Late at night, deep in Kingswood.
Iron Mine Cave The mouth is hidden between two rock walls, and the surface is covered with dead vines. Only those who are familiar with the terrain can identify the repeatedly trampled path under the moonlight.
There were still faint sounds of knocking and dragging inside the cave. The miners were transporting the ore they mined during the day and loading it onto the carriage waiting outside the cave.
Three black figures were lurking behind the bushes in the distance and had been observing them quietly for two hours.
"The third car." The dark figure on the far left whispered.
"Each cart should weigh no less than five hundred pounds. According to this method..."
"The monthly output must exceed 5,000 pounds." The black shadow in the middle took over.
"Prince It is a serious crime to mine veins without His Majesty's permission. This alone is enough for the king to take back his territory."
"More than that." The voice of the shadow on the right became deeper, "Look at those guards, with uniform armor, standard spears, and orderly rotation."
"He has trained nearly a thousand troops here, and his territory is still below King's Landing..."
"With the tax revenue from his territory, he can only support 300 armed men even if he dies."
"Now he is mining privately and building a private army of nearly a thousand people with complete armor. What do you think... what does he want to do?"
"What would His Majesty think if he knew that Prince was training a standing army of nearly a thousand people near King's Landing?"
The three of them exchanged glances and understood each other.
What I saw tonight was far beyond expectations.
At this time, the dead vines at the entrance of the cave were lifted, and four miners pushed a heavy mine cart out.
The roof was covered with oilcloth, but dark black ore was exposed in the gaps. The drivers were loading and unloading in silence.
"That's enough," the dark figure in the middle whispered, "Let's retreat and get the news before dawn..."
The words stopped abruptly.
A cold voice came from behind them, as close as if it was next to their ears:
"It's so late, and there are still mice poking around here?"
The three of them were frozen and cold.
Turn back.
Under the moonlight, Aemond·Targaryen stood quietly dozens of steps away, pressing the sword with both hands.
His feet are slightly apart, his center of gravity is lowered, and his arms are loose but full of strength. It is a posture that has been tempered for many years in preparation for battle.
What's even more heart-stopping is what's behind him.
In the shadow of the shrubs, at least twenty figures appeared silently.
Wearing dark green leather armor, the long bow in his hand was ready with an arrow, and the arrowhead glowed coldly in the moonlight.
The leader is "Shadow" Carter, with no expression on his thin face.
They were surrounded.
"Run!" the black shadow in the middle roared.
But it's too late.
Aemond rushed in, as fast as an arrow leaving the string.
The fifteen-year-old body was like a strong bow suddenly stretched, and the swords in his left and right hands turned into an afterimage.
Before the spy on the far left turned around completely, he felt a chill on the side of his neck and warm liquid gushes out.
His field of vision began to rotate. He could see the moonlight, the treetops, and his headless body still maintaining a forward posture, and then everything disappeared into darkness.
The head rolled off the dead leaves and stopped by the fern bushes. His eyes were still open, reflecting the moon in the sky.
The other two people were stunned, looked at each other for a moment, and immediately ran away.
One pounces on the dense bushes on the left, and the other rushes down the steep slope on the right. As long as he jumps down, he can roll into the valley water and escape.
Carter raised his hand, and Forester's bowstring tightened slightly.
But Aemond raised his right palm and spread his fingers.
Everyone stops shooting.
Almost at the same time, the sound of cracking wind came from the sky.
It was not the sound of bird wings, but the roar of something larger and heavier tearing through the air.
A huge black shadow passed over the treetops.
Lothron is here.
Black Dragon swooped down from a high altitude, and its eight-meter-long body turned into black lightning as it plummeted.
The wings folded in at the last moment, and the whole body hit the ground.
The hind paws are open.
The spy who fled to the right heard the sound of the wind and raised his head in fear, only to see a pair of dark dragon claws rapidly enlarging in his eyes.
impact.
It's not tearing or grabbing, but pure and violent crushing.
Lothron swooped down and slapped it down with both claws.
Under the weight of a thousand pounds, this man burst like a ripe fruit.
Blood mist - a real scarlet and fine blood mist, blooming in the moonlight, mixed with minced meat and bone residue, and spreading all over the surrounding tree trunks and the ground.
There was no scream. Death came too quickly, faster than the sound.
All that was left was a puddle of unidentifiable flesh and two feet that were still running.
Lothron succeeded in one blow without stopping.
It spread its wings and turned sideways, quickly swept to the left, and pounced on the last person.
The spy had already rushed to the edge of the steep slope. When he heard the tragic death of his companion, he did not dare to look back and was about to jump.
