Lucifer came from a drylands family that had long since been wiped from history. A king who shared his name, King Lucifer, had once been defeated by Nymeria, who was married into the minor kingdom of Dorne at the time. He was shackled in golden chains and sent to the Wall. Their ancestral castle had already been seized by House Uller before the War of Conquest. The men, women, and children who were driven out became homeless strays, and for more than two hundred years afterward, they lived lives of constant displacement and hardship.
This land was harsh and savage, its people fierce by nature. Along the rivers of the eastern coast, the villages and farmlands had no place for rootless drifters like them. His family was driven south, and from a young age, Lucifer grew accustomed to trudging through dried ravines, barefoot, searching for food among jagged reefs—worse still, fresh water was painfully scarce.
When he was ten, the family's head—his father—went into the desert to search for a well and never returned. His mother risked going out to sea to fish and was swallowed by a whirlpool. Two years later, his younger sister was bitten to death by a venomous snake that slithered into their shack—
In this world, Lucifer was left completely alone.
Lucifer began wandering aimlessly. He had curled up in the shadows beneath the gates of Sunspear, and he had stayed in the stables of Shadow City, built from mud and straw. He scavenged floating vegetable leaves from the water to stave off hunger, swallowed snakes whole in the desert, and journeyed from south to north. By sheer luck, he survived into adulthood—and by even better luck, in Vaith, he went from being a street beggar to an apprentice taken in by a local blacksmith.
Seeing that he was a boy with long limbs, the blacksmith had him work the bellows nonstop at first, then gradually allowed him to help with forging. Like all apprentices, Lucifer was scolded and beaten from time to time, but he didn't mind and worked diligently. After all, this life wouldn't leave him dying of thirst in the desert anymore—
But was he satisfied?
He remembered the stories his father used to tell him when he was young. Once, there had been a silver-haired Young Dragon Prince, peerless in valor, whose army had broken into Hellholt, occupied by House Uller, and pushed straight to Sunspear. Lucifer's ancestor had served as the guide for that army, a pathfinder through the desert. The hatred of the drylands family should have been avenged—
Alas, the Young Dragon Prince died in a treacherous false negotiation set by the Dornish, and that ancestor was brutally killed by the counterattacking House Uller.
The plan to restore the family died with them. Yet from south to north of Dorne, every boneway route and desert river had been passed down orally through generations, carried by that guide's words. Every night, using black ash from the forge, Lucifer could draw those maps. He did not know whether, in this lifetime, he would ever see another Young Dragon Prince.
It was the Long Summer, and the heat was unusually oppressive. The blacksmith's shop was like a blazing furnace. Lucifer took a sip of water, wiped the sweat from his brow, carried the finished horseshoes outside, and nailed them onto a horse's hooves.
The horse belonged to a sellsword knight, who also owned a mule. Business at the blacksmith's shop had been excellent lately. Aside from horseshoes, many knights came to commission swords, and some even spent eight hundred silver stags—four gold dragons—to forge fine mail, gorgets, greaves, and full helms. Standing beneath a shaded awning made of mud and straw, they chatted idly and spoke of news:
Prince Viserys of Summerhall was officially recruiting ten thousand soldiers across the Seven Kingdoms. Any able-bodied man aged fifteen or above could go and take part in the selection.
"His Grace the king dotes on the Prince of Summerhall. I heard the rebuilt palace floors are paved with gold. And they say the chosen soldiers eat white bread every day! Not black bread!"
The sellsword knight was heading precisely for Summerhall, located at the crossroads of the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Reach. He spoke eloquently, brimming with confidence about making a name for himself under the prince's banner. It was only a pity that his personal squire had just died of illness.
Lucifer thought for no longer than it took the blacksmith to finish forging a horseshoe. He dropped the bellows, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully to the knight.
"My lord, do you still need a loyal servant?"
And so Lucifer led the mule, cared for the baggage, and followed the knight northward. They crossed the Red Mountains along the Boneway and finally arrived within the lands of Summerhall.
This was a landscape completely unlike Dorne. Lucifer stared in amazement at the towering stacks of wheat sheaves piled before ordinary farmers' homes. The sellsword knight laughed when he saw his reaction.
"Hey! Boy, this isn't all that special. Have you been to the Reach? The melons there grow as big as wagons! Wheat is nothing."
"One night's lodging is fine—just help us harvest wheat for a day."
This was the condition the farmers eagerly demanded of every able-bodied man passing through.
A noble knight was unwilling to lower himself, so his squire, Lucifer, obediently learned to harvest wheat in his master's stead, exchanging honest labor for a dinner of fresh wheat bread and a roof over his head.
