On the training grounds of House Grafton, a wooden platform had been erected. Rhaegar, Ser Barristan, Sessa, Ser Brynden, Lord Jon, and Ser Joffrey Arryn stood on the platform, facing the crowd below.
Behind these six stood the three main lords of Gulltown, the Septon, and representatives of the wealthy merchants.
A large group of young men stood in the training yard.
Rhaegar had donned a silver brocade robe embroidered with crystal dragons. The tailors of Gulltown truly lived up to their reputation.
Standing in the center, Rhaegar looked even more radiant and spirited, shining like a proud sun.
This is child's play. Real war is not like this. Real war is slaughter, grief, destruction, and darkness. Even if Prince Rhaegar defeated those knights, at his age, he likely prefers chasing fashionable honors, gorgeous clothes, or even early spring maidens. The battlefield is no game, Lord Jon thought as he watched Rhaegar. This is just a prince playing house.
Lord Jon shed his usual amiable mentor persona, becoming cold and ruthless, the true Lord of the Eyrie. He wore a blue and white robe with a moon-and-falcon gem pinned to his chest.
Beside the training ground, many dignitaries and wealthy merchants of Gulltown had come to cheer, many of them parents of the guards.
The Septon of Gulltown shouted excitedly; he had pushed his cousin's son into the order overnight. Rhaegar knew the boy was likely the product of the Septon's adultery. Though the Faith of the Seven shone bright, septons were not necessarily pious. The Vale noble Ser Joffrey had provided Rhaegar with plenty of intelligence.
Rhaegar looked down at the guards standing there. After Sessa, Barristan, Brynden, and Ser Joffrey screened the files overnight and arranged physical tests, disease checks, self-care checks, and age verification early this morning, one hundred guards were finally selected through layers of screening.
Rhaegar wanted no idlers, no sickly youths, no one with a set physique, and certainly no gamblers, drunks, or lechers. The guard had no grooms or cooks for now, and camp followers were out of the question; everyone had to be self-sufficient.
"Your Grace, honestly, your requirements are too harsh. By your standards, the Gold Cloaks would have been disbanded long ago," Ser Brynden joked with a laugh.
Barristan, Brynden, and the third staff member had screened all night and tested all morning. Staying up all night was truly a chore.
We work so hard today to prevent a second Gold Cloaks from appearing, Rhaegar thought.
Lord Jon soon realized that the standards of Rhaegar and his companions far exceeded his expectations. From personnel selection to formation review, everything was meticulous.
"I didn't expect the fame of the Gold Cloaks to reach the Riverlands," Rhaegar replied with a smile. Ser Brynden had keen judgment and high martial skill. If not for the discord with his brother Lord Hoster, he wouldn't be following Rhaegar.
The incompetence and shame of the Gold Cloaks were notorious across the Seven Kingdoms; they excelled at collecting inflated salaries, gambling, and whoring, but perhaps not at fighting. They were no match for the garrisons of Lannisport or Oldtown. This force had limited combat power and couldn't even thoroughly suppress King's Landing. The Gold Cloaks were already somewhat corrupt; perhaps building a new guard from scratch was the better choice.
Rhaegar looked around at his young guards. Their ages, complexions, and backgrounds varied, ranging from eleven or twelve to fourteen or fifteen. But after rigorous training, this army would be completely different from any before it.
This is my legion of steel. My legend begins now.
Rhaegar decided to name this guard the Eagle Guard. The flag's colors must align with the Targaryen black and red, creating a symmetry with the black dragon on red. Today it is the Eagle Guard; tomorrow it will be the Eagle Legion.
The Eagle Army officially set sail. Rhaegar counted the numbers; the backgrounds of these guards were truly diverse.
Scions of Vale powerhouses like Lord Jon, the Vale knights, and Gulltown lords; children fostered by other Vale lords; sons of wealthy Gulltown merchants—all were present. In addition, there were impoverished nobles, second sons seeking a livelihood, and occasionally talented children of farmers and craftsmen.
Except for those with no hope or eldest sons who were too old, most were young firstborns. For these noble lords, the opportunity to follow the Prince far outweighed the danger, especially when risks always existed.
Even in House Lannister, it was only after two or three heirs died that Tywin's father, the third son, inherited the lordship.
Rhaegar carefully observed the guards' muscles, skin color, and teeth; they were well-nourished, unlike peasant children. There was no helping it; this era remained cruel.
Essentially, they were all powerful, high-status, well-fed, and well-educated. Quality over quantity—this was an elite force.
Rhaegar looked at these young men, his heart filled with joy. From nothing, I begin to have my own army.
