"Is your Dragon just for decoration?"
That single sentence, spoken in High Valyrian, left young Lingor completely stunned.
It took him quite a while to understand what his father meant. The boy immediately sprang out of Dragonzel's embrace. For a moment, he stammered helplessly, unable to form a complete sentence.
"Father... Dragons... Dragons aren't meant to be used like that, are they?"
Dragonzel chuckled and pulled his son back into his arms.
"Dragons are our companions, not our tools."
Vermithor seemed to sense that it was being discussed and let out a low, contented rumble, forcing Dragonzel to free one hand to gently stroke his companion's neck.
"What were you thinking just now, Lingor?"
"Blood and fire," Lingor answered blankly. "Father... you don't mean for me to ride a Dragon and burn all those parasites, do you? But..."
"Dragons are weapons. They are deterrents. They are our kin and companions—but they are also much more than that," Dragonzel explained with a smile.
"In the history of Westeros, the most stable and prosperous era for the smallfolk was during the reign of King Jaehaerys I. The scars left by King Maegor gradually healed, outdated institutions were abolished, and the common people gained more rights. Even today, whenever people praise a good king, they still compare him to Jaehaerys. Do you know why?"
Lingor thought for a long moment before quietly replying,
"Brother Jacaerys... and King Jaehaerys... both preferred traveling the realm to remaining inside castles and palaces."
"A Dragon's greatest weapons are not merely Dragonfire and sharp teeth," Dragonzel said approvingly. "It also has wings."
Dragonzel was very pleased by his son's sharp insight.
That was indeed the truth.
A Dragon's value was not limited to its destructive power.
Its true value was that it allowed its rider to travel from one corner of the realm to another in an incredibly short time.
"Lingor, one day you will inherit everything from me."
Dragonzel sighed softly.
"I'll take you flying across our realm much more often in the future."
"When you descend unexpectedly upon a place aboard a Dragon, you will witness the truth with your own eyes and hear the truth with your own ears. Only then can you truly solve its problems."
Patiently, he explained another meaning behind Dragons.
Yes, Dragons could burn the disloyal and the greedy.
But that was simply tyranny.
However...
If Lingor regularly toured the realm on Dragonback—even if he merely appeared without doing anything—those who exploited the people or violated the law would still be forced to behave themselves.
That was another purpose of Dragons.
It was precisely because King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne constantly flew throughout the Seven Kingdoms that the people enjoyed peace and prosperity while the nobility scarcely dared abuse their authority.
Likewise, when Prince Jacaerys flew throughout the realm after the Dance of the Dragons, the local nobility found themselves compelled, under the pressure of two Dragons, to share more authority with their liege lords.
Even so, Jacaerys still possessed much of Jaehaerys's governing style.
Whenever he resolved disputes among the smallfolk, he never excessively pressured the nobility into surrendering too many of their rights.
Because of that, even many nobles sincerely respected him.
To this very day, both Jacaerys and Jaehaerys were remembered as wise rulers in the history of House Targaryen.
Lingor nodded.
Although he only half understood everything, as he gazed at the twinkling stars above, he gradually drifted asleep in his father's embrace.
Dragonzel, however, continued staring silently into the night sky, lost in thought.
The Vale, the Gates of the Moon
Edric Arryn glared defiantly at Joffrey Arryn, as well as the fully armed Ser Corwyn Corbray and Lord Artys Royce standing before him.
The defeated falcon had been tightly bound with thick ropes, completely disregarding both his noble birth and his status as a kinsman of the ruling House.
"Joffrey! What is the meaning of this?"
Edric Arryn roared.
"You have no right to arrest me!
"I demand to see Lady Jeyne!"
"Edric."
Lord Artys Royce spoke calmly.
"The Faceless Men you hired have already been executed."
He cautiously glanced toward the shadows of the castle walls, as though expecting something to emerge from them.
Feeling the reassuring weight of the ancient runes engraved upon his bronze armor, Artys continued,
"What else do you have to say?
"Attempting to murder your liege lady and her lawful heir is the highest form of treason."
"Artys, that's complete nonsense!"
Edric panicked.
How could this young Lord of Runestone know he had hired the Faceless Men?
He had concealed everything perfectly.
Even selling portions of House Arryn's property in Gulltown to raise the necessary payment had been disguised as overseas trade conducted through the Iron Bank of Braavos.
"Seven Hells!
"Lady Jeyne is my own kin!
"Why would I ever harm her?"
"Really?"
Artys Royce slowly crouched before him.
Beside him, Ser Corwyn Corbray expressionlessly drew Lady Forlorn, his Valyrian steel longsword, and rested its blade against Edric's neck.
Edric instantly froze in terror.
Artys Royce still found it difficult to believe what he himself had witnessed only a few days earlier.
Only days ago...
The Vale, birthplace of the Andals, had once again erupted into conflict.
Its fertile valleys and rich mountain pastures had, since the Age of Heroes, produced generations of renowned warrior-kings.
After the Andals crossed the Narrow Sea, the Bronze Kings—the ancient rulers of the Mountains of the Moon and the Fingers—had resisted them for many years.
Only after the Battle of the Seven Stars did Artys Arryn, the legendary Falcon Knight, finally defeat them.
The proud First Men of the Vale either submitted beneath House Arryn's falcon banner or fled into the Mountains of the Moon.
There they multiplied and eventually became the greatest threat the Vale had faced for nearly a thousand years—
the Mountain Clans.
Throughout those centuries, countless sons of House Arryn had died beneath the stone spears and bone weapons of those clansmen.
Even Lady Jeyne Arryn's own father and brother had perished at their hands.
Only a few days earlier...
Those very same Mountain Clans had once again risen in rebellion.
Lady Jeyne personally rode out to oversee the campaign.
During the battle, she was ambushed.
One of the clansmen hurled a deadly spear directly at her.
Fortunately...
Before the spear reached its target, the attacker himself was slain, causing the missile to miss Lady Jeyne entirely.
At first, both Artys and Joffrey believed it had merely been chance.
Only afterward did one of the knights suddenly reveal the horrifying truth.
That so-called Mountain Clansman had actually been a Faceless Man.
He had infiltrated the Vale long ago, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to disguise himself as a clansman and assassinate Lady Jeyne.
Fortunately...
With the assistance of the two Faceless Men Dragonzel had sent—both future apprentices and assistants to Qhungul Potter—Lady Jeyne ultimately survived the assassination attempt.
Edric Arryn immediately became the prime suspect.
Investigations also revealed that an enormous amount of wealth had recently disappeared from his family's accounts.
Who else could it possibly have been?
Only Edric.
Edric still wanted to argue.
But it no longer mattered.
There was already sufficient evidence.
More importantly...
With Lady Jeyne surviving the assassination, the succession of the Vale had finally become completely secure.
Therefore...
Edric had to die.
Without the slightest hesitation, Ser Corwyn Corbray swung Lady Forlorn.
The Valyrian steel blade flashed once.
Edric Arryn's head rolled across the ground until it stopped at Joffrey Arryn's feet.
"Lady Jeyne dislikes witnessing scenes like this."
Joffrey shook his head, showing no interest in watching the execution.
He instead turned directly toward Lord Artys Royce.
"Lord Artys..."
"What conditions did Prince Dragonzel put forward?"
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