Chapter 163: Crackclaw Wildlings vs Mountain Clans

Chapter 163: Crackclaw Wildlings vs Mountain Clans

The Mushroom Set's merchant caravan only operated in the Crownlands and the Riverlands.

Taking advantage of this trip to the Vale, Rhaegar planned to open up a new trade route. The Mushroom Set's caravan was to be developed in the Vale.

Facing Rhaegar's invitation, Jeyne raised her eyebrows lightly and hesitated. Rhaenyra noticed her expression and, with a mischievous smile, said, "What, you don't dare?"

She knew her good sister was afraid of heights.

Jeyne tilted her head defiantly. "I am the Lady of the Eyrie. Do you think I will be afraid?"

"How about I carry you?" Rhaenyra teased, closing in on her.

"Just let the dragon through," Jeyne replied, fear aside, full of determination.

...

Noon, in the guest room.

Rhaegar stayed in the cramped, stone-built room, holding a letter from Driftmark.

"A letter from Driftmark? What does it say?" Rhaenyra, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked a little worried.

"Don't worry, it's good news," Rhaegar replied, handing her the letter with satisfaction. "Corlys' fleet was stationed at Bloodstone Island. Pirates from the Three Sisters tried to launch a sneak attack, but just as the Stormlands' fleet arrived, they were caught in a pincer movement and wiped out."

"The first battle is a great success, and the advantage is ours," Rhaegar added, watching Rhaenyra smile, pleased with the victory at the Stepstones.

"Yes, Corlys has secured his position in the Stepstones. Once support from the rest of the realm arrives, the Three Sisters will be defeated," Rhaegar analyzed, considering the support from the Vale.

Once the wedding ceremony at Runestone was over and the fleet in Gulltown was gathered, they could proceed with their plans. As for the rebellion of the mountain clans, if Jeyne asked for help, he would hold the dragon at the ready. If Yorbert resolved it, they’d head straight for the Stepstones.

"This cousin of ours is a bit unreliable," Rhaegar mentioned abruptly.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, "How so?"

"A woman in charge of the overall situation, relying on the Regent's bannermen to fight foreign wars—I suspect she doesn't have enough real power," Rhaegar speculated boldly.

"Jeyne has Yorbert's counsel, and the Vale has not been in chaos all these years," Rhaenyra countered, thinking of the Defender of the Vale who is out in the field.

Rhaegar shook his head. "Yorbert is getting old. If he passes away, there will be countless troubles for Jeyne."

Yorbert had resigned from his position as the Lord of Runestone in his prime and had supported Jeyne for over twenty years. The death of such an old man would not be sudden.

...

Mountains of the Moon

In the dense forests along a mountain trail, a convoy of wagons moved slowly. The caravan was long, guarded by hundreds of soldiers clad in armor. At the head of the procession, a silver-armored and white-robed member of the Kingsguard led the way.

"Ser Erryk, wait," called a soft male voice from behind.

Erryk turned back, cautiously addressing the voice. "What is it, Tormund?"

Tormund, leaning against a covered wagon, looked bewildered. "I see a large group of men hiding on the hill road ahead. They have iron weapons, bows, and arrows."

"How many?" Erryk's brow furrowed.

"Around three hundred," Tormund estimated.

Erryk's expression grew serious. He called a large soldier over and ordered, "Stop the caravan. Three hundred men stay behind; two hundred men follow me."

"Yes!" the soldier responded, rallying two hundred tall soldiers with great efficiency. These were former Crackclaw Point freefolk, now serving as Dragonkeepers of the Dragonpit, accompanying the Kingsguard to transport goods to the Vale.

Erryk swiftly mounted his horse and led the two hundred soldiers into the dense forest, advancing quickly.

...

Meanwhile, a group of rough men in animal skins lay in the dense shrubs, eyes fixed on the distant intersection. They had heard from scouts that a group of well-laden travelers had entered the Mountains of the Moon, ripe for plundering.

The tribe, poor and desperate, had been waiting for a long time with no sign of the caravan. Growing impatient, a one-eyed bandit poked his head out. "Where's that caravan? Why hasn't it arrived yet?" he grumbled.

Slap! An ugly, burly man emerged from the bushes, striking the one-eyed bandit. "Patience. Make another sound and I'll rip your head off and stuff it up your arse."

Whoosh—

Before he finished speaking, a sharp arrow flew through the air, piercing the one-eyed bandit's remaining good eye.

Pfft—

The iron arrow exited through the back of his head. The one-eyed bandit, his expression still grimacing, staggered and fell to the ground.

The burly man looked dumbfounded, blurting out, "Now he’s only got his arsehole left."