Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
Jacaerys's dragon was still young. Like Lonzell, the brown-haired boy often made people overlook his age because of how mature he acted. In truth, Jacaerys was only nine years old by nominal age that year. Perhaps in accordance with the old Westerosi saying about children of questionable bloodlines, Little Jace and Little Luke both grew faster than children their age. Of course, not by that much, which was why Aslan Longdell had so readily acknowledged his courage and ability.
After all, lasting that long against a seventeen-year-old was enough to prove that Jacaerys had some real skill.
"Hiss—"
Vermax carefully crawled out of the Dragonpit. Before him, Vomysor, as magnificent as a mountain, narrowed his eyes slightly as though gathering his strength. Vermax cautiously glanced at the elder dragon, who was many, many times larger than himself. Only after seeing that Vomysor paid him no attention did he affectionately rub against Jacaerys, who had changed into riding clothes bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.
"Valar, I'm leaving the castle to you while I'm away." Wearing riding clothes embroidered with silver dragons and laurel leaves, Lonzell patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "If anything happens in Dorne, contact me immediately for major matters. Handle minor matters yourself. You don't need to worry about construction in the territory; professionals are handling that."
"I understand. Don't worry, Brother. I won't do anything I don't understand," Valar promised. Lonzell trusted his younger brother on that point. Though Valar was not particularly clever, he understood the simple principle of leaving things he did not understand to people who did.
Lonzell nodded and turned toward Vomysor.
The giant dragon slowly raised its head and gently bumped Lonzell in the chest. Lonzell casually wrapped his arms around the