When the party left Maidenpool that early morning, the direction of Crackclaw Point was already shrouded in a layer of grey mist.
Daemon Blackfyre pulled the reins of his horse, looking back at the steaming heat of Jonquil's Pool. The hot spring there seemed to still be whispering stories of Jaehaerys and Alysanne.
Gael circled low on Dreamfyre behind The Cannibal. Mysaria's platinum-blonde curls peeked out from behind the dragon saddle like a strand of silk lifted by the wind.
"Daemon, can't you ride The Cannibal?" Gael's voice drifted down on the wind. "Lord Simon's messenger said he's been waiting at Rook's Rest since early morning."
Daemon nodded and shook the reins. The retinue marched east along the coastline road.
Rook's Rest sat on the hills of the north shore of Blackwater Bay, looking from afar like a raven with folded wings.
The banner of House Staunton flew from the tower top; the black-and-grey checkered field with a white stripe and black wings snapped in the wind.
Lord Simon Staunton was already waiting under the gate. He was younger than Daemon imagined, with a straight back and eyes carved like knives, sharp as a falcon scrutinizing prey.
His wife, Lady Staunton, stood beside him, wearing a decent grey dress and a gentle smile.
"Welcome, Prince Daemon, Princess Gael." Lord Simon's voice was a bit hoarse but sincere. "Rook's Rest is simple; I hope Your Highnesses do not disdain it."
"You are too polite, my Lord." Daemon dismounted, the scabbard of Blackfyre clicking lightly on the flagstones. "It is our honor to rest in your castle."
After entering the castle, Lord Simon specifically took them to visit the room where Princess Daella had stayed before marrying into the Vale.
A faded tapestry hung on the wall, depicting the story of a squire and a maiden. "Princess Daella and I..." The Earl's voice dropped, carrying a trace of melancholy. "She was Lady Aemma's mother. As His Grace's squire, I always secretly took the Princess drinking. Once we were caught by His Grace and punished to copy The Seven-Pointed Star a hundred times. That time, the Princess even threatened to break off our friendship..."
He smiled, tears unexpectedly appearing at the corners of his eyes. "Youthful ignorance. Back then, I always felt Princess Daella was a star in the sky, unreachable."
"The Princess is very like your sister; both possess the brightness of House Targaryen." He looked at Gael, a flash of tenderness in his eyes.
Gael's cheeks turned slightly red as she whispered, "Thank you, my Lord."
At the evening banquet, Lord Simon proactively brought up the situation in Crackclaw Point, where the party was headed. His tone was grave: "That place has never been peaceful. The Brunes and the Crabbs fight openly and secretly, and there are many wildlings; it's trouble." He filled Daemon's cup. "Prince, please be careful on this journey."
Daemon nodded in thanks. He knew the chaos of Crackclaw Point; those petty lords ruling their patches of land were all stubborn and pugnacious as crabs.
Early the next morning, the party left Rook's Rest. Lord Simon insisted on seeing them to the gate. Before parting, he shoved a dagger inlaid with rubies into Daemon's hand. "This was bestowed by His Grace when I was young. It's said to ward off evil. Take it, Prince; perhaps it can turn bad luck into good."
Daemon accepted the dagger and bowed solemnly. The retinue spurred their horses, heading toward Crackclaw Point along the coast road.
Since leaving King's Landing, this Earl is the only one who hasn't shoved a follower onto me...
The closer they got to Crackclaw Point, the rougher the road became. Trees became sparse, replaced by exposed rock and overgrown thorns.
Several days later at dusk, they finally arrived at the Dyre Den. This seat of House Brune sat on a towering cliff by the sea. Three crooked towers leaned on each other like drunkards, the walls covered in dark green vines.
Lord Brune had received the news and was welcoming them at the castle gate with his family. "Welcome, Prince Daemon." Lord Brune was a burly man with a scar stretching from forehead to chin. "The conditions at the Dyre Den are simple; I apologize for the slight."
"My Lord, no need for formalities." Daemon smiled. "Building a castle in such a precipitous place is proof enough of House Brune's tenacity."
Lord Brune laughed loudly. "The Prince flatters us. We are just rough folk guarding a cliff."