The air flow from the dragon's wings knocked him to the ground.
He rolled twice and struggled to get up, only to see that Lothron had settled on the slope in front.
Black Dragon did not attack immediately, but folded his wings and stared at him with interest with a pair of blood-red vertical pupils.
The spy collapsed to the ground, screaming and pulling out his dagger.
Black Dragon There is fire in the throat, then Dragonflame will spit out.
"No... no!" The spy threw away the dagger and protected his head with both hands.
"Hey." A voice came, making Lothron put away the idea of breathing flames.
Aemond walked towards the dead leaves and stopped in front of the spies.
Lothron roared, and the warm dragon's breath sprayed on the opponent's face, with a bloody aura.
"Tonight," Aemond said, "Isn't it really wonderful?"
The spy's lips trembled, and his right hand suddenly grabbed the dagger next to him!
Aemond has already stepped down with his left foot, accurately stepping on the opponent's wrist with a little force.
There was a crisp "click" sound and the wrist bone was broken.
Just as he was about to scream, Aemond grabbed his other arm, twisting it and breaking it, and there was a muffled sound of the entire joint being dislocated.
The miserable howl was choked in the throat, leaving only the suffocating groan of severe pain.
Carter led people with torches to surround him, and the light shone through the forest clearing, reflecting blood stains, minced meat and the surviving spy.
Aemond leaned over, grabbed the spy's hair, and forced him to look up.
The face was twisted in severe pain, and was a mess of tears and mud.
"Who sent you here?" Aemond asked softly, staring at him with purple eyes.
The spy's teeth were chattering, but his eyes showed desperate determination. He couldn't say it, because if he said it, his family would die.
Aemond looked at him for a few seconds and nodded.
"Want to be a tough guy?" He let go of his hand, stood up, and unsheathed his swords.
The two sword lights flowed under the moonlight.
There was no hesitation, no unnecessary action, not even a chance to finally speak.
The two fronts crossed each other.
The third head fell to the ground.
Lothron let out a low growl of pleasure and couldn't wait to move forward to eat the corpse.
The sound of dragon teeth tearing flesh and bones and crushing bones was particularly clear in the silent forest.
Carter and Forester looked on expressionlessly.
They have long been accustomed to the fact that dragons need to eat, and the corpses of their enemies are better than consuming livestock with limited territory.
Aemond returned the sword to its sheath and looked at Carter: "Clean it up."
"The perimeter security will be doubled again. Those who approach without permission will be shot without mercy."
"Yes." Carter nodded, then hesitated, "Your Highness, this is the third time this year. The people behind it will not give up."
"I know." Aemond looked in the direction of the North and King's Landing, "They want to know how many chips I have in my hand."
He kicked the head next to his feet. The face was ordinary and featureless, and the clothes were ordinary clothes.
"They are all dead soldiers." Aemond said.
Carter squatted down to check the remains of the corpse, but Lothron, who was eating, suddenly turned his head, his sharp teeth were only three feet away from him, the smell of blood hit his face, and the blood-red eyes were filled with rage.
"Hey, Master Long..." Carter raised his hands and backed away.
Aemond glanced at it.
Lothron met the owner's gaze, roared, turned around and continued to eat.
Carter searched carefully, stood up and shook his head. "Your Highness, they are very clean."
"It's normal." Aemond said calmly.
"Now increase the iron ore output by another 30%."
"I need more iron, more armor, more weapons, and more men to arm."
"But..." Carter said cautiously.
"Start adding meat to these miners tomorrow," Aemond interrupted.
"The harvest amount is set, rewards will be given if the harvest is completed, and severe punishment will be given if the harvest is not completed."
Carter nodded. He is the general manager of the mine. If he cannot meet the standards, he has his own methods.
As for what Prince said, you will be free after the harvest period is over, but it just makes people work harder.
"Go ahead and do it." Aemond waved his hand. Everyone followed the order and retreated.
At this time, Lothron had devoured the corpse and licked the blood on its claws with satisfaction.
Black Dragon walked to his owner's side, lowered his head and gently touched Aemond's arm with his forehead. This was his way of showing his affection.
The smell of blood stained his sleeves, but Aemond didn't care, stroking the warm scales of the dragon's neck.
This little guy is his support.
Every night, Long Night patrols, all relying on his strength.
This is the dragon that is connected to his life. They have a tacit understanding and are connected with each other. If they look into each other's eyes, they will know what they are thinking.
As for the relationship with Laolong Vhagar... it's more of a cooperative relationship.