The "Ironrod" of Rain House
The blue and white sails of the Redwyne fleet once again unfurled in the morning light of the Dornish Sea, the long sails bearing the emblem of the Arbor grapes still fluttering in the sea breeze.
After leaving Stonehelm, the fleet returned to its established route. The salty wind carried away the hustle and bustle of Stonehelm, giving way to the unique chill of Stormlands Shipbreaker Bay.
Daemon stood at the bow of the "Arbor," his long silver-gold hair billowing in the wind, but his gaze fell on Johanna on the other side of the deck. She was squatting beside the canvas with Gael and Mysaria, selecting fabrics that had just been delivered from the Redwyne fleet's goods. A dried blue flower, which Mysaria had pinned to her black hair yesterday, was pinned on her hair and was now swaying gently with her laughter.
Johanna's face had lost the timidity she had shown at first sight. She would occasionally argue with Gael about which piece of fabric was more suitable for making a cloak, and the light in her eyes had brightened considerably. However, when Stonehelm was mentioned, the corners of her mouth would still tighten slightly.
Daemon gazed at her retreating figure, the three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder still slightly burning. The image of Johanna crying and throwing herself into his arms that day was still vivid in his mind, as was the false enthusiasm of Lord Swann.
He suddenly remembered the records in the history books of his previous life: Byron Swann, the second grandson of the House Swann, would ignorantly attempt to slay a dragon using the ancient method of "Mirror Shield" Serwyn, offending the true dragon's majesty, and would eventually be burned to ashes by the Dragonfire of Syrax.
But that's in the distant future. The House Swann, though cold-hearted, is a hero of Stormlands ' defense against Dorne, guarding Cape Wrath for generations, and never wavering even during the "cruel" Maegor era.
Daemon gripped the hilt of the Blackfyre, the veins of the Valyrian steel gleaming coldly in the sunlight. His sword had slain slave traders and cleaved through rebels, but he would never unleash Dragonfire upon the innocent Swann people of this moment for the sake of future threats.
Johanna's justice should not be bought with indiscriminate killing, especially since Byron Swann, who was not yet born, was just a phantom at this moment.
"What are you thinking about?" Gael's voice came from behind her, holding a piece of light blue fabric in her hand—the very same piece Johanna had just picked out. "Johanna said this fabric would look good as a cape. What do you think?"
Daemon snapped out of his reverie, took the fabric, and ran his fingertips along the soft fibers. "It's beautiful, it matches the color of Dreamfyre perfectly." He glanced at Johanna behind Gael, the girl laughing as Mysaria amused her; her platinum curls and long black hair intertwined like two gentle clouds. "She's been much more cheerful lately."
"Of course," Gael nodded with a smile. "With us here, no one will dare to bully her anymore." Mysaria also came over, holding a wooden box of fresh berries. "Daemon Highness Damon, Johanna also said she wants to learn swordsmanship from you. She said she wants to protect herself and us in the future."
Daemon paused for a moment, then smiled, "Alright, I'll teach her when we get to King's Landing."
Just then, Alyn Redwyne, atop the Watchtower, shouted, "Your Highness! Rain House is ahead! The House Wylde is waiting at the docks!"
Everyone looked in the direction he pointed – in the bay on the north shore of Cape Wrath, a gray stone castle stood on the shore. The castle's roof was covered with dark brown tiles, and on the flag fluttering atop the castle, the large blue-green swirling coat of arms on a gold background was particularly eye-catching in the wind; it was the coat of arms of the House Wylde.
Rain House was built by the sea, with its dock extending into Shipbreaker Bay. Several small boats were moored on the shore, and knights in silver armor lined up to wait. The young man at the head of the group stood out. He was tall and straight, his armor engraved with the family's swirling pattern, a bronze-hilted longsword at his waist, and his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's. He was Jasper Will, the heir to the Earl Rain House.
As the fleet slowly approached the shore, Jasper quickly stepped forward to greet them. He bowed respectfully to Daemon, his movements precise and courteous, yet his voice carried the sharp edge characteristic of youth. "Your Highness Daemon, Princess Gael, I am Jasper Will, sent by my father to welcome you. Rain House has prepared fresh water, fresh meat, and freshly baked bread. Your fleet may replenish its supplies and rest here for half a day."
Daemon dismounted and his gaze fell on Jasper's armor. Although the armor was not particularly ornate, it was extremely well-maintained, with not a trace of rust in the seams, which was probably due to his regular martial arts training.
He recalled the records of Jasper from his previous life: this future "Ironrod" Master of Laws was known for his strict legal approach, stood firmly on Aegon II's side during the Dance of the Dragons, and insisted on male-first succession even when he was finally executed by Rhaenyra.
At this moment, Jasper was still a young man with a youthful air about him, his eyes filled with awe for the dragon, and he had not yet shown the ruthlessness that would follow.
