"Rhaenyra, I'm here to help you!"
Jeyne's hoarse voice rang out.
Rhaenyra turned her head and saw Jeyne struggling up the hillside, supporting the unconscious Jeyseph.
"How is she?"
Though she didn't genuinely care, Rhaenyra forced a smile and asked.
"She's fine, just weak from blood loss," Jeyne replied, her expression dazed as she gently laid Jeyseph on the ground before moving to help Rhaegar.
Rhaegar glanced at her.
His eyes were vacant, his body trembling slightly—a clear sign of severe shock.
"Be careful, don't pull on his wound," Jeyne cautioned as she carefully held Rhaegar's arm, her eyes never leaving him.
She had just witnessed Rhaegar single-handedly hold off the Mountain Clans.
She had even drawn her dagger, preparing to take her own life alongside her friend the moment Rhaegar fell.
Old Gods be praised—she had been spared today.
The flash of swords, the spray of blood, the flames swirling around them…
Rhaegar had fought to the bitter end, the dragon's fire had reduced the Mountain Clans to ashes, and she had survived.
Jeyne's entire worldview had been shattered and trampled upon.
All that remained in her mind was the sight of Rhaegar standing alone, fighting against impossible odds.
"This is a miracle!"
Jeyne clung tighter to Rhaegar's arm, seeking more comfort and security.
After much effort, Rhaegar was finally laid flat on the Glutton's back.
The saddle was no longer suitable for him—it would only worsen his injuries.
Rhaenyra and Jeyne stepped off the dragon's back and then lifted Jeyseph up onto it.
Syrax, slower than the Glutton, was still on its way back.
Seated in the saddle, Rhaenyra spoke earnestly: "Glutton, fly back to Runestone. Keep it steady."
"Roar..."
The Glutton let out a low growl, slowly straightened its body, and flapped its wings to take off smoothly.
Its rider was severely injured—it knew what to do.
Behind the saddle, Rhaegar and Jeyseph lay on the dragon's back, while Jeyne sat between them, holding each of their hands.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to overcome her fear of heights, gripping their hands firmly.
In truth, she was overthinking it.
The Glutton was a fully grown dragon with a broad back and steady flight—there was no danger at all.
---
### Runestone
The castle's outer gates were tightly shut. Soldiers stood atop the walls, firing arrows and dropping rolling logs and stones.
Below the walls, swarms of Mountain Clan warriors gathered.
Armed with crude ladders and makeshift battering rams, they chaotically slammed against the castle gates.
"Don't stop with the rolling logs! Bring up the fire oil!"
Ser Gerold stood atop the battlements, clad in full plate armor, shouting orders.
"Ser Gerold, we don't have enough soldiers at the gates!"
Leicester Waynwood hurried over to report the situation.
"Send a unit to reinforce them, now!"
Gerold's face was covered in blood as he bellowed out commands.
An hour earlier…
Most of the wedding guests had been poisoned and collapsed during the feast.
A dozen Mountain Clan warriors had infiltrated the castle through a secret passage, intending to kill the survivors.
Fortunately, Gerold and several other knights of the Vale had not gone down easily and had engaged in brutal combat.
Upstairs, Leicester and Ser Joffrey had heard the commotion and rushed to assist, working with Gerold to eliminate the attackers.
They barely had time to catch their breath before a massive horde of Mountain Clansmen appeared outside Runestone.
The castle's guards had immediately shut the gates and taken defensive positions.
An hour had passed. The Mountain Clans had suffered heavy casualties but showed no sign of retreating.
Gerold grabbed a messenger and demanded, "Has the raven for reinforcements reached Gulltown?"
The nearest and strongest ally was Gulltown.
Lord Grafton's father and his grandchildren were inside Runestone—if the raven had delivered the message, reinforcements would arrive soon.
"The raven was sent out, my lord," the messenger confirmed.
Gerold released him, reassured.
The Royces of Runestone were among the most powerful noble houses in the Vale.
