The gold-topped tower's shadow and the lights of Mole's Town

The morning light in the New Gift carried a biting chill, turning the snow on the Black Cloak Inn a pale gold.

As Daemon pushed open the wooden door of the inn, a gust of north wind blew in his face, and the Glutton growled outside. A thin layer of frost covered the Black Dragon's scales, yet it still resembled a block of Ice soaked in ink, exuding a powerful aura.

Rodrik Stark and the Night's Watch had packed their belongings; five packhorses carried oats and cured meat, and his black cloak fluttered in the wind.

Seeing Daemon emerge, he stepped forward and handed him a gleaming dagger. "This is a hunting knife commonly used by the Night's Watch's Watch, inlaid with black iron. It's effective against the bone spears in the hands of Wildlings." He paused, his blue-grey eyes sweeping across the distant snowline. "Don't linger at the Golden Tower in Queenscrown. Recently, rangers have reported seeing Wildlings scouts loitering nearby. After you've finished your visit, head towards Mole's Town. We'll go there after we've gathered our supplies, and then we'll meet up and head to Castle Black together."

Daemon took the dagger; its hilt was wrapped in non-slip deerskin, and the black iron blade gleamed a pale purple in the morning light. "Ser Rodrik." He glanced at the Night's Watch's Watch, "The winds at the the Wall are stronger than I expected."

"You'll know what 'fierce' means when you get to Castle Black," Rodrik chuckled, patting Brandon on the shoulder. "Your Highness, please keep an eye on my nephew and make sure he doesn't cause any trouble." Brandon immediately retorted, "What trouble have I caused? Last time in Barrowton, I was the one who helped William chase away the poachers!"

As the Night's Watch's Watch set off, the sound of horses' hooves clattering through the snow faded into the distance. Daemon watched their figures disappear behind the snowline before turning to the others and saying, "Let's go. To Queenscrown."

The group headed north along Kingsroad. The snow on the road was blown loose and soft by the wind. Glutton and Dreamfyre flew low, their dragon shadows landing on the snow like two moving shadows. Occasionally, they startled the snow rabbits hidden under the snow, causing Mysaria to let out a soft cry.

Beren rode his pony, holding "A Study of the North's Geography" in his arms, occasionally glancing up to take notes—he wanted to write down the Golden Tower of Queenscrown in his notes, saying he wanted the maesters of the Citadel to see what the place where Queen Alysanne had lived looked like.

After walking for about an hour, a patch of gold finally appeared in the snow ahead.

Queenscrown is located in Yidaoshan Junli. Dozens of wooden houses surround a tall tower, the top of which is painted bright gold. Under the sunlight, it looks like a piece of molten gold, which is particularly eye-catching.

The lake below the tower was covered with a thin layer of ice, and the shadow of a stone causeway could be vaguely seen at the bottom of the lake. According to Brandon, it was built when Queen Alysanne visited, to facilitate the passage of carriages, and now it has become a place for children to skate.

"That's the Golden Tower!" Brandon rode ahead, pointing to the tower. "Queen Alysanne rode her Silverwing here and spent the night on top of the tower. The villagers later painted the top gold, saying it was 'blessed by the dragon's light.' Inside the tower, the queen's wooden bed, lined with a leather rug, is still there, perfectly preserved."

Beside the old locust tree at the village entrance, several women in coarse cloth skirts were weaving wool blankets. When they saw Daemon and his group, especially the three giant dragons, they stopped what they were doing and gathered around to look at them curiously.

An elderly man with white hair approached, leaning on a cane, holding a worn silver badge engraved with the image of the Silverwing. "You must be His Highness of the Targaryen? This badge was left by the Queen years ago; we've passed it down for forty years, and everyone says it brings good fortune."

Daemon took the badge. Although the Silverwing pattern was blurred, the exquisite craftsmanship was still evident. "Did Grandmother run a 'Women's Court' in Mole's Town?" he asked casually, recalling the history of Mole's Town.

The old man's eyes lit up. "Yes! The Queen even chatted with the people from that place, saying that the girls no longer needed to fear the lord's right of first night. Later, the King really did issue an order abolishing that rule, and the girls of our Queenscrown no longer have to hide on their wedding night."

The group followed the old man into the Golden Tower. Inside, stone steps spiraled upwards, and faded tapestries embroidered with scenes of Silverwing flying over a lake hung on the walls.

The room on the top floor was small. A wooden bed was placed by the window, covered with a thick wolf skin. On the wooden table next to the bed was a ceramic pot, which was said to have been used by Queen Alysanne.

Gael walked to the window, pushed it open, and the cold wind swirled in snowflakes, but she could see the snow line and the lake in the distance. "Standing here, you can see most of Queenscrown. My mother used to live here, and she must have liked this view too."

Mysaria gently touched the leather rug, the soft fur still warm from the sun. "So warm, even softer than the bed in Winterfell."

Alys Rivers stood in the corner, her green eyes scanning the room's depths. There, hidden in a secret compartment, according to the old man, was where the Queen kept her letters. Several yellowed parchment sheets remained, containing letters to King Jaehaerys, saying, "The snow in Queenscrown is very clean, and the villagers are very kind."

