In the year 267 AC, the Vale of Arryn, at the Gates of the Moon.
The weather was gradually warming. Before long, perhaps Rhaegar would be able to enjoy the view from the Eyrie.
However, Rhaegar had no desire to climb to the peak; the horn of war had already sounded.
In this operation, even if Rhaegar did not wipe out the wildlings, he had to bring back dragonbone.
Rhaegar assumed the shepherd girl Nettles likely had no money, but dragonbone was priceless. Sheepstealer was most likely dead.
The only thing people might think of was Prince Daemon's legacy, but the Prince had fought to the death with Aemond; who knew what he had left for Nettles?
For the wildlings of the Mountains of the Moon, the Eagle Guard also anticipated their combat objectives: mountain warfare, specifically guerrilla warfare.
The Gates of the Moon was now torn by argument.
Rhaegar and his guards grew stronger by the day, and the guards chose war; they craved honor as they craved love.
Rhaegar established an independent camp, forbidding women from entering. The guards honed their will and physique daily. War is a bloody drill, and a drill is a bloodless war.
"The Prince treats war as a game, and you aid and abet him. You have abandoned your knightly honor like clowns." Lord Jon was furious, reprimanding Rhaegar and his retinue. He was truly like an angry falcon, and no one dared refute him. The gap in status and seniority between Lord Jon and everyone except Rhaegar was simply too great.
Rhaegar looked at Lord Jon, wondering whether to call him cautious or seasoned.
Rhaegar found the Vale's battle plans too conservative. The Mountains of the Moon protected the Vale but also restricted its movement; they had been fighting the mountain clans forever. By contrast, in the North, many mountain clans had long been vassals of House Stark. This might also relate to race; the Vale was predominantly Andal, while the wildlings were descendants of the First Men, and the North was almost entirely First Men.
Ser Barristan, Ser Brynden, Sessa, Ser Joffrey Arryn, and the others did not object.
Even if they refused, their authority was far less than Lord Jon's. Besides, they had confidence in Rhaegar's martial skill; having four knights as backup was a significant guarantee. Moreover, warriors always craved honor.
The Mountains of the Moon bred mountain clans who, for years, had stood between the Vale and the outside world, burning, killing, and looting, angering almost every noble. Even Brynden Tully had friends and kin who had died at the hands of wildlings.
"In any case, your plan will not pass my approval. Without my decree, you will never pass the Bloody Gate. The wildlings are all warriors; united, they number at least three thousand. Even lacking equipment and armor, they are fierce fighters. Your Grace, have your guards ever seen blood? Your force is a drop in the ocean. If the Prince falls into danger, I cannot explain it to the Iron Throne." Lord Jon's tone was firm. Even though Prince Rhaegar had two younger brothers, they could not compare to him; he absolutely could not let Rhaegar take risks.
Hearing about the Bloody Gate decree, Rhaegar's eyes lit up.
Seeing Lord Jon's firm stance, everyone fell silent.
Under the night sky at the Gates of the Moon tavern, the aroma of fine wine, food, and roast meat filled the air. Rhaegar summoned Sessa, Brynden, Joffrey, and the others, doing his best to persuade Lord Jon to drink a few more cups. Lord Jon seemed a bit tipsy, and everyone was slightly drunk.
As the night deepened, Rhaegar quietly slipped into Lord Jon's solar.
The Blue Knight at the door saw Prince Rhaegar but dared not stop him too forcefully, and the Captain of the Guard was absent.
Rhaegar crept into the room, pondering the location of the Moon-and-Falcon seal, and found it smoothly. Rhaegar glanced at Lord Jon, who was drunk and dazed.
In the name of Jon Arryn: "Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, I command you to let Prince Rhaegar and his guards pass." Rhaegar took the wax and stamped the Moon-and-Falcon seal on the paper.
Rhaegar looked at the decree; with this document, he could "steal the tally," enter the mountains, and pass through the Bloody Gate.
The Lord was a cunning man too.
Rhaegar pondered for a moment, then tiptoed out of the room.
"We got the thing! We must leave the Gates of the Moon immediately and strike camp!" Holding the decree, Rhaegar spoke to Sessa, Brynden, and the others waiting anxiously in the courtyard.
Sessa, Brynden, Ser Barristan, and the rest nodded. Since Rhaegar had taken this step, they could only follow the Prince.
A few among them felt excited. Since war was inevitable, they chose war.
Rhaegar shouted, then led Barristan and the others to flee the Gates of the Moon, rushing toward the military camp.
Lord Jon watched their retreating figures from the window, his eyes complex.
The Captain of the Guard, Ser Matt Arryn, silently appeared beside Lord Jon, watching Rhaegar and the others leave the Gates of the Moon as if flying.
"Lord Jon, why didn't you stop Prince Rhaegar from using the seal just now? We can still stop him." Ser Matt Arryn asked.
"This is the greatest support I can give Prince Rhaegar. If I supported him openly, I couldn't face the Iron Throne. Rhaegar is much younger than Elbert, yet he exudes the blood of a conqueror. And our Elbert, though much older than the Prince, has no extraordinary qualities." Lord Jon sighed.
Ser Matt fell silent. He was also an Arryn, but his place in the succession was too far back. He had no right to speak on the chaotic situation of the Vale succession.
"Go count our men. Let Joffrey Arryn keep in close contact with us. We sent him there because we thought him cunning. Prince Rhaegar can explore the Mountains of the Moon, but he cannot leave our control."
Even with lofty honor, the rise of House Arryn was inseparable from shadow plays. Artys Arryn had once had someone impersonate him in a charge while he flanked from the side; war was always inseparable from strategy.
Elsewhere in the Gates of the Moon, the Vale's second-in-line heir and Keeper of the Gates, Elbert Arryn, tossed and turned. He had been suffering from insomnia lately, worried sick.
Elbert watched Rhaegar's retreating figure. He truly envied the Prince—heroic, like a soaring eagle; everyone loved him.
Damn this fate. His uncle was nearly fifty; how could he still have an heir? Once the child was born, his winter had come.
All those sweet words, the women, merchants, and knights who had surrounded him, calling him Elbert, the Young Falcon King, the Darling of Fortune—all had scattered now.
"My lord, you are as precarious as melting snow; once the sun rises, you will vanish. According to news from King's Landing, the heir Raynal is very healthy and grows stronger by the day. Lord Jon left many guards in King's Landing to protect the child. Soon, you will no longer hold the post of Keeper," a voice whispered from the shadows.
"My uncle has been Lord for decades; how can I oppose him? When my cousin Raynal grows up, I will support him with all my strength." Elbert's face was full of worry, grinding his teeth. The sycophants around him were fewer now, and those ambitious investors had been purged by his uncle.
"Many things require opportunity. As long as the opportunity comes, you can not only become the heir but rule the Vale ahead of time. Now that Prince Rhaegar is going to the Mountains of the Moon, isn't this the best time?" The figure in the shadows continued to chatter.
Elbert's face grew more unsettled. "No! No! You want me to frame the Prince, frame my uncle? This is absolutely intolerable; we revere honor. Once exposed, I would become a kingslayer, not only killing the Prince but being hanged by the Iron Throne."
"They will die at the hands of wildlings; what does it have to do with you?" The voice in the shadows spoke again, seeming to tempt Elbert.
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