Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 428 Settling Refugees
When the shadow of Sayer covered the camp like night, the horses neighed and stood up. The flames in the brazier were torn by the strong wind raised by the dragon's wings, and the rouge-red dragon slowly landed in the center of the camp. The jagged bone armor glowed bloody in the firelight, and the breath had a faint smell of sulfur, which made the bravest soldiers tremble. Duncan hugged Aegon and huddled behind the dragon saddle, shivering. Old Alan was tied to the dragon's back. The simple bandage relieved the old knight's pain and allowed him to...

Damion Vareses leaped down from the dragon's back, his black-gold armor clanging. The mud he splashed when he landed stained Count Clinton's boots, but the border lord didn't even dare to raise his hand to wipe it off. The entire camp was silent, with only the crackling of burning torches and the low gurgling sound in Sayer's throat.

“Count.” Damion’s voice seemed to come from deep in the ice field.

Clinton knelt on one knee, holding his gauntlet to his chest. "Lord Damion, we are still searching. The scouts have not returned yet."

"I've found the prince." The dragon knight interrupted him and took off the black iron gauntlet decorated with laurel leaves. This simple action made the surrounding soldiers unconsciously step back half a step. "I've found the scout too."

Damion's eyes swept over the refugees huddled beside the following carriage. They were ragged, pale and thin, and several children clung to their mother's skirts with fear in their eyes. An old woman was pressing the wound of the unconscious old Sir Alan with trembling hands, and blood was oozing from between her fingers. The scouts sent by Earl Clinton brought back the refugees on their war horses. They were only one step slower than the dragon.

"These people," Damion pointed his scabbard at the refugees, "I need the Clinton family's troops to escort them to the Silver Blood Army Manor in Young Deerton..."

Clinton's brows were twisted into a knot: "Sir, the Silver Blood Army Manor belongs to the Varese family."

"The Silver Blood Army Manor has the responsibility to accommodate refugees." A cold light flashed in Damion's purple eyes. "This is the system left by my grandfather. Do you have any objection?"

At the edge of the camp, a woman holding a baby suddenly burst into tears. The child in her arms had a high fever and his face was red. Damion's gaze stayed on the child for a moment, and his frown relaxed slightly.

"Listen, Connington." He lowered his voice so that only the earl could hear, "one of these commoners saved Prince Aegon, and Prince Aegon is a very affectionate child, you know."

Clinton's pupils suddenly contracted.

“Now you understand?” Damion put on his gauntlets again. “Send your maester with you. There are medicines to prevent the plague in the cellar of the manor, and there is also a special quarantine area.”

Sayael suddenly let out a sharp neigh, and its tail covered with bone armor swept across the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Damion jumped onto the dragon's back without looking back, and before he flew into the air, he said one last thing:

"Tell the steward of the manor that if anyone asks, tell him that this was an order from Lord Igor."

As the dragon flapped its wings and took off, Clinton finally found his voice. He turned to his adjutant and said in a hoarse voice: "Prepare the horses! Give half of our food to these refugees!"

The adjutant was stunned: "Sir, we don't have much food left."

"Do as you are told!" Clinton grabbed the aide-de-camp by the collar, "unless you want to taste the dragon flame of the Varese family!"

Under the shadow of the dragon that was gradually going away, the refugees looked at each other in bewilderment. The mother of the feverish baby suddenly knelt on the ground, tears mixed with dust leaving clear traces on her face. She didn't know what the Silver Blood Army Manor was, nor did she understand why she was suddenly saved. But at this moment, the child in her arms finally fell asleep peacefully.

Dragon's Nest City, Flame Tower.

The light from the whale oil candles illuminated the hanging silver dragon laurel leaf banner. Damion removed his arm armor, revealing his lean arms, which were covered with old wounds from dragon training and experimentation.

Old Alan lay on a soft fur couch, his cloudy eyes staring at the ceiling. When Damion slapped a handful of snow-white ointment on his shoulder, the old man groaned in pain. "Bear with it," Damion said, "This is made with ice mint, which can prevent the wound from rotting."

Duncan sat nearby, his fifteen-year-old body covered in scratches. He watched Damion's skillful movements, his eyes sparkling, "Sir, have you really saved so many people on the battlefield?"

Damion said without even looking up: "It depends on your perspective. The more people I kill, the more people I save." He glanced at Duncan, "Your father is 'good man' Tom?"

Duncan nodded vigorously: "Yes! My father said that he was responsible for repairing armor in the Raven's Tooth Guard, and later he personally went to the battlefield to smash people!"

The corners of Damion's mouth rose slightly. "I remember him. That guy smashed a Blackfire Cavalryman's head with a hammer and captured a knight." He picked up the silver needle and began to sew up old Alan's wound. "After the war, he was knighted and received a sum of money."

Duncan grinned: "Dad said that being a lord is too troublesome, it's better to be a blacksmith."

Damion smiled and shook his head. He knew the situation on the battlefield. The merits of the "good man" Tom were not enough for him to obtain the fiefdom, but there was no problem in getting a large sum of money and a title.
Old Alan coughed weakly twice: "When Tom was under Lord Dondarrion, he couldn't even hold the sword steadily. I didn't expect that later..."

Damion interrupted him. "The Raven's Teeth were chosen by Brynden. He has a good eye for people." He turned to Duncan and examined the wound on the boy's arm. "Did your father teach you to use a hammer?"

Duncan puffed out his chest proudly, "Of course! I can play the best horseshoes!"

Damion snorted and poured the amber liquid on Duncan's wound. "A descendant of the Raven's Tooth Guard, but he can only play horseshoes?"

Duncan scratched his head and said, "Dad said that to be a knight you must first learn how to work."

Damion suddenly took out a bottle of purple-red potion and handed it to Old Alan: "Drink it, it will relieve the pain."

The old knight swallowed the potion and his complexion quickly improved. Duncan was stunned: "What kind of magic medicine is this?"

"Red grapes and dragon's blood vine," Damion put away the medicine bottle, "It's much better than the horse urine your father drank back then."

At dawn, the cavalry of Earl Clinton escorted the refugees to the Silver Blood Army Manor on the edge of Young Deer Village. The manor steward had already lined up with servants to greet them.

"According to Lord Damion's orders," the steward announced loudly, "each adult man can be given a temporary job in the vineyard, women can be arranged to work in the weaving workshop, children can go to the school to study temporarily, and those who are unwell can be isolated in the church."

The old soldier with a broken leg couldn't believe his eyes when he was placed on a bed covered with feather mattress. The old woman touched the brand new wool blanket and drew a seven-pointed star with trembling hands. The girl who always coughed received a silver box containing honey and medicine candy after being sent to the temple.

When the steward stuffed two candies into the hands of the youngest girl in the team, the girl raised her dirty little face and said, "Sir, did Brother Dunk really become a knight's squire?"

The butler smiled and crouched down. "That brave boy will make a great knight."

(End of this chapter)