Chapter 409: The Bear and the Maiden Fair


    Stornds.


    Southern Rainwood, Mistwood.


    "Roar..."


    The light silver dragon roared triumphantly, swooping low and unleashing a torrent of dragonfire. Outside thepiszuli-piled city walls, countless Dornish soldiers scattered in all directions, their screams and wails filling the air.


    "Retreat! Hide in the Rainwood!"


    "Scorpion crossbows... aim at the dragon..."


    The battlefield was shrouded in smoke, littered with broken wheels and charred corpses. Scorpion crossbows, crucial siege equipment, became the dragon’s first target, quickly followed by stone throwers and siege vehicles.


    Woooooooo—


    The stirring horn blew, signaling the light of victory. From the southwest direction of the Rainwood, a group of storm knights, numbering in the thousands, charged like a steel torrent.


    With their lines copsing, the Dornish soldiers were reduced tombs for the ughter. In a single round of charging, they were decimated.


    "Open the city gates! Counterattack!"


    On the women’s wall of Mistwood, arge banner bearing a white owl was raised, signaling a counterattack amid loud shouts.


    The gates slowly opened, and dozens of knights charged forward, followed by hundreds of infantrymen. Leading them was a tall, burly man with ck hair and brown skin, cutting down the Dornish soldiers.


    "Sea Smoke, don''t let them escape!" Laenor shouted from the dragon’s back, his eyes glowing with intensity.


    "Roar..."


    Sea Smoke hissed melodiously, deftly swooping and raining dragonfire upon the fleeing soldiers.


    "Hahaha, good job..." Laenorughed heartily, nearly choking as the wind rushed into his open mouth. Coughing violently, he steadied his shaking helmet.


    Sea Smoke squinted, deliberately slowing to intercept the Dornish soldiers fleeing towards the forest.


    With thousands of elite cavalry and an adult dragon, there was no doubt about the oue of the battle.


    The Dornish fled desperately, continuing until midday when they scattered from the Rainwood to hide. Even so, nearly two thousand dead littered the battlefield.


    After the battle, soldiers cleaned up the area while reinforcements entered Mistwood.


    The leading house of Mistwood, the House Mertyns, was led by Lord Mertyns, the burly man who had valiantly led the counterattack. He warmly weed the reinforcements.


    "Ser Laenor, thank you for your aid with Sea Smoke!" Lord Mertyns took Laenor’s hand warmly.


    During the First Dornish War, the House Mertyns had been poisoned by the Dornish, losing all their family members. The hatred persisted through the years.


    Laenor''s dragonfire had decimated many Dornish soldiers, earning Lord Mertyns’ deep admiration.


    "Lord, allow me to send a message to the main force before epting your hospitality," Laenor said, all smiles but ever mindful of the battlefield.


    With the teachings of the Sea Snake, Corlys, Laenor''s abilities were not to be underestimated.


    Lord Mertyns quickly ordered someone to fetch a pen and paper, while servants prepared cattle, sheep, and wine to reward the army.


    Laenor, with a serious expression, wrote two letters and delivered them to Lord Royce in Crow’s Nest and Aemond in the Rain House.


    With Mistwood sessfully rescued, an encirclement was formed against the Dornish forces besieging Stonehelm. With a single order, the war could be won.


    ...


    Time shed by, and soon it was noon.


    The raven was the first to reach Rain House, which was much closer, and the letter was handed over to Aemond.


    "Roar..."


    The ugly, rotten mud dragon hissed shrilly, pping its wide brown wings and hovering over the camp. On idle days, patrolling the camp was the responsibility of Sheepstealer, strictly supervising every goat in the area.


    In the clearing, Aemond stood, filled with annoyance, holding two letters. One was from King''s Landing, detailing Aegon and Hena''s "Matchmaking."


    Aemond frowned in displeasure. "Mother is so mean. Why does she want to marry off my sister?"


