Early the next morning, watching the dark silhouettes of the two giant dragons fly away, Count Royce finally let out a sigh of relief. His second son, Desmond Caron, and his niece, Tia Caron, stood beside him.
"Tia, didn't I tell you to—" Watching the dragons vanish beyond the horizon, Ser Desmond snarled at Tia in frustration. "How could you—"
"I'm sorry, cousin." Tia lowered her head. "But I really couldn't help it. When I woke up, I was already in my own bed."
"Enough." Royce cut off his son before he could continue. "What a foolish thing to do. Do not try to anger the Dragonlord. It brings no benefit to our family."
He patted Tia's head. "Well done, good girl. Don't worry, I will make it up to you." The count shot Desmond a glare, then led Tia back into the castle without another look.
Desmond stood there blankly for a moment. Wasn't this your idea? How did I end up taking the blame?
The second son knight spat angrily onto the ground before turning and heading for the castle gates.
The wind of the Red Mountains swept past the tower, and sure enough, it made a strange sound.
Perhaps it came from cracks left by some siege decades or even centuries ago. In any case, it was nowhere near as pleasant as the legends claimed.
Of course, Lonzell and Jacaerys could not hear it.
Horn Hill.
It was a fortress standing amid wooded hills. A pool of emerald-green water reflected the castle's shadow—dangerous, yet beautiful. Dense forests surrounded this stronghold of the western Reach. Every year, Count Tarly organized several great hunts, both to train troops and to supplement the meat supply of the common folk in his lands.
Everyone knew that the Tarly family's subjects were