Their castle was as strong as a fortress, and they commanded several hundred knights and three thousand soldiers.
However, Lord Yohn Royce had taken a large portion of the army to support the defense of Longbow Hall, leaving only about a thousand men to guard Runestone.
Beyond the walls, the Mountain Clans raged in a frenzy, their numbers forming a dark, seething mass.
Gerold, still reeling from the recent loss of his wife, was now facing his first large-scale battle, and anxiety gnawed at him.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A battering ram slammed repeatedly against the castle gates.
The soldiers above poured boiling oil down, followed by volleys of flaming arrows.
The oil ignited instantly, and the siege engine was engulfed in flames, along with the nearby Mountain Clansmen.
Agonized screams filled the air as the stench of burning flesh and blood soaked the battlefield.
"Attack! Climb the city walls for me!"
A hideous, burly man climbed the ladder, shouting for more tribal warriors to follow.
His name was Shaka, the eldest son of the chieftain of the Stone Raven Tribe.
He had two younger brothers who had been sent on separate missions.
The defending soldiers kept throwing rolling logs and stones while pouring fire oil to ignite blazes.
But they couldn't withstand the overwhelming numbers of the Highland Tribe. As soon as ladders were set up, they climbed relentlessly.
The walls of Rune Stone City stood only seven or eight meters high, making it inevitable that one or two enemies would slip through and climb up.
"Kill!"
Jero drew his sword, slashing down a Highland warrior who had reached the top. He hurried back and forth to provide support.
But no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't stop the Highland warriors from climbing up all over the wall.
Before long, more than a dozen Highland warriors made it over, killing nearby soldiers and causing chaos.
Jero's face turned pale with shock as he led his men to counterattack.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Suddenly, a deep, thunderous dragon roar echoed from the distance.
Everyone on the battlefield froze in place, turning their gaze to the sky.
A pitch-black dragon burst through the clouds, diving straight toward Rune Stone City.
Boom—!
The massive dragon spewed eerie green flames, sweeping across the battlefield from the rear. Agonized screams filled the air wherever the flames touched.
"Hiss—Gah!"
Another sharp dragon roar rang out as a golden dragon followed closely behind, unleashing a stream of golden fire.
"No! What are these monsters?! Run!"
The sight of the dragons' flames shattered the Highland warriors' morale. Overcome with terror, they abandoned their weapons and fled in disarray.
"Burn them all!"
Perched atop the gluttonous black dragon, Rhaenyra's face was twisted with hatred as she continuously commanded, "Dragonfire!"
The two dragons, one black and one gold, soared above the battlefield, weaving streams of fire through the enemy ranks, mercilessly slaughtering them.
The Highland warriors were countless, stretching as far as the eye could see.
But Rhaenyra, with just her two dragons, relentlessly pursued them.
She and Rhaegar had nearly died at the hands of these savages. Every single Highland warrior would pay in blood and fire.
"Help! Somebody, save me!"
"Aahhh!"
The Highland warriors scattered in terror, but the dragons chased them down, raining fire upon them again and again.
In mere moments, the land surrounding Rune Stone City was reduced to scorched earth, leaving nothing but devastation behind.
Countless Highland warriors perished. Only a few managed to escape into valleys and forests, while the rest were consumed by dragonfire.
Rhaenyra's eyes burned with fury, her tears long dried on her face.
"Rhaenyra, stop chasing them!"
Janie clung tightly to Rhaegar and Jancef on the dragon's back, her voice filled with panic.
They still had wounded allies to care for.
"Gently, Janie,"
Rhaegar, his face deathly pale, grasped her trembling hand.
Burning the Highland warriors to ash was exactly what he wanted, but the pain from his wounds was starting to become unbearable.
Rhaenyra snapped back to reality at the sound of his voice, her gaze shifting worriedly toward the saddle behind her.
"Glutton, land in Rune Stone City!"
Rhaegar patted the pitch-black scales beneath him, giving the command.
(End of Chapter)