Rogue Prince Daemon

Rogue Prince—Daemon

"No!"

Gero blanched and hastily backed away.

The next second.

Ser Steve and Gonsal drew their swords, pressing them to his throat without a word.

Aemon thrust hard, driving the sword tip through the leather armor and against the soft flesh of his abdomen.

Gero was terrified. He had not expected a child to truly dare strike so ruthlessly.

He hurriedly looked to Lady Rhea for help.

Lady Rhea turned her head and ignored him outright.

Gero's face went ashen.

"Ser, did you not hear me clearly?"

Aemon pressed forward step by step, his voice neither loud nor soft. "Or do you not understand proper etiquette and need to be taught?"

The Bronze Sword slowly twisted in his hand, cutting open a slit in the leather armor.

Gero tried to stop him, but the two cold blades at his shoulders shifted, their icy edges pressing against the skin of his neck.

There was no way back.

Gero trembled all over. The pressure shattered his mental defenses, and with a thud, he dropped to one knee.

"Prince, I apologize."

Gero squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and honestly admitted his mistake.

Aemon regarded him coldly. The Bronze Sword rested against his throat, and the fingers gripping its hilt tightened slightly.

"Enough!"

Lady Rhea spoke up at the right moment, dispelling whatever her son had intended to do next.

If this continued, he might very well imitate his father's utterly reckless way of doing things.

Aemon paused for two seconds and suppressed the anger in his heart.

He had wanted to stab the man to death.

Lady Rhea rose and stepped forward, gripping the ancient sword she had just wiped clean. She said formally, "Cousin, my son has made his choice. You must do the same."

Gero opened his eyes, looking confused.

Lady Rhea knocked aside the other two swords and laid the ancient sword across Gero's shoulder. "Aemon is my heir. I want you to swear fealty to him."

With that, she passed the hilt to her son.

Aemon was slightly stunned as he took hold of the ancient sword, which seemed noticeably heavier.

A notification sounded beside his ear.

Item containing magic detected. Magic Essence acquired +10.

Aemon carefully examined the ancient sword and recognized it as Lament, House Royce's Valyrian Steel Family Sword.

Lament had a long, slender blade, its surface rippling with wave-like patterns.

Its hilt was over a foot long, and runes were engraved on either side of its crossguard, giving it a heavy, unadorned air.

Lady Rhea glanced at him. "One day, it will belong to you."

Gero remained silent.

He knew he had no right to refuse.

Having prepared himself, Gero lowered his head as though accepting his fate and began his oath. "I, Gero Royce, pledge loyalty to Lady Rhea and her heir."

"I swear to them that I shall faithfully protect my lord, do my utmost against their enemies, remain wholly loyal, and never deceive them."

After a pause, he said devoutly, "The Old and New Gods bear witness to this oath."

Lady Rhea nodded in satisfaction and looked at her sword-bearing son.

After hesitating briefly, Aemon answered as if inspiration had suddenly struck him. "I, Prince Aemon Targaryen, accept your fealty."

Then, following the oath of fealty, he made a vow of protection.

He vowed never to insult, neglect, or disgrace Gero's name, and to grant him trust, generosity, and honor.

Finally, he promised, "There will always be a place for you by my hearth."

"Thank you, Prince."

Gero bowed his head deeply, exposing his vulnerable neck.

Holding Lament, Aemon lightly tapped Gero's head and each shoulder in turn, completing the oath.

"Not bad."

Lady Rhea gave her assessment, pointedly glancing at Gonsal.

Gonsal pretended not to notice and sheathed his two-handed greatsword.

Aemon saw it but did not press the matter.

Gonsal looked crude, but he possessed his own pride.

Aemon was still young and had yet to earn the man's complete recognition.

Gero slowly rose to his feet and knowingly stepped aside.

From this day onward, he was Aemon Targaryen's Sworn Knight.

He could not betray him, nor could he slacken in his duties.

Unless he left House Royce, forfeited his honor and standing, and willingly fell into disgrace as a Hedge Knight.

Lady Rhea took back Lament, no longer in the mood to continue talking.

"Mom, we're leaving first."

Aemon was very self-aware, and the others followed behind him.

William was the most excited. He snatched back the newly customized Two-Part Banner and bustled around Prince Aemon.

One banner had earned them a Sworn Knight.

Amazing.

Aemon shoved him away in disgust, then turned and gave Gero a few instructions, offering him a little comfort.

He felt awkward and did not particularly want to accept the man.

But their blood ties remained. He could neither refuse him nor easily get rid of him.

On second thought.

Lord Huang had once said that one should either accept someone or kill them.

He had accomplished the former and gained far more from it.