    In the entire Red Keep, his sister was the only one who treated him well. She had not yet reached adulthood, and their mother was forcing her to marry out—it was truly excessive!


    Scanning the letter''s content about Aegon, Aemond bristled and casually tossed it aside. If it had been about Rhaegar or young Daeron, he might have read it. But Aegon? Forget it. A fellow who only whored himself out wasn’t worth his time.


    Opening the second letter, Aemond''s expression soured instantly. Ensuring no one was watching, he muttered in disgust, "How did Laenor win the fight so quickly?"


    He had been counting on the defenses of Stonehelm dragging out for a while longer. The thought of House Swann pushing their bastard son to the throne disgusted him.


    Tearing the letter to pieces, Aemond sneered disdainfully. "A man who abandoned his blood rtives doesn’t deserve my help."


    He let the shredded paper flutter in the air, calling out to the idle Sheepstealer. Mounting his dragon, he prepared to search for the Dornishmen hiding in the Rainwood.


    ...


    Dornish Territory.


    Outside the city of Sunspear, the Water Gardens.


    News of the defeat arrived continuously, casting a pall over thevish garden adorned with carved beams and painted walls. The vibrant surroundings now seemed dark and discolored.


    Inside a white stone pavilion, Prince Qoren leaned thoughtfully against a stone pir, his gaze fixed on the garden''s center.


    A meandering brook gurgled, encircled by rockeries and tropical coconut and palm trees. Soldiers d in tawny armor stood at attention, guarding the garden''s corners.


    "Hee hee..."


    A dark-haired, dark-skinned little girl yed by the stream, mischievously sshing water at her maid. Tiring of her game, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and bumbled toward the pavilion.


    Qoren''s brows furrowed slightly as he pondered thetest developments.


    "Prince, the battle in the Stornds has ended in a decimation, and Lord Yronwood is requesting reinforcements," reported a tall young knight.


    Qoren turned to face him. The young man had short light blonde hair, violet eyes, and a tall frame d in silver armor, with a massive sword hanging from his back. The family crest of a sword crossed with a shooting star adorned his armor.


    This was Davos Dayne, the current Sword of the Morning of House Dayne, a noble house renowned for their bravery and martial skill. Their fiefdom, Starfall, was famous for the legendary sword, Dawn, said to be forged from the heart of a fallen star, rivaling Valyrian steel.


    Qoren nced at the giant sword with slight admiration. "Don''t worry about it. War isn''t just about the number of soldiers; it’s also about ravens and intelligence."


    Understanding the perils of war, he had modeled a system akin to the Kingsguard, calling upon Dornish knights to form an exclusive escort. Unfortunately, only Davos Dayne, a formidable warrior, remained as his personal guard.


    Davos, his violet eyes heavy with concern, said, "Prince, Stonehelm''s defenses are weak. It should have fallen by now."


    The young guard suspected Lord Yronwood had ulterior motives.


    Qoren chuckled mysteriously. "You underestimate Lord Olyvar. The truth is, I authorized Stonehelm''s continued resistance."


    "Why?" Davos froze, bewildered.


    The young were inexperienced and oftencked the subtlety of the old.


    Qoren sped his hands to his chest and said smugly, "The Targaryens have dragons. Even if we break through Stonehelm, we’ll eventually be burned by those beasts."


    "Instead of being trapped in the city, it’s better to roam through the Rainwood and utilize the advantages of mountain warfare."


    Davos frowned and asked, "When will we achieve victory, then?"


    Relying solely on guerri warfare seemed like a drain on their troops.


    Qoren shook his head, his eyes deep with thought. "Capturing a castle isn''t the goal. What I want is for their forces to crumble internally, creating an opportunity for us."


    He knew that the allied forces of the Stornds were not as united as they seemed.


    After a slight pause, he asked, "Any news from Braavos?"


    Davos hurriedly replied, "The Sealord sent three supply ships, all equipped with iron and crossbows."


    "Tsk, typical of a free trade city-state, overflowing with wealth," Qoren remarked, his lips curling with envy.