Dinner was simple but hearty: roast boar, stewed clams, black bread, and home-brewed ale. Lord Brune's wife was a woman of few words, silently serving everyone food and drink. Their son was full of curiosity about the followers Daemon brought, pestering Rayford with questions.
Late at night, Daemon stood by the cliff edge, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks.
Gael quietly walked to his side, whispering, "What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about Lord Simon's words." Daemon looked at the dark sea surface in the distance. "Crackclaw Point is indeed not simple."
"Don't think too much," Gael leaned on his shoulder. "There's still a long road tomorrow." Daemon held her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm.
Memories of his past life surged like a tide—the wars, betrayals, deaths—making him cherish the tranquility of this moment even more. However, this tranquility of the past few days did not last long.
At dawn the next day, just as the sky turned pale, urgent hoofbeats came from outside the castle.
Startled awake, Daemon threw on a cloak and walked to the window, seeing a knight roll off his horse and stumble toward the castle gate.
"I am Rupert Crabb!" the knight's voice was hoarse and tearful. "I must see Prince Daemon and Lord Brune! Quickly!"
Daemon's heart tightened, and he hurried downstairs. Rupert Crabb knelt in the center of the hall, armor covered in dust and blood, face filled with terror. "Prince Daemon, I beg you, save us!"
"What happened?" Daemon asked in a deep voice.
"Wildlings! It's wildlings!" Rupert's voice trembled. "They have occupied our family's abandoned ancestral seat, the Whispers, using it as a base to attack our town! My father and brothers are resisting, but we are short of men and can't hold out much longer!"
Lord Brune arrived upon hearing the news, his face grim. "The Whispers? That place has been abandoned for years; how could wildlings occupy it?"
"I don't know!" Rupert shook his head. "They appeared in the Whispers as if popping out of the ground. The terrain there is precipitous, easy to defend and hard to attack; we can't take it." He looked at Daemon, eyes full of pleading. "Prince, my uncle is Ser Clement Crabb of the Kingsguard. He wrote recently saying you are the bravest Prince of House Targaryen. I beg you, have mercy and save House Crabb!"
Daemon was silent for a moment. He knew the Whispers—an ancient ruin standing atop a cliff on Crackclaw Point, rumored to be haunted. Wildlings occupying it as a base was indeed big trouble. "Lord Brune," Daemon looked at the Earl, "are you familiar with the Whispers?"
Lord Brune nodded. "Been there a few times. It is indeed dangerous. The castle is built of ancient unmortared stone, very sturdy. Though the curtain walls by the cliff have collapsed somewhat, the main towers are intact." He paused. "The most troublesome thing is that the seawater has eroded many hollows under the cliff. When waves pass through, they make strange sounds, disorienting people."
Daemon looked at Rayford and the other followers beside him. "Are you willing to go with me?"
Rayford stepped forward without hesitation. "Where the Prince goes, we go!"
The other young men responded one after another, excitement flashing in their eyes.
Daemon nodded and said to Rupert, "Get up. We will go with you to take a look." He turned to Gael. "You stay here and wait for my news."
Gael shook her head. "I'm going with you. Dreamfyre might be able to help."
Daemon thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. He looked at Lord Brune. "My Lord, please look after Mysaria and our luggage."
Lord Brune bowed. "Rest assured, Prince. I will also bring troops to support you soon."
Soon, Daemon led Rayford and over twenty other young men, along with his guards and squires, following Rupert toward the Whispers. Gael provided air cover on Dreamfyre, the magnificent dragon's shadow casting a cool shade on the rugged mountain road. The Cannibal followed silently at the rear of the procession, ready to spew dragonfire at any moment.
On the way, Rupert told Daemon more about the Whispers: "There is a godswood there. Though abandoned, the weirwood tree remains. There is a large cave under the cliff, said to lead inside the castle, but no one has ever dared to enter."
Daemon listened silently, forming a general impression of the Whispers in his mind. He knew this would be a tough battle.
As the sun rose higher, the mist of Crackclaw Point dispersed, revealing jagged rocks and surging waves. The outline of the Whispers appeared atop the cliff ahead. Ancient stones gleamed with a blue-grey light in the sun, and weeds and red poison ivy entangled the walls like tattered clothing.
Daemon pulled on the reins, looking at the abandoned castle, an ominous feeling in his heart. Because he knew a bloody battle was about to unfold on this desolate land.
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