His guard squad had gained another member.

After leaving the hall.

Gero stepped forward silently and knelt on one knee again. "Prince, I have five hundred Archers under my command. They will all acknowledge you."

As he spoke, his gaze fell upon the rolled-up Two-Part Banner.

The meaning was obvious: provided that banner was flown.

"I understand, Ser."

Aemon helped him up.

Gero held no low status in Runestone.

Runestone's lands were vast and fertile, and its taxes were enough to support three thousand soldiers.

Among them were eight hundred Cavalry, traditionally under the lord's command.

There were one thousand Archers, managed by two commanders.

There were twelve hundred Infantry, trained once every half month by Runestone's Trainer.

With Mom—Lady Rhea—supporting him, and Gonsal serving as the Trainer of the Infantry.

Now that Gero had sworn fealty, more than half of Runestone's forces were loyal to him.

It was safe to say it was settled!

In the blink of an eye, it was mid-May.

The Vale's climate was pleasant, with grass growing everywhere and orioles fluttering through the air.

Runestone, front courtyard.

Aemon looked serious, a wooden sword in his right hand.

"Prince, watch your breathing rhythm."

Ser Steve acted as his sparring partner, attacking from above with a wooden sword, his movements growing faster and faster.

Aemon planted his feet firmly and blocked every attack.

Even when an occasional lapse left him struck, he quickly adjusted himself.

In the two months since then, many things had changed.

Aemon had grown taller, shooting up from just over a meter to one meter twenty.

His height had increased rapidly, and his body had begun to stretch out as well.

His chubby, fair cheeks had slimmed down somewhat, though they remained pale and smooth, adding a touch more handsomeness.

The fat around his little belly had vanished completely.

He was lean and tall, his silver-gold hair tied behind his head, giving him the air of a youth.

Clang!

Ser Steve shifted with a flash and knocked the wooden sword from his hand.

Aemon caught his breath, ending the spar.

"Prince, your swordsmanship has improved quickly."

Ser Steve bent down to retrieve the wooden sword and advised, "You should consider wielding a sword with both hands. Then you will not be disarmed next time."

Aemon said helplessly, "I'd rather use my left hand."

He did not know why. He could wield a sword with either hand alone, but he simply could not hold one sword with both hands.

Whenever he gripped a sword with both hands, it felt as though someone was fighting him for the hilt, throwing off his balance and making him fall.

He was already considering training with a one-handed sword.

Once his father Daemon kicked the bucket, he could inherit Dark Sister.

The moment the thought arose, it seemed to stir some unseen response.

"Hiss... gaah..."

Suddenly, a piercing roar came from the distance.

Aemon looked up, and his expression instantly changed.

Boom—

A massive crimson creature appeared in the sky, sweeping up a fierce gale as it flew from afar toward Runestone.

Sharp horns, a long serpentine neck, broad and powerful red membranous wings...

"That's Caraxes!"

Aemon froze for a moment, recognizing the dragon.

The dragon's arrival drew more than just his attention.

Its shadow blanketed all of Runestone. Everyone in the front courtyard was cowed by the dragon, their hair whipped into disarray by the wind as they struggled to open their eyes.

"A dragon!!"

Many knights cried out in alarm, rushing to find cover and throwing themselves to the ground, causing even greater chaos.

Aemon watched without blinking, paying them no heed.

"Don't panic! That dragon is Caraxes, Prince Daemon's dragon!"

Ser Steve put on his helmet, shielding Prince Aemon with one hand as he shouted to those around him.

Unfortunately, his voice was drowned out by an even louder dragon roar.

"Hiss... gaah..."

Caraxes's vertical pupils gleamed with gloom as it roared arrogantly, wisps of flame spilling from its sharp dragon snout.

Before everyone's watchful eyes, it circled Runestone three times.

Only after the figure on its back gave the command did it slowly descend onto the thick walls surrounding the front courtyard.

Boom!

As Caraxes landed, it stretched out its long, serpentine neck, its wings braced against the courtyard ground more than a dozen feet below.

This motion fully exposed its back.

Aemon watched from afar and saw the Dragonrider upon its back.

Silver hair and violet eyes—the hallmark of House Targaryen.

Looking more closely, the man had a stern face, a high nose bridge, and wild, unruly brows and eyes. His temperament was exactly like that of the Blood Wyrm, Caraxes, beneath him.

Aemon recognized him at once.

His biological father, Daemon Targaryen.

Knighted at sixteen, personally granted Dark Sister by his great-grandfather Jaehaerys as a reward, and praised by countless people as the Rogue Prince.

Now, perhaps he had already proclaimed himself King of the Gullet.