After cutting the wheat, they still had to thresh the grain. The farmers even borrowed pack animals from passing merchants to pull millstones around their yards. Lucifer heard them talking about rushing to finish the first "double harvest," quickly reaping the wheat so they could fertilize and sow the second crop while the weather was favorable.
The Prince of Summerhall, who provided the seeds, took only half the yield as tax. From just one Long Summer harvest, the remaining half from a few acres of land was enough to feed a large family for a long time, with surplus left to sell to the prince—
How much could a full bag of copper coins buy?
"There's a free market every seven days! Everyone from Summerhall goes, and lots of merchants from the Reach and the Stormlands come too. They bring so many good things! I'm going to buy a sheepskin coat!"
"Our whole family has a 'Summerhall household registration.' With it, we get seeds and fertilizer from the prince." The farmer's pretty daughter lifted her chin. "Lucifer, if you're chosen and become a soldier loyal to the prince, you'll get a 'registration' too. When that happens, I'll consider seeing you."
…Here, even a knight's squire wasn't particularly desirable anymore.
Lucifer followed the knight to the recruitment camp. Knights were no longer allowed to bring retainers. Everyone was first led to the river to bathe, then given a wooden token carved with a number. They lined up and entered the tents one by one.
Inside was a neatly dressed man of refined appearance—clearly a noble. Beside him stood a servant holding a quill and a roll of parchment. The noble questioned Lucifer gently about his past. Lucifer answered honestly, catching sight of the servant recording everything. The noble nodded, chatted casually for a few more moments, then someone came in to report another matter, and he left the tent with his servant.
Left alone, Lucifer's stomach was already growling with hunger. His eyes fell upon a basket of fragrant little round buns on the servant's table—white bread, a rare luxury with not a trace of bran. He swallowed hard. He imagined the taste as he stuffed one into his mouth, saliva pooling, yet he never raised his hand to snatch one and hide it in his pocket.
After who knew how long, the noble returned with his servant. He glanced at the untouched basket of bread and smiled warmly as he told Lucifer that he had passed. He could go collect two sets of clothes and bedding.
But this was only the beginning.
If he couldn't endure the training, he would still be eliminated and would never become one of the prince's soldiers.
Lucifer didn't see the knight he had served among those who passed. Later, he learned one of the selection standards:
Braggarts were rejected.
That knight—who had brought him to Summerhall and changed the course of his life—had been a decent man. He simply shouldn't have boasted in the selection tent about strangling a venomous snake thicker than a man while in Dorne.
In truth, Prince Viserys had modeled Summerhall's recruitment standards after a force from his former world known as the "Qi Family Army."
Braggarts—rejected.Cowards—rejected.Those who clung arrogantly to knightly status—rejected.Those with tendencies toward theft—rejected.
Those chosen were honest-looking men of peasant stock, clear-eyed and steady. If they were youths, strength mattered less. Viserys firmly believed they could be trained into it—and fed into it.
Besides, he had several troop types to work with.
Facing the seven thousand men selected so far, Viserys donned the dragonglass-forged iron armor gifted by his brother and addressed them from horseback.
"Whether there is war or not, you will receive three copper coins every day. You will have white bread and meat every day—eat as much as you like, but eat it all! As you take those coins and swallow that food, remember this: it is the generosity of House Targaryen. From this day forward, no matter where you came from or who you were before, you have only one identity—you are loyal guards of House Targaryen! I will grant you honor and status equal to the Gold Cloaks! You are one whole! Fight for the true dragon, Targaryen!!"
From afar, Lucifer gazed at the silver-haired prince, his heart filled with both awe and excitement.
Then, together with eleven others, he was formed into a small squad. Four squads made a platoon, four platoons a company, four companies a battalion, and four battalions a regiment. Each unit had officers bearing the suffix "-zhang," responsible for those under their command.
Most regiment commanders were knights appointed by Viserys, young men from various noble houses—Arthur Dayne's cousin, members of House Fell, House Caron, House Grandison—good families who, though vassals of the Stormlands, had stood with the crown against Robert in the War of the Usurper. Viserys believed that the lords who had been loyal to House Targaryen in his previous life deserved rich rewards in this one.
Returning now to Lucifer, the last surviving boy of the drylands family.
On his first night as a soldier, the prince dined with them, sharing a lavish meal. After everyone had eaten their fill, the prince began their training.
"Tonight's first step is to make sure you understand orders."
