"Heh, talk about getting exactly what you need when you need it."
After reading the note, Rhaegar shook his head with a smile and handed it to Janny and the others.
Tormund and Erik had stumbled upon the gathering place of the mountain clans while on their way to receive an envoy.
Now, they were lying in wait with their forces nearby, awaiting Rhaegar's orders.
Janny was taken aback and exclaimed excitedly, "Rhaegar, if what's written in this note is true, we can mobilize our army and wipe out the mountain clans completely."
The rebellion was an alliance of multiple clans.
Now that they knew where they were conspiring, they could launch a surprise attack and annihilate them.
However, old Green disagreed and shook his head. "Prince, the location marked on the letter is deep in the mountains. With our current forces, we are no match for the mountain clans in their own terrain."
"My suggestion is to deal with the traitors first and take our time planning the next move."
To him, eliminating House Shett was the highest priority.
Besides, the garrison at Rune Stone was insufficient, and with instability in the rear, victory would be difficult.
"Everyone, we must capture the traitors and eliminate the mountain clans."
Rhaegar's expression was resolute. "Within three days, bring the traitors to me. Three days later, I will personally ride my dragon to suppress the mountain clans."
Three days would be enough time for the Ouroboros to recover from its injuries.
"Rhaegar, your wounds…"
Janny was the first to object, her face filled with concern.
Jensif was already on the brink of life and death from a single arrow wound, and Rhaegar's injuries were even worse. How could he take action so soon?
"That's enough. The decision has been made—do not go against it!"
Rhaegar cut her off with a wave of his hand and looked at everyone sternly. "Carry out your tasks. In three days, we will wipe out the mountain clans!"
He had spent enough time in the Vale.
The mountain clans needed to die. The rebels needed to die.
Everyone exchanged glances. Even Janny, as a duchess, dared not oppose Rhaegar's decision.
One by one, they nodded in agreement.
"Good. Take me back, Rhaenyra."
Rhaegar had no interest in further discussion—he still had to send a reply to Erik.
Rhaenyra looked at Rhaegar, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. Gone was his usual amiability. She said nothing, simply pushing his wheelchair back to the castle.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, Rhaegar slowly disappeared from view.
Unknowingly, he had become the center of power. His words were law.
---
Nightfall
Rhaegar lay in his bedroom, a faint blue glow shimmering across his chest.
The glow traced intricate patterns, forming a strange rune.
*Buzz—*
As the rune took shape, the blue light seemed to condense, as if kneaded and molded by a pair of dexterous hands.
Gradually, it solidified into a diamond-shaped dragon scale, roughly the size of a baby's fist.
The glowing scale floated three inches above Rhaegar's chest.
With a single thought, Rhaegar willed the scale to merge with his skin.
The glow gradually faded, and the scale disappeared beneath his flesh.
All that remained was an intricate, dragon-scale-shaped mark on his skin, like a finely crafted tattoo.
"Whew… Finally, the first Bronze Rune is complete."
Rhaegar let out a deep breath and ran his fingers over the scale-shaped mark on his chest.
He had successfully inscribed a Bronze Rune, shaping it into the form of a dragon scale and embedding it into his skin.
Taking out a dagger, he pressed the blade against the rune and slashed.
*Buzz—*
The blue scale reappeared, blocking the edge of the blade and preventing any harm to his flesh.
Seeing this, Rhaegar was overjoyed.
"An excellent lifesaving technique!"
For now, he only had a single Bronze Rune, which could only protect his chest.
But as he inscribed more over time, he would eventually form a complete set of rune armor.
By then, ordinary blades would no longer be able to harm him.
"Time to continue."
Rhaegar yawned but forced himself to stay awake.
The Bronze Rune was more exhausting than he had anticipated.
The Ouroboros consumed a great deal of magic.
The Bronze Rune, in contrast, drained his mental energy.
At his current state, he could only inscribe three runes per day before his mind became too fatigued.
---
King's Landing
Lately, the city had been abuzz with rumors.
Former Hand of the King Otto Hightower had returned to King's Landing and rejoined the Small Council as the Master of Laws.
He was accompanied by High Septon Max of the Faith of the Seven, who had received a warm welcome from both the King and Queen.
Otto's first order of business was to support the city's orphanages and aid the impoverished.
High Septon Max provided manpower, leading his followers in distributing food and tending to the sick and wounded.
---
For a time, the poor citizens of King's Landing all expressed their gratitude for the Minister of Public Welfare's generosity and praised the Faith of the Seven.
**Flea Bottom.**
Figures clad in black robes stepped into the district, slipping through the streets and alleys under the cover of night.
Two figures arrived at the brightly lit entrance of a brothel, hiding in the shadows as they observed.
"Girl, are you confident?"
One of the robed figures pulled back their hood, revealing wavy brown hair and a confident smile.
The other lifted her head, her hood concealing a delicate face of foreign origin.
The foreign girl remained composed. "I have a name—Sara!"
"That doesn't matter. All men must die."
Xilieu chuckled, his eyes fixed on the foreign girl.
Sara's expression remained blank as she replied, "Don't test me. I no longer belong to that cursed place."
"Indeed. You are now in Westeros, serving a prince."
Xilieu raised an eyebrow, seemingly with a hint of regret.
"I'm a failure. Don't bring it up again."
Pulling her hood back up, Sara turned toward the brothel's back entrance, her voice icy. "All men must serve."
Xilieu watched her back as she left and murmured, "A talented girl."
Moments later, screams erupted from inside the brothel.
Sara emerged from another corner, wiping a bloodstained dagger against her robe. With swift efficiency, she said, "Let's go. I slit the throat of that fat pig who preyed on children."
"Excellent."
Xilieu smiled in satisfaction and pulled his hood back up.
The two figures melted into the pitch-black alleys.
By the next day, the news would spread throughout King's Landing—the High Septon of the Faith had been assassinated in a brothel.
More importantly, his clients that night had been two children, no older than ten.
A boy and a girl.
---
**Three Days Later.**
**The Vale, Runestone.**
Wooden crosses lined the courtyard of the castle, each bearing the stripped bodies of men and women.
Their faces were ashen with despair, yet their well-groomed hair and pale, unweathered skin betrayed their once comfortable lives.
Joffrey, now marked by a fresh scar across his face, stood in the courtyard, pointing at them one by one as he called out names.
"Ser Uther Shett of Gulltown, his son Yohn Shett, Ser Addison Tollett of Grey Glen, Ser Gonsor Royce…"
Behind Joffrey stood Gerold, Jeyne, Old Gryn, and others.
This was a feast of retribution against the traitors.
**Clap. Clap. Clap.**
A round of applause rang out as the castle gates swung open.
A tall figure stepped forward.
His long hair was tied back, and he was clad in black armor—Rhaegar.
A slight smirk played on Rhaegar's lips as he called out, "Lords, thank you for waiting!"
Compared to three days ago, he looked much better.
Though still pale and shadowed by dark circles, his presence was commanding as ever.
**"Screeeech!"**
A dragon's roar echoed through the sky.
The massive black beast circled above Runestone, spewing eerie green dragonfire.
It had sensed its rider's emotions and unleashed its wrath in advance.
*(End of Chapter.)*