rhaegar said, having thought of something.
Amidst the scent of blood, the troops set off again.
Rhaegar noticed Lord Jon's extremely grim expression; what Thrimm had said had deeply affected him, as if a falcon had been ravaged by a gale.
The group headed north, with Thrimm tied to a lean horse, leading the way.
Rhaegar and his party ascended and descended, the mountain path rugged and winding, passing over rocks, wild trees, and dirt. The sky offered beautiful flowing clouds, while the land below was desolate and ancient. 'Running a horse to death in the mountains' — perhaps only the Mountain Clansmen could endure such a life.
The wildling tribes were terrified and had no time to react.
They traveled a distance until Rhaegar and his companions saw a desolate camp, hidden deep within the mountains and difficult to spot. The fleeing Burned Men tribe wildlings had abandoned their tribe to escape, without even a single person left to guard it. Even if Rhaegar and his group hadn't swept through, other tribes would have come to plunder the Burned Men tribe, taking advantage of the chaos.
Following Thrimm's guidance, Rhaegar saw a hidden cave on the majestic hill above the camp, with scattered bones at the cave entrance.
"We're here!" Rhaegar's heart pounded with excitement and joy.
Rhaegar excitedly moved forward to the entrance of the hidden cave and immediately felt the intense heat of flames, making it difficult to approach. This temperature truly made one suspect a dragon was still alive.
It turned out that a large pit had been dug at the cave entrance, filled with so much fuel that a raging fire had been burning continuously, seemingly never extinguished. The wall of fire was about two meters wide, completely blocking the cave entrance.
The Burned Men tribe had thrown wood, charcoal, coal, and some kind of animal oil into this fire, keeping it burning fiercely.
"Little imp, aren't you going to the sacred land? Go on in, this is the Fire Priestess's last spark!" Thrimm suddenly laughed.
The flames spewed by the great dragon before its death had been preserved by the Burned Men tribe until now. They swore by fire and showed their courage to it, burning off fingers and ears.
Rhaegar glanced at the wild flames and said to Barristan, "Get some main structural timbers, and make sure they're wet."
Barristan and the others brought Rhaegar thick, water-soaked timbers, about the size of a bowl, which were actually the main support beams from the wildlings' homes.
"Prince, there's no need to be too hasty. Should we let the soldiers come together?" Barristan asked. Ser Brynden also nodded.
The wall of fire was thick and hot, difficult to deal with quickly. Sweat was dripping down.
Rhaegar shook his head and directly thrust the timber into the flames. The sparks crackled and roared, some even singeing Rhaegar's hair.
Thrimm's smile gradually froze. He saw Rhaegar completely unharmed, repeatedly striking the sacred fire with large timbers.
The Blood of Fire could withstand short periods of high temperatures.
Rhaegar swung the large timber in front of the cave, and the wall of fire loosened more and more. The sparks flew, the temperature was scorching, but it did not deter him. In the dust and smoke, he knocked away the sparks and charcoal.
"You are the King of Fire!"
"You do not fear flames, for flames obey you. You are the King of Fire!" Thrimm suddenly roared, his face filled with humility and fanaticism.
Barristan, Brynden, Cesar, and the others exchanged glances. It seemed the Prince possessed some Dragon King characteristics.
The few of them also stepped forward to help, followed by the main force bringing up water. The wall of fire, the sacred fire of the Burned Men tribe, was completely destroyed.
Rhaegar impatiently rushed into the cave until he saw the massive dragon skeleton.
The monstrous dragon skeleton lay deep within the cave, its pale eye sockets and enormous frame representing past glory.