Chapter 59: Entering the Mountains
267 AC, The Vale, Arryn Valley, the Gate of the Moon
The weather was slowly warming up. In a while, perhaps Rhaegar could also enjoy the scenery of the Eyrie.
However, Rhaegar had no desire to climb to the peak; the horns of war had already sounded.
In this operation, even if Rhaegar did not wipe out the mountain clans, he had to bring back dragon bones.
Rhaegar thought that the shepherdess Nettles probably had no wealth, but dragon bones were extremely valuable. Sheepstealer had a high probability of being dead.
The only thing worth considering might be Prince Daemon Targaryen's legacy, but the prince had gone to fight Aemond One-Eye to the death back then; who knew what he had left for Nettles.
Regarding the mountain clans of the Pale Mountains, the Vale's forces had already anticipated the operational objectives: mountain warfare—specifically guerrilla warfare.
The Gate of the Moon was now torn apart by arguments.
Rhaegar and his guards were growing stronger day by day, and the guards had also chosen war; they craved honor as much as they craved glory.
Rhaegar established a separate military camp and did not allow women to enter. The guards honed their willpower and bodies every day. War is a bloody exercise, and training is a bloodless war.
"The prince treats war as a game, and you encourage his recklessness. You abandon knightly honor like clowns."
Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East, flushed with anger as he rebuked Rhaegar and his retinue. He truly looked like an enraged falcon, and no one dared contradict him.
Except for Rhaegar—between everyone else and Jon Arryn, the gap in status and seniority was simply too great.
Rhaegar looked at Lord Jon Arryn, wondering whether to call him cautious or seasoned.
Rhaegar felt that the Vale's battle plan was too conservative. The Pale Mountains protected the Vale but also shackled it; they had fought the mountain clans for generations. In contrast, in the North, many mountain clans had already become vassals of House Stark.
This might also be related to bloodlines—the Vale was dominated by Andals, while the mountain clans were descendants of the First Men. The North, meanwhile, remained largely First Men.
Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, Brynden Tully, Cesar, and others did not object.
Even if they did, their authority was far below that of Jon Arryn. Moreover, they trusted Rhaegar's martial ability. With several seasoned knights accompanying him, there was at least some assurance.
And warriors always yearned for honor.
The Pale Mountains had bred the mountain clans, who for years had stood between the Vale and the outside world—burning, killing, and plundering, enraging countless nobles. Even Brynden Tully had relatives and friends who had died at the hands of the clansmen.
"No matter what, your plan will not pass through me. Without my decree, you will not pass through the Bloody Gate," Jon Arryn said firmly.
"The mountain clans are all warriors. If united, they number at least three thousand. Even without proper armor, they are strong and fearless. Prince, have your guards ever seen real blood?"
"Your small force would be swallowed like a drop in the sea. If anything happens to you, I cannot answer to the Iron Throne."
Jon Arryn was resolute. Even if Prince Rhaegar had younger brothers, none could replace him. Jon Arryn could not allow the prince to take such a risk.
Rhaegar's eyes lit up when he heard the words Bloody Gate.
Seeing Jon Arryn's firm stance, no one spoke further.
That night at the Gate of the Moon, under the star-filled sky, the aroma of fine wine, roasted meat, and rich food filled the air.
Rhaegar summoned Cesar, Brynden, Jeff, and others, and together they plied Jon Arryn with wine. Jon Arryn seemed genuinely drunk before long, and soon everyone was half-intoxicated.
As the night deepened, Rhaegar quietly entered Jon Arryn's chambers.
The falcon-cloaked guard at the door, seeing Prince Rhaegar, dared not stop him. The captain of the guard was not present.
Rhaegar slipped inside, recalled where the Crescent Falcon seal was kept, and found it without difficulty. He glanced at Jon Arryn, who lay drunk and muddled.
"In the name of Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East, I command that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his guards be permitted to pass through."
Rhaegar pressed the wax seal down firmly, stamping the Crescent Falcon onto the parchment.
With this decree, he could steal the tally and enter the mountains—passing through the Bloody Gate.
Jon Arryn was no fool.
After a moment's thought, Rhaegar quietly left the chamber.
"We have it," Rhaegar said urgently, holding up the decree before Cesar, Brynden, Ser Barristan, and the others waiting in the courtyard. "Break camp immediately. We leave the Gate of the Moon at once."
Cesar, Brynden, and Ser Barristan all nodded. Since Rhaegar had taken this step, they could only follow him.
Excitement flickered in their eyes. Since war was unavoidable, they would choose war.
Rhaegar led them swiftly out of the Gate of the Moon and toward the military camp.
From a window above, Jon Arryn watched their departing figures, his expression unreadable.
Ser Matt Arryn, the captain of the household guard, appeared silently beside him.
"Lord Arryn," Ser Matt said quietly, "why did you allow Prince Rhaegar to take the seal? We could still stop him, even now."
"This is the greatest support I can give him," Jon Arryn sighed. "If I openly backed him, I could not face the Iron Throne."
"Rhaegar is far younger than Elbert, yet he already shows the blood of the Conqueror. As for Elbert… though older, he lacks such brilliance."
Ser Matt fell silent. Though an Arryn himself, his place in the succession was far too distant for him to comment.
"Go and count our men," Jon Arryn continued. "Have Joffrey Arryn maintain constant contact. Prince Rhaegar may explore the Pale Mountains—but he must not leave our control."
Even a house as honorable as House Arryn had risen through cunning as well as valor. Artys Arryn himself had once used deception in battle. War and guile were never truly separate.
Elsewhere in the Gate of the Moon, Ser Elbert Arryn, Jon Arryn's heir and the knight in command of the castle, was also sleepless.
Lately, worry had robbed him of rest.
Elbert watched Rhaegar's departing figure. He truly envied the prince—spirited, radiant, like a falcon soaring freely. Everyone admired him.
This cursed fate… how could his uncle, nearly fifty, still have another child?
When that child was born, Elbert's winter had begun.
The flattering words, the merchants, the knights who once surrounded him—those who called him the Young Falcon, the darling of fortune—had all vanished.
"Ser," a voice whispered from the shadows, "you are now like melting snow. Once the sun rises, you will disappear."
"According to news from King's Landing, the young heir Rennal is very healthy and growing stronger by the day. Lord Arryn has stationed many guards to protect the child. Soon, you will no longer hold your current position."
Elbert clenched his teeth. "My uncle has ruled the Vale for decades. How could I oppose him? When my younger brother Rennal comes of age, I will serve him loyally."
"Many things require only an opportunity," the shadowed figure murmured. "Prince Rhaegar marches into the Pale Mountains—does that not present the perfect chance?"
Elbert's face darkened. "No. You want me to frame the prince… to betray my uncle? That is impossible."
"We Arryns are bound by honor. If this were exposed, I would be condemned as a traitor—and blamed for the prince's death. The Iron Throne would hang me."
"They would die at the hands of mountain clans," the voice replied softly. "What would that have to do with you?"
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