Rhaegor and his companions arrived at Harrenhal, weary and covered in dust.
Even from a great distance, Rhaegor could see the enormous castle looming ahead. Its five towering spires pierced the sky like five giant fingers.
However, as soon as Rhaegor laid eyes on the castle, he felt an inexplicable discomfort. His blood seemed to stir restlessly, though he couldn't pinpoint the reason.
Noticing Rhaegor's unease, Rhaegon and Elarion exchanged a glance. Elarion nodded slightly, gently nudging his horse to slow down and position himself between Rhaegor and the three wandering knights. Meanwhile, Rhaegon moved closer to Rhaegor and whispered,
"Your Grace, is something wrong?"
"It's nothing," Rhaegor shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the strange thoughts that had flooded his mind. "Let's keep moving."
Rhaegon nodded and didn't press further.
Rhaegor couldn't help but recall what he had just seen.
Everything was burning.
For a fleeting moment, Rhaegor had glimpsed five fiery fingers and the swollen, wailing figures of people. But it had all happened in an instant. When he closed his eyes and opened them again, everything returned to normal, and the strange agitation in his blood seemed like nothing more than an illusion.
Meanwhile, far away in Dragon's Nest...
Draezell sat panting beside Vermithor, letting his companion's drool soak his head. He leaned against the dragon's massive head, sensing the changes in his son's blood.
"It seems that brat has reached Harrenhal."
Vermithor let out a low growl.
"Alright, alright, Vermithor, he's my son," Draezell said with a wry smile, patting the dragon's head, which was large enough to swallow an elephant whole. "I won't let anything happen to him. Harrenhal... it's just Viserys' political game. It won't hurt for the boy to see it."
Draezell suddenly chuckled. Nearby, Valar, who had just jumped down from Silverwing's back shirtless, gave his brother a curious look. "Brother, what are you laughing at?" he asked, having spent some time tending to Silverwing before turning around.
"I suspect that boy will soon learn a lesson," Draezell said with a grin. "I hope he enjoys his father's love."
Valar couldn't help but shiver, silently offering a prayer for his nephew before returning to tend to Silverwing.
Back at Harrenhal...
Gold was the key to success.
With ample funding, Kermit quickly constructed a sizable tourney ground in front of Harrenhal. Knights from far and wide began to arrive in increasing numbers.
Rhaegor carefully observed the banners fluttering in the wind and the heraldry on the shields of the knights passing by.
Most of the attendees were nobles and knights from the Riverlands and the Crownlands, Rhaegor noted to himself.
"Your Grace, what should we do?" Rhaegon approached Rhaegor, who was observing the camp from a high vantage point. "Should we participate?"
Rhaegor scanned the tents already set up by the knights, feeling a familiar itch in his hands.
'I am a knight,' Rhaegor reminded himself. 'No knight can resist the allure of a tourney.'
Moreover, participating in a tourney was part of his training.
Rhaegor made up his mind. "Yes, but tell Elarion that we're not aiming for the championship," he said. As he counted the banners, he noticed something unusual.
Many of the knights were from the Crownlands, and while few were from major noble houses, Rhaegor recognized several banners of knights he had seen at the Red Keep. One banner, in particular, stood out.
A large bat diagonally divided on a field of gold and silver.
"Lucas Lothston?" Rhaegor was very familiar with this sigil. Its owner, Lucas Lothston, was Rhaegon's master-at-arms at the Red Keep.
He had once been a member of the City Watch of King's Landing and, due to his loyal service, had earned the favor of Prince Daemon, who promoted him to master-at-arms of the Red Keep. When Draezell took control of King's Landing, he retained Lucas's position.
However, his role as master-at-arms was somewhat nominal. By the time Rhaegon and Viserys returned to King's Landing, they had already completed their martial training and no longer needed his guidance.
Though Rhaegor could be naive in some matters, he was quite sharp when it came to things like this.
'A bat flying to the Riverlands? Without the dragons' permission, the bats in the Red Keep would never dare covet the greatest castle in the Seven Kingdoms.'
Rhaegor began to form some suspicions in his mind.
"Ser Rhaegon, I just heard Haggo say you plan to participate in the tourney?" Albin, the Handsome, suddenly approached, having maneuvered around Elarion. The young man spoke somewhat awkwardly, "Ser, could you... help me sign up? Or vouch for me as a true knight?"
Rhaegor gave Albin a puzzled look before smiling in understanding.
He realized Albin's situation.
This young man, who claimed to be a knight, was different from Cain and Jaime. The latter two had proven their worth in war, while Albin had lived in times of peace. Perhaps someone might recognize the knight who had supposedly knighted him, but no one would know this young upstart.
And one of the requirements to participate in the tourney was to be a knight.
Though Rhaegor was also young, his warhorse and equipment were enough to prove his wealth and capability. And his shield... the hunter on his shield would immediately link him to House Tarly.
No one would question his identity, but they would doubt Albin's.
So Albin needed a sponsor.
"Alright," Rhaegor agreed. Not for any particular reason, but simply because Albin was now his companion. As the leader of this small group, he felt obligated to offer some support to Albin.
Being his sponsor was one such obligation.
The registration went smoothly.
The man in charge of signing up participants for the tourney took one look at the rapier at Rhaegor's waist and registered them without even checking their shield sigils.
"You two are knights too?" Albin looked at Rhaegon and Elarion in shock, his expression one of betrayal.
By the Seven, he had always thought these two were Rhaegor's squires.
"Does it matter?" Rhaegon grinned and made a face. "The point is, we're signed up, and so are you."
"Don't worry, if you lose your equipment, I'll win it back for you," Elarion added with a smile. After getting to know Albin better, Elarion could tell he was genuinely a simple young man.
Nothing like those two old veterans.
Albin quickly accepted the situation, though.
After all, he was the one who had been beaten up by Elarion.
Being thrashed by a knight, even one as young as Elarion, was still better than being beaten by a squire.
That was how Albin comforted himself.
The group set up their tents near the camp.
Just as night was falling and they were preparing to rest,
Rhaegor suddenly looked up at the sky.
'Dragons are coming.'