Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 426 Dunk and Egg

As King's Landing falls into the shadow of death, the long-lost Baelor Targaryen returns.

When "God's Blessing" Baelor Targaryen slid down from the back of the Fire, twelve gray-white dragon whiskers immediately wrapped around him, supporting the old man's shaky body like loyal servants.

Lingol leaned weakly on the recliner. He saw the magic silk lining of Yasha under the old knight's purple robe, and the jade talisman given by the fifth fortress commander hung around his waist, but the most eye-catching thing was the old knight's tired and weak face.

"You should go to the Red Castle first." Ringol's voice was colder than the draft from the dragon's lair. "Young Beile needs your help."

"I can't help the child." The old baile said tiredly, his voice as light as ash falling to the ground. "I saw the ravens of mourning over the narrow sea. I am also coming to the end of my life, so I must bring back what I should bring back."

There was a moment of silence. The fire whimpered and its tentacles flapped the ground nervously.

The old knight trembled and took out three things from his arms:
First, there was a scroll of silk documents tied with gold thread, which exuded the scent of cedar and ink when it was unfolded. On the cinnabar seal, a wingless dragon in the shape of a snake danced with a gorgeous bird with colorful feathers. "The Yidi people of Carcosa call it the 'City of the Yellow God'. The wizard lord called 'Tian Gong' is indeed something. He has lived for three hundred years and will continue to live. He knows the prophecy of the coming of the Long Night." He pointed to a prophecy written in Yidi language, "and knows the importance of the dragon. He said that the Emperor of the Bu family has lost the ancient heritage. Now he will fulfill the ancient covenant and help the Five Forts resist the roar of the Night Lion when the Long Night comes."

The second item was a dark dragon crystal, with a wisp of blue mist sealed inside. When Ringol touched it, a chill instantly crept up his arm, and frost formed on the surface of his skin. "The Great Shadowbinder from Asshai." Old Beile coughed, "They say it's a White Walker, or a Night Lion. Anyway, it's proof that this kind of thing has resurrected. The prophecy wizards, blood wizards, and fire wizards of Asshai saw the destruction of Asshai in the prophecy. They hope to reverse the prophecy. If they can't, they will also fulfill the ancient covenant when the long night comes..."

Finally, there was a jade tablet with a lion carved on it. "It was sent by Governor Chai Qian of the Fifth Regiment." Beile's voice became shorter and shorter. "The fire helped the Fifth Regiment to clear the enemy from one of their black stone fortresses. Governor Chai Qian promised that the Fifth Regiment would persist in fulfilling its duties."

After saying this, he leaned against the fire as if relieved of a heavy burden.

Years of traveling had destroyed his health, and it was a great relief for him to get back in time.

The twelve tentacles of the burning fire slowly stretched out in the darkness, and the gray-white scales reflected the remaining torchlight, like the inscriptions peeling off from an ancient stone tablet. "God's Blessing" Baelor Targaryen leaned on its neck, and his skinny fingers stroked the tentacles that had entangled Longzel, Ringol, and Samantha.

"Old friend." His voice was so soft that it was almost torn apart by the night wind echoing in the dragon's lair. "It's time to go home."

"Are you sure?" The Prime Minister's voice was a little relieved. That dragon belonged to his sister and his sister's child. The Prime Minister was deeply touched by the torture brought by the longevity of the second generation of the Vareses family. "The fire is bigger than all the dragons owned by the Targaryen family now."

The old knight smiled, his mouth showing the wrinkles carved by time and travel: "I am sure." He coughed, and the taste of rust came from his throat. "Besides, it was originally a dragon of Vareses."

The fire dragon suddenly raised its head, and its jagged dragon horns gently pressed against Beile's chest, as if in protest. The twelve tentacles tightened at the same time, wrapping the old man in it, like a gentle farewell.

"Uncle Ringol, I have seen the decline of our family." The old Beile said affectionately, "The blood of Targaryen and Varese has long been united. I beg you, and the Varese family, to preserve the last blood of Targaryen when the Targaryen declines."

He bowed his head deeply.

On King's Road.