    He pondered further. Braavos was supplying weapons to the Dornish, but they were also supporting the Triarchy. How disorganized were the three city-states? Could they hold off Targaryen''s Rhaegar, Daemon, and Rhaenys?


    If not, Braavos'' mercenaries could attack the ports of Pentos or Westeros, creating chaos. The three adult dragonriders couldn''t be everywhere, and the Iron Throne''s ability to deploy dragons would be limited.


    Davos, still uncertain, pressed on, "Prince, what’s happening in Mistwood?"


    "Don''t worry about it; we’ll know soon enough," Qoren replied with a cold smile. "I’ve sent people to Pentos specifically to deal with that Vryon."


    "Father!"


    Aliandra ran over and jumped into her father''s arms.


    "What is it, my little princess?" Qoren’s smile immediately turned from cold to warm, affectionately tipping his daughter''s cheek with his chin.


    "Father, I want a dragon," Aliandra pleaded yfully.


    "Ahem..." Qoren nearly choked, coughing repeatedly. A dragon? His daughter dared to ask for one when he still longed for one himself.


    Regaining hisposure, he said, "The dragons are in the hands of the Targaryens. Martell only hasnces and wisdom."


    "Then catch me a Targaryen," Aliandra said, her eyes bright with excitement.


    Qoren felt a mix of helplessness and amusement. Setting his daughter down, he indulged her briefly before sending her off with a pat on the back.


    Turning back to the unblinking Davos, Qoren’s demeanor grew serious. "Inform Lord Uller that the Vulture Mountains are ready for a general attack."


    Winning the war would require more than just one battlefield, especially not just Cape Wrath. The Prince’s Pass and the Boneway were crucial. The Reach had been rich since ancient times, and Qoren had coveted it for a long time.


    "Yes, Prince," Davos replied, retreating to find the maester and release the raven.


    ...


    Stornds.


    That night.


    In gratitude for the reinforcements that rescued him, Lord Mertyns hosted a celebratory feast at Mistwood Castle. Except for the standing army units guarding the gates, the castle was alive with chaos and merriment.


    "Roar..."


    Sea Smoke crept into the back garden, enjoying a goat brought by the attendants. Apanying the dragon was Cole, searching for his lover.


    Laenor had left the party alone midway through, and was now nowhere to be found.


    Cole circled the light silver Sea Smoke but saw no sign of Laenor.


    "That guy, where did he go again?" Cole sighed deeply, annoyed at his lover''s evasiveness.


    Since the battlefield had shifted from the disputednds to the Stornds, Cole found it increasingly difficult to catch Laenor. Those unaware might think he had been abandoned.


    Casually tugging on a squire, he inquired, "Have you seen Ser Laenor?"


    The squire trembled and pointed in a direction.


    Without a word, Cole looked where the squire indicated. There, an artificialke was surrounded by awn and several wigwams.


    From a distance, a familiar singing voice reached his ears.


    "A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All ck and brown, and covered with hair. The bear! The bear!"


    It was a song widely popr among both nobles andmoners, "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."


    Cole blushed, recognizing Laenor''s voice.


    He had taken only two steps before stopping again, hearing another familiar voice.


    Besides Laenor, another man was singing with him. Cole''s eyes flickered as he cautiously approached, parting the flowers to peer behind the wigwam.


    To his dismay, Laenor, flushed and shirtless, held a bottle of wine. A handsome blond man, also bare-chested, wrapped his arms tightly around Laenor''s waist. The two men were intimate, acting as if they had been friends for years.


    Cole''s face darkened instantly, as ck as the bottom of a pot. He recognized the blond man.


    Laenor, drunk and joyous, called out, "Joffrey, to celebrate your return to my side."


    The blond man''s pale hands began to move uncontrobly over Laenor. Soothed by the touch, Laenor continued singing, "Ohe they said, ohe to the fair! The fair? Said he, but I''m a bear! All ck and brown, and covered with hair!"