Rhaegar cleared his throat and spoke: "Gentlemen, today is the founding day of our small guard. I announce a few rules first. First, obey orders; obedience is your sacred duty. For now, that means obeying me, Ser Barristan, Ser Brynden, Master Sessa, and Ser Joffrey. Second, care for your comrades; no discrimination or bullying. Third, care for the commoners; no bullying the people or harassing women. Fourth, rewards and punishments must be clear; merits and faults must be recorded."
As Rhaegar's words fell, everyone felt a tightness in their hearts.
Rhaegar's unit was clearly not playing house; their rules were stricter than the regular army.
A true gem of House Targaryen. Is greatness engraved on this side of the coin?
Lord Jon was deeply moved. Those who respected noble blood yet pitied the common people were rare indeed. Most thought everything was a gift from the gods because they were born rich, rather than feeling gratitude toward the land and people.
Barristan, Brynden, Sessa, and Joffrey Arryn also felt immensely honored. This would be a true dragon.
These guards came from different classes and backgrounds. Rhaegar would need immense effort to forge them into true steel, but he felt it was worth it. Just as a spark can ignite a fire.
The crowd was silent. Prince Rhaegar's voice was cold as iron, and no one dared refute him. If the Prince's words were true, this would truly be an iron legion.
"Bring the wine!" Rhaegar shouted. Hearing this, servants in the corners stepped forward, serving a cup of Gulltown golden wine to every guard.
Rhaegar, Sessa, Barristan, and the others also raised their golden cups, engraved with a soaring eagle flying over white clouds.
The eagle on the golden cup was lifelike, its eyes set with sapphires. This golden wine cup was a gift from Ser Roland Arryn of Gulltown.
From today on, Rhaegar would also be a soaring eagle. I will write my own history.
"You volunteered to become my guards without the permission of the Iron Throne in King's Landing. Your loyalty is hard to repay; Rhaegar thanks each and every one of you." Rhaegar raised his cup, bowed in thanks, then toasted the crowd.
The young guards flushed red; they raised their cups and drank the wine of honor together.
Noble ladies and young girls watching were intoxicated by the sight. Prince Rhaegar was truly a prince of dreams: handsome, majestic, and gallant.
Though these guards were young and inexperienced, they felt immense glory in this moment. A bright future lay before them.
After the first cup was emptied, the second was poured.
Everyone drank together again. Though the wine was light, almost like water, it brought a pleasant buzz.
"Gentlemen, we now have the third cup, but this one is drunk differently. I will use this cup to toast everyone first!"
Rhaegar drew a shining longsword. The blade was about a palm wide, sharp and indestructible.
Rhaegar walked down from the platform, dragging the longsword.
Rhaegar's expression was serious, without a trace of a smile.
People exchanged glances, wondering what new trick this third cup entailed.
Lord Jon widened his eyes, watching the Prince approach the guards.
"Place the cup on the blade. I want to toast my brothers," Rhaegar ordered a servant. Seeing the gleaming sword, bright as the sun, the servant panicked—they hadn't known of this ritual beforehand.
"Let me handle it," Sessa said, walking down the platform with a flagon.
As Rhaegar passed, guards placed their cups on the sword with trembling fingers, while Sessa filled them.
Rhaegar wielded the longsword, presenting the wine to the guards, the blade shimmering and dazzling.
"Drink this cup!"
The first guard, a blonde, blue-eyed youth, looked at the shining blade; his legs trembled slightly, and his throat tightened.
He watched Rhaegar's sword point directly at his body, genuinely feeling the Prince could kill him in one strike. But being a noble son skilled in arms, he snatched the cup from the sword tip as if escaping death.
First cup! Second cup! Third cup!
Rhaegar walked to every guard, repeating the action.
The training ground fell silent; everyone watched Rhaegar toast.
It was hard to say if this dragon was mad or cunning.
Rhaegar extended his arm, offered the toast, then retracted the sword, repeating this one hundred times.
This was also a powerful display of force. The wine cup remained motionless, proving the Prince's extraordinary stamina and martial skill.
Toast complete, Rhaegar drained the wine from his own golden cup. Returning to the platform, Rhaegar looked around at the guards. Most were still shaken, forcing calm, their faces alternating between pale and flushed.
"Gentlemen, having drunk this wine, we are brothers. Today, I drink from the golden cup with you. However, if you retreat on the battlefield, bully your comrades, harass commoners, or deceive your superiors, my sharp sword will show no mercy. If you break your oath, your fate will be no different from this object." Rhaegar's words were hard as iron. He swung the longsword, cleaving a shield in two.
We drink from the golden cup together, but the white blade will show no mercy.
The gazes from below converged, reflecting fear, shock, admiration, or praise.
Lord Jon was startled. This young dragon, though small in size, already possessed the nature to devour an ox.
Rhaegar's Eagle Army was officially established!