Chapter 234: The Mark of Cannibal

Chapter 234: The Mark of Cannibal

Morning Meeting

Upon awakening, Lyonel was bombarded with information. He learned of Rhaegar's attack on the Triarchy and the impending victory over the Stepstones.

With a dragon returned to the land, the rebellion in the Riverlands seemed manageable.

"Lord Lyonel, tend to your wounds," Rhaegar said, eyeing Lyonel's bloated form with concern.

Lyonel patted his chest and coughed twice. "My physique is fine."

The Strong Hpuse, true to its name, boasted robust and healthy members, except for Lyonel's second son, Larys, who was born with a clubfoot and fragile health.

Seeing Lyonel's resilience, Rhaegar continued, "The rebel lords are led by the Blackwood and Bracken House. I intend to crush them with blood."

Blatant treason demanded a stern response.

"Prince, your idea is understandable," Lyonel replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But these houses have deep roots in the Riverlands, going back thousands of years. Too much bloodshed could provoke a backlash from other nobles."

The nobility was a peculiar group, often at each other's throats. But if the royal family decimated a major house, it could spark widespread resentment.

Rhaegar nodded, understanding the delicate balance. "What do you propose?"

"Be polite first, and only then use force to avoid a bad reputation," Lyonel suggested. "Send someone to negotiate with both families to gauge their attitudes."

The Blackwoods, though involved in skirmishes with the Riverrun army, still showed some sense and could be swayed. Conversely, the Brackens acted with reckless abandon and would need to be severely punished.

By exploiting the enmity between the two houses, they could quell the rebellion with minimal casualties.

Rhaegar agreed, considering Lyonel's advice. "I know Samwell Blackwood, the Blackwood heir. We may be able to win him over."

He also noted that Robb Rivers, leader of the Second Sons, was from Blackwood, and was Samwell's half-brother, a bastard son of the Lord of Blackwood.

Rhaegar and Lyonel then delved into specific strategies, their discussion stretching into the night.

...

After leaving the tent, Rhaegar stretched his back, feeling the tension of the long discussion ease. The cool night air was a welcome relief.

Rhaenyra and Helaena walked out together, their faces reflecting the glow of the campfire.

"Rhaegar, you should rest," Rhaenyra said, taking his hand in concern.

Helaena, leaning against Rhaegar's leg, clasped her small hands together and watched quietly. Except when she was riding her dragon, she was generally introverted.

"Okay, you two share a tent and watch each other," Rhaegar suggested, his eyes softening. He gently tugged at Helaena's small hand.

It would be safer for the two sisters to sleep together in the wilderness. Rhaenyra looked at Helaena and took her hand helplessly. Since taming Dreamfyre, Helaena had grown bolder every day.

She wondered how worried Alicent would be if she discovered Helaena had snuck out of King's Landing.

This devastation drove the Children of the Forest north of the Wall, where they faded into legend, their history recorded only in ancient texts.

Rhaegar sighed in awe, "The Freehold of Valyria was truly formidable."

Even the mighty House Targaryen was only one of forty dragonlord families. The exiled Aenar Targaryen had foreseen Valyria's doom through the prophecy of his daughter Daenys, leading them to Dragonstone and survival.

"Roar..."

Cannibal grew impatient and nudged Rhaegar hard enough to make him stumble before turning and crouching down.

Rhaegar steadied himself and said softly, "Hang on, I'm coming."

He climbed up the soft ladder onto the dragon's back, then looked at his sisters. "Are you going back to rest, or are you coming with me to explore the Isle of Faces?"

"I want to go!" Helaena exclaimed, raising her small hand and quickly climbing up the ladder onto Cannibal.

Rhaenyra, intrigued, gave Helaena a boost. "I'll go too."

Once all three were seated on Cannibal's back, the dragon, satisfied, flapped its wings and took off, gliding over the God's Eye Lake. Rhaegar relinquished the saddle to his sisters and stood on the dragon's neck, his silver hair blowing in the evening wind.

Cannibal flew low, his tail skimming the surface of the lake, creating ripples. Soon they reached the Isle of Faces and landed in the heart of the island.

"I'll explore first," Rhaegar announced, jumping down from the dragon's back. He saw several thick, ancient Weirwood trees with twisted branches like a witch's fingers.

Weirwoods were rare in the south. Nobles who worshipped the Old Gods usually planted one in their godswoods, but on the Isle of Faces, multiple weirwoods stood together.

The weirwoods were dense and foreboding, their red leaves rustling in the breeze. Carved faces on the trunks, with crimson sap oozing from their eye sockets, gave an eerie impression.

Rhaegar gripped the hilt of his Dragon Claw sword, scanning the area for danger. Once assured, he lit a torch and called out, "It's safe. Come down."

Rhaenyra and Helaena climbed down, each carrying a torch. The island was covered in vegetation, with the weirwoods adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

"Cannibal, what did you find?" Rhaegar asked, touching the rough bark of a weirwood.

Cannibal responded with a low, rumbling roar. Then, using its wings to brace itself, it swung its thick tail, sweeping away the vegetation on the island.

...

The climate of the Riverlands is warm and fertile, nurturing a variety of shrubs, tropical flowers, and grasses on the island. Cannibal swung its tail, clearing a large area of space, but it didn’t stop there. The dragon continued its relentless cleanup.

Situated in the center of God's Eye Lake, the Isle of Faces is a rare island in the heart of the lake. Its size is substantial, larger than a typical castle's grounds. However, it couldn't withstand the ravages of Cannibal's massive body. In a short time, the once lush island was reduced to a chaotic landscape.

Rhaegar allowed Cannibal to continue its work, not resting himself. There were seven weirwood trees on the island, and Rhaegar explored each one meticulously. When he touched the last tree, the thickest of them all, a sharp voice startled him.

"Stop, Targaryen heir!"

Rhaegar paused, looking back warily. From the shadowy hillside, a small, stooped figure emerged, leaning heavily on a walking stick.