The evening glow dyed the muddy road bloody. Roland Crakehall of the Kingsguard rode at the front of the team, his greatsword resting across his saddle, his alert eyes scanning the dense forests on both sides. Behind him, Sir William Wilder held his spear tightly, his white robe fluttering slightly in the damp evening breeze.

"We will pass through this dense forest in half a day." William whispered, "After we pass the forest, Earl Clinton will escort us."

Inside the carriage, Daenerys Targaryen gently squeezed her brother Aegon's hand. The little prince was lying by the window, his silver hair gilded by the setting sun, his violet eyes curiously looking at the wild flowers on the roadside.

"Will we see Hoffa?" Aegon asked his sister, looking up.

Daenerys smiled: "Of course, there are also little Valar, Jonil and others. They will teach you High Valyrian and help you hatch dragons."

Whoosh!
An arrow suddenly hit the outer wall of the carriage, and its tail feathers vibrated violently.

"Ambush! Form a battle line!" Roland roared, drew his sword, and stood up on his horse.

More than 20 cavalrymen rushed out of the woods. They were wearing messy patchwork armors, and their shields were painted with peeling and messy emblems. They were a group of downtrodden knights driven to despair by the plague. King's Landing had not yet recovered, and the royal family was unable to intervene in other areas. Therefore, the wealthy areas could still be maintained, while the poor areas were in chaos. Behind them were hundreds of infantrymen holding messy weapons. There were even longbows and crossbows.

"Hand over the valuables!" The leading bandit brandished his notched sword, "We only want gold, not life!"

William Wilder sneered: "Idiot, you robbed the Kingsguard!"

The battle broke out in the mud. Roland's great sword split a shield, and the bandit's collarbone broke in the flying wood. William's spear was like a venomous snake, knocking down two riders in succession.

But in the chaos, a frightened packhorse rammed the royal carriage.

"Aegon!" Daenerys tried to grab her brother, but the jolting carriage threw them apart. The prince's hand slipped from her fingertips and he rolled out of the door.
Just as Aegon was about to fall into the reeds, a loud horn sounded suddenly in the distance.

"For the King!"

A group of cavalrymen in scarlet capes rushed into the battlefield like a raging fire, and the leading knight held high the banner of the Clinton family. The bandits were immediately thrown into disarray. They might dare to attack a small group of only a dozen people, but they would never dare to confront the Stormland army head-on.

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!" The bandit leader turned his horse around and fled into the dense forest.

Roland did not pursue him. He panted and looked around: "Where is the prince?"

William had rushed toward the reeds, but there were only bent grass stems and a small velvet glove embroidered with the three-headed dragon of Targaryen.

The prince is gone.

Downstream of the fast but shallow river.

Aegon Targaryen spat out a mouthful of muddy water and lay carefully in the mud, his silver hair covered with dead leaves. The beautiful little boy bit his lips tightly to prevent himself from crying. His father Maekar said that a true dragon would never show weakness.

The sound of horse hooves and unknown voices could be heard in the distance.

The little prince curled up even tighter. He remembered the story his sister had told him. During the Dance of the Dragons, the silver-haired prince was a favorite in the eyes of the various princes, not because of the treatment, but because of the profit after capturing the prince. The boy didn't know why the bandits came. In his heart, he prayed for his sister and Uncle Iron Guard, while fearing his own future.

The trembling little hand touched a piece of sharp gravel.

As the footsteps approached, Aegon made a decision.

Click.

A lock of silver hair fell into the mud.

"Gods of the Seven! There's a child here!"

Aegon looked up and saw a giant-like boy pushing aside the reeds. The man was wearing a patched coarse cloth, but the wooden sword at his waist was polished to a shine, and under his messy hair was a simple and honest smile.

"What's your name, kid? Where are your parents?" The boy squatted down and looked at the child's naked body and mottled head in surprise.

"Yigo." The prince burst into tears. "My family members are all sick and dead. I don't know where to go."

"What a coincidence! Me too, Eggboy." The young man lifted the boy onto his shoulders easily. "My name is Duncan, and everyone calls me 'Dunk'! Come on, I'll take you to the prince's territory in the borderland. I heard that the lord there is recruiting servants! He will also help us fight the plague!"

(End of this chapter)