The demand sounded simple. They were ordered to stand straight and motionless, then, on command, to look left, look right, and perform other movements—all in perfect unison. If even one person in a twelve-man squad made a mistake, they had to start over.
Some didn't even know which side was left and which was right. By the end, Lucifer felt more exhausted than after a full day of working the bellows. Yet thinking of the golden-haired Young Dragon Prince and the dream of reviving his family, he clenched his teeth and endured.
Standing was only the beginning.
The next day, long before the sun rose—still at wolf hour—a horn sounded, urging them awake. Their bedding had to be folded neatly, they washed up, then ran—
Yes, ran back and forth along the Kingsroad.
The last twelve-man group to finish had to do twenty "push-ups."
This was their first group morning run, and it was utterly miserable. At breakfast, Lucifer swallowed six pork-and-vegetable pies in one go.
In the morning, divided by platoons, they sat in stone-built rooms to learn how to read and write. The prince required them to first be able to write their own names, as well as the names of everyone in their squad. There would be examinations.
Lucifer's head buzzed at the thought.
Lunch was fresh wheat rice, eggs, large chunks of stewed pork trotter, and as much onion fish soup as anyone could drink.
After eating, they were allowed a short rest. But when the sun blazed overhead, everyone was ordered back into formation to march in step. The best-performing twelve-man squads were then the first to enter archery and horseback training.
By nightfall—bat hour—came dinner. Mountains of apples were freely available in the "canteen," along with enormous slabs of roasted lamb ribs. Everyone could get a huge portion, yet most were so exhausted that the simple pumpkin and minced meat stew, easy to gulp down, became the most popular.
Was the day's hardship over?
No.
After dinner, everyone had to bathe. Then they gathered again in the rooms where they had studied earlier. First, they listened to the legendary tales of the famed knight Duncan and King Aegon. Then, starting from how Duncan had risen from common birth to great deeds, everyone was asked to recount their own pasts.
Lucifer realized that he was not the most miserable among them.
There was a young man from the Westerlands—
"I remember my parents were beekeepers. I once had a younger sister. Our family traveled constantly between the Westerlands and the Reach. But one day, on the road, we encountered a knight with retainers. He accused my parents of failing to yield the road in time and sentenced them to death. Right in front of us, he hanged them from a great oak by the roadside.
"My sister kept crying. The knight said she was too noisy and took out a dagger, cutting out her tongue. She kept bleeding. I knelt beneath the tree, unable to take my parents down no matter what I did. After three days and three nights, flies gathered on them like bees on a hive—
"My sister couldn't eat anymore. She lay in my arms, and she didn't make it. Barefoot, I prayed to the Seven. Was there anyone who could help me? I walked until I reached a village, and then I collapsed."
"A kind old man saved me. He even gave me an axe for chopping wood, allowing me to cut the rope from my parents' necks and bury them in the village graveyard. But my sister still died the next day, and I buried her beside our parents."
"Later, the old man adopted me. Before he died, I married his only granddaughter. I would have cared for her all my life, but perhaps the Seven cursed me. My wife died in childbirth, and the child in her womb didn't survive either. My poor Annie—when she died, her big blue eyes were still open. I buried her beside my sister's grave. Though they never met, I think they would have been good friends. Both so fragile, so kind."
"Having lost everything, I decided to come and serve the prince, to become his soldier."
After the Westerlander finished speaking, Lucifer felt that this was not the whole story.
Later, he and this man—named Karen—became close friends, like brothers. During their campaign against Dorne, while camping in the desert, Karen finally told him the rest.
"All my family and loved ones were gone. I sat by the roadside in a daze, when one day I suddenly saw a familiar sigil—a banner. It belonged to the knight who had hanged my parents. Red field, black lion—or perhaps a scorpion. His armor was still gleaming, riding a tall horse, as if nothing had ever happened—"
"I don't know what came over me. I followed them. He was pale yet fat, with small eyes. I followed him quietly, wanting to kill him, but also afraid of him. Then I heard him talking in a tavern about how the Prince of Summerhall was recruiting soldiers. That gave me an excuse to stop following him. If I were discovered, I'd be hanged from a tree. I should go serve the prince instead. Brother, that's why you see me here. I'm a coward."
"No, Karen. You made the right decision," Lucifer said, pointing toward the ruins of Hellholt in the heart of the desert. "Unarmed, attacking a knight would only have gotten you killed. Do you know? No one from House Uller survived. That was my enemy. My drylands family finally took revenge after hundreds of years. And you—you'll have your revenge even sooner than I did."
...
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"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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(End Chapter)