After leaving the banquet and exiting the Red Keep, Rhaegar headed directly to the Dragonpit.
He summoned the remaining seven hundred members of the Dragon Guard.
Under Menas's selection, two hundred of the best fighters were chosen.
Rhaegar commanded, "One hundred will board ships tomorrow for the Stepstones, while the other hundred will be stationed in the Red Keep to strengthen its defense."
A battlefield required loyal soldiers to command.
The Red Keep's defenses had grown lax, and integrating the Dragon Guard would help form an elite royal guard unit.
"Yes, Prince," Menas responded before leaving with his men.
Soon, Xiluo approached, his hair disheveled as if he had just woken up.
Rhaegar glanced at him, curiosity evident in his eyes.
"Prince, do you remember the girl I mentioned?"
Xiluo stepped aside, revealing a foreign girl dressed in a black robe.
Rhaegar scrutinized her face and asked uncertainly, "Sara?"
His memory was excellent, especially since this girl had once helped him acquire a Valyrian steel greatsword.
Sara stepped forward and knelt on one knee. "Thank you for taking me in, Prince."
Rhaegar cast a questioning look at Xiluo.
Xiluo explained, "Sara grew up in Braavos and once trained at the House of Black and White."
"A Faceless Man?" Rhaegar asked in astonishment.
The House of Black and White was the headquarters of the Faceless Men, the most elite assassins not only in Braavos but throughout the world.
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," Xiluo said with a hint of regret. "According to Sara, her target was killed before she could complete her assignment, rendering her trial incomplete."
After listening to the explanation, Rhaegar understood the situation.
Following the failed assassination, the House of Black and White severed ties with Sara and stopped assigning her missions.
This cold treatment was their way of dealing with failures.
Frightened and fearing execution, Sara fled under cover of night.
She wandered for a long time until she reached Slaver's Bay.
During one mishap, she was surrounded by Unsullied soldiers and captured, eventually becoming a slave in the gladiator pits.
After her most recent duel, a slave trader took interest in her and planned to sell her to a wealthy merchant in Pentos.
However, their slave ship was intercepted by the Three Daughters.
After understanding the full story, Rhaegar asked, "You want to follow me?"
"Yes, Prince," Sara responded without hesitation.
"How can I trust you?" Rhaegar asked.
A ruthless and emotionless Faceless Man—or someone close to being one—was dangerous and not the type of subordinate one could casually keep nearby.
Sara unsheathed the dagger at her waist, held it above her head with both hands, and spoke frankly: "Because you can protect me."
Hearing this, Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he carefully considered the situation.
If what Xiluo said was true, and Sara was indeed a discarded Faceless apprentice, she might still be targeted for elimination.
Having suffered in Slaver's Bay for years, the hardships she endured were likely etched deeply into her memory.
"I am willing to die for you!"
Speaking in broken Valyrian, Sara bared her wheat-colored neck.
Rhaegar took the dagger from her hands and said calmly, "Live well, and stand in the sunlight."
With that, he casually tossed the dagger to the ground, where it clattered loudly.
"The Faceless don't deserve to live in the sunlight," Sara murmured, head bowed in desolation.
"It doesn't matter—you haven't worn the face of another person yet," Rhaegar said as he turned to leave. "Follow me. One face is enough."
Sara lifted her head, her pale green eyes reflecting confusion. Instinctively, she replied, "Yes, Prince."
As they stepped out of the Dragonpit, the bright moonlight illuminated the dim earth.
Dozens of fully armed young men, clad in gleaming armor, knelt in two orderly rows, their gazes fixed on Rhaegar as he walked toward them under the moonlight.
The light bathed Rhaegar's head, causing his silver-gold hair to sway gently in the evening breeze. His violet eyes were calm as water.
Though his youthful face still bore traces of immaturity, every move he made radiated an unparalleled composure and charisma.
Looking down at the kneeling group of second sons and bastards before him, Rhaegar smiled faintly. "Were you looking for me?"
He knew exactly what they sought.
Although they were somewhat impatient, the suddenness of the situation left little room for delay.
The black-haired youth closest to him spoke first: "Prince, the Three Daughters have invaded our lands. Please allow us to follow you into battle and clear the path ahead!"
"You're Robb Rivers, right? I didn't forget," Rhaegar said calmly.
Rhaegar looked at the man before him, his tone firm.
Robb lifted his head, his expression filled with excitement. "It is an honor beyond words for you to remember my name."
Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively and asked, "If I give you an opportunity, what kind of army can you raise for me?"
"In one night, I can gather a force of five hundred men," Robb declared.
Then, as an afterthought, he added, "They are all second sons and bastards who have received knightly training."
"Very well. By tomorrow morning, I want to see five hundred men fully armed and ready to march."
Rhaegar reached out, pulling Robb to his feet, and affirmed, "From that moment on, you will be the commander of the Second Sons, directly under my command."
"I will not fail you!"
Robb was overwhelmed with excitement, his body trembling slightly as if he couldn't wait to act immediately.
"Go now, but keep it discreet."
Rhaegar patted him on the shoulder and, meeting the fiery gazes of the gathered second sons and bastards, descended the steps.
With just a single glance, he ignited their blood with the fire of ambition.
Aside from a few major noble families, most noble houses in Westeros only truly valued their eldest sons.
The firstborn represented the family, inheriting the lands and the title.
Second sons, at best, were substitutes or attendants for their elder brothers.
Some less wealthy minor nobles would provide their second sons with armor, weapons, and a horse—before sending them out to fend for themselves.
As for bastards, they were looked down upon even more and were treated with outright disdain.
Recruiting second sons and bastards would not bring the support of their noble families, but it did offer another advantage.
Most second sons—and some bastards—had received knightly training. They were skilled in horseback riding, archery, and swordsmanship.
On the battlefield, one of them could easily take on ten peasant-born soldiers.
Apart from his elite force of 1,200 Dragon Guards, Rhaegar lacked a solid military foundation.
A company of second sons and bastards would form an excellent addition to his army.
---
On the way back to the Red Keep, Rhaegar rode in a carriage.
In a dimly lit alley, a squad of Gold Cloaks stood guard.
Rhaenyra, dressed in a black gown, stood on her toes, peering into the distance as the carriage slowly passed by.
"Princess, the prince has already returned," Ser Harwin said, standing beside her, holding a torch to illuminate the dark alley.
"I saw, Ser."
Watching the silhouette inside the carriage through the firelight, Rhaenyra smiled and said, "The feast isn't over yet. Let's head back to the Red Keep."
"I have arranged a carriage for you," Harwin said, signaling to the Gold Cloaks behind him to disperse. "Watch your step, Princess."
Rhaenyra chuckled. "Ser, you've worked hard."
"Ensuring your safety is the duty of the City Watch," Harwin replied solemnly, raising his hand in a gesture of respect.
Rhaenyra studied him for a moment before lifting her gown slightly and stepping into the carriage.
Harwin did not join her. Instead, he assigned two Gold Cloaks as escorts and watched as the carriage disappeared into the distance.
For a fleeting moment, his gaze lowered, unable to hide the brief flash of admiration in his eyes.
But in the next instant, he snapped out of it, his voice sharp as he barked, "Back to your patrols! No slacking off!"
In just a second, he had regained his usual stern demeanor, leading his men through the streets of King's Landing, patrolling the alleys and keeping watch over the city.
(End of Chapter)