"Thank you, Sir Will." Daemon nodded. "We only need to replenish our water and food supplies; there's no need to cause us any further trouble."
Jasper quickly waved his hand, "Your Highness is too kind. It is our honor that the dragon has graced Rain House. My father specially ordered the kitchen to prepare a specialty of Shipbreaker Bay —grilled tuna and honey-preserved sea berries. You must try them." He led the group into the city. The streets of Rain House were paved with smooth flagstones, and fishing nets and dried seaweed hung from the wooden houses on both sides. The air was filled with the aroma of sea salt and wheat cakes. "Our Will family has been loyal to Storm's End since Aegon's conquest for nearly a century. Last year, when the Three Whores ' pirates attacked, it was Duke Baratheon who sent troops to help us repel them."
As Daemon walked, he listened to Jasper recount the history of Rain House, but his gaze unconsciously lingered on the young man—he spoke clearly and logically, knew the relationship between his family and Stormlands like the back of his hand, and his eyes would light up when he occasionally mentioned the law, clearly showing his interest in it, gradually merging with the image of the future "Ironrod".
But thinking of his future assertiveness at the Small Council, and his eventual beheading, Daemon couldn't help but ponder: if the Dance of the Dragons were to truly erupt in the future, would this young man take a different path?
"Little Daemon?" Gael's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir Jasper asked if you wanted to go to the castle's Watchtower; you can see the whole Shipbreaker Bay from there."
Daemon snapped out of his reverie and smiled at Jasper, "No, we'll have to trouble you, Sir, to arrange for supplies to be replenished as soon as possible. We need to continue our voyage this evening."
Although Jasper was somewhat disappointed, he still nodded in agreement. "I'll arrange it right away and make sure the supply is completed within half an hour."
During a break from replenishing supplies, Johanna took Mysaria to the dock to look at the fish, while Gael went with Jasper's sister to the fabric shop in town. Daemon stood alone on the ship's railing, gazing at the outline of Rain House.
Jasper happened to be passing by and saw him gazing thoughtfully at the castle. He couldn't help but ask, "Is Your Highness pondering the route to Shipbreaker Bay? If you're worried about pirates, I can send a few small boats to escort you to Tarth."
"No need." Daemon shook his head, his gaze falling on the Glutton circling in the sky. The Black Dragon's shadow was cast on the sea like a moving inkstone. "With them around, the pirates won't dare approach."
Jasper looked up at the Glutton, his eyes filled with longing. "The might of a true dragon is indeed more effective than a fleet. Your Highness, at such a young age, is able to control such a powerful dragon; I truly admire you." He paused, then added, "I couldn't attend the tournament in King's Landing last year, but I heard that Your Highness felled Lucas Tyrell with a single spear thrust and led the Vale coalition to repel the Mountain Clans. Truly valiant."
Daemon smiled and said nothing more. The sun gradually set, the resupply was complete, and Gael, Mysaria, Johanna returned to the ship.
Jasper led the House Wylde to see them off at the dock. He gazed at Daemon's figure—silver hair, purple eyes, a tall and straight posture, the Blackfyre at his waist gleaming coldly, with Glutton and Dreamfyre hovering above like two guardian clouds. Suddenly, he felt that the prince before him had a bit of the shadow of Aegon the Conqueror, that innate majesty that inspired awe.
"Let's set sail," Daemon ordered Alyn Redwyne, and the fleet's blue and white sails rose once more, the grape emblem gleaming golden-red in the setting sun.
The outline of Rain House gradually receded, the House Wylde's vortex flag fluttered at the dock, and Jasper's figure grew smaller and smaller until he became a black dot.
Johanna leaned against the ship's railing, gazing at the distant horizon, and murmured, "The people of Rain House are so kind, much friendlier than those of Stonehelm."
"You'll meet many more good people in the future." Gael patted her shoulder, her pale purple eyes reflecting the sunset. "We're almost at Tarth. My mother says the beaches there are all white sand, and they have delicious fruit wine."
Daemon stood at the bow, gazing at the sea ahead—the direction of Tarth was shrouded in twilight, like a jewel hidden in the sea mist.
The Glutton and Dreamfyre flew side by side in the sky, while the dragon's shadow fell on the sea, intertwining with the sails of the fleet.
He knew that new scenery and stories awaited him on the next stop, Tarth, and that his encounter in Rain House, Jasper Will's youthful appearance, and his considerations for Johanna and the House Swann had all become unforgettable marks on this voyage.
As the sun sank completely below the horizon and night gradually enveloped the sea, the lights of Redwyne's fleet lit up, like stars scattered across the ocean.
The roars of the Glutton and the Dreamfyre echoed in the night sky, carrying with them anticipation for Tarth and unwavering resolve for the future. Daemon gripped the Blackfyre tightly, his purple eyes reflecting the lamplight and the dragon's shadow. He knew that no matter how many unknowns lay ahead, as long as those around him remained and the Dragonfire continued, he would not back down.