After visiting the Golden Tower, Brandon suggested going to the lakeside to see the stone causeway, Beren immediately followed suit, wanting to draw the causeway in her notebook.

Daemon stayed at the village entrance, chatting with the woman by the old locust tree. He asked about recent sightings of the Wildlings. The woman said that a few days ago, a man wearing animal skins was wandering around the lake. He had a fierce look in his eyes and was chased away by the Night's Watch. Now, no one dares to let the children go out at night.

"We need to leave as soon as possible," Daemon said to Gael. "Rodrik is right, the Wildlings scouts are indeed nearby."

As the group left Queenscrown, the shadow of the Golden Tower gradually shrank.

Mysaria glanced back, holding the small wooden carving the old man had given her—a miniature golden-domed tower, exquisitely carved, which he said she wanted to keep as a souvenir.

Beren wrote in her notebook, "The Golden Tower of Queenscrown, the residence of Queen Alysanne, its top still gilded. There is a stone causeway over the lake, said to have been built during the queen's time."

After walking north for another half an hour, scattered wooden houses appeared in the snow. We had arrived at the Mole's Town.

At the entrance of the village, there was only a simple wooden house with a red lantern hanging under the eaves. The red cloth swayed in the wind like a beating heart.

Next to the wooden house stood a wooden sign with the three characters "Mole's Town" written on it in charcoal. The characters were crooked and messy, but they exuded a sense of everyday life.

Brandon reined in his horse and pointed to the wooden house. "Don't let its simple appearance fool you, it's huge underneath. Three-quarters of the house is underground, with tunnels leading to the end of the village. It's warm in winter and can even hide from Wildlings."

Pushing open the door of the wooden cabin, a warm aroma mixed with the scent of beer and charcoal fire wafted out.

There was a dark hole in the earthen wall of the house, with a wooden ladder leading to it. A woman in a brown skirt was coming up from the hole, carrying an earthenware bowl. When she saw Daemon and his party, she smiled and said, "You've come to meet us, haven't you? The Lord of the Night's Watch said that His Highness the Dragon would be coming. Please come in; it's warm down here."

The group followed the woman down the wooden stairs. The passageway was wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Oil lamps hung on the walls, their dim light reflecting off the damp earth. Occasionally, they could hear voices coming from next door.

After walking about ten steps, the space suddenly opened up before us—there was a huge cellar underground, with a dozen or so wooden houses built along the walls. Some had looms hanging at their doors, while others had the Smith's forges. At the door of the innermost wooden house, a red lantern hung, and the sound of a woman's laughter could be faintly heard.

"That's—" Gael frowned, about to ask, when Brandon quickly explained, "It's a place for the Night's Watch to rest. Queen Alysanne once held a 'Court of Women' here and chatted with the girls there. Later, the King abolished the right of the first night."

The woman brought over some hot ale and sat by the fire, recounting stories from years past. "My grandmother said that the queen, dressed in a silver skirt, was completely unpretentious. She sat on the ground chatting with the girls, listening to their tales of being taken for their virginity by the lord. The queen wept and said she would make the king change the rules. And they really did. The girls of our Mole's Town no longer have to be afraid."

She pointed to a painting on the wall, depicting a woman in a silver dress surrounded by several girls. "This was painted based on our grandmother's description, to remember the Queen's kindness."

As Daemon looked at the painting, he suddenly remembered what the Leaf on the Isle of Faces had said, "The White Walkers are waiting for the dragons to die out." Queen Alysanne abolished the right of the first night to protect her people; and he came to the the Wall to stop the White Walkers.

Some things may seem unrelated, but they are all connected to the very foundation of the Targaryen rule over Westeros: the Iron Throne is secure as long as the subjects are present; and the White Walkers will not threaten the entire Westeros in the future.

Jarman Waters leaned against the entrance of the tunnel, his one eye scanning the people coming and going, his bow and arrow never leaving his hand.

Larys Strong sat by the fire, his body wrapped in a black robe, his fingers tapping unconsciously on his knees—he was observing the underground tunnels, wondering if this place could serve as a refuge in case the Wildlings attacked, or if he could hide something here.

Beren, clutching her notebook, inquired about the details of the "Court of Women" from the woman, saying she wanted to record this history so that the people of the Citadel would know how the Queen spoke up for the people.

Mysaria played snowballs with some of the village children, her platinum curls covered in snowflakes, and she laughed heartily.

As evening fell, the sound of horses' hooves echoed outside. Rodrik Stark returned with the Night's Watch, their packhorses laden with more sacks of salt and hides. "The underground of Mole's Town is certainly warm," he muttered, rubbing his hands together as he entered the cellar. "We'll set off for Castle Black early tomorrow morning; a fast horse will get us there in half a day."

The Mole's Town was quiet at night, with only the crackling of the fire pit in the cellar and the occasional howl of wolves in the distance.

Daemon stood at the entrance of the tunnel, looking out at the snowy night. Glutton and Dreamfyre huddled in the open space outside the village, and dragon breath condensed into white vapor in the cold sky, like two warm clouds.

He touched the brand on his right shoulder, which was slightly warm in the cold night—the closer he got to the the Wall, the more he could feel the threat hidden beneath the ice and snow; the shadow of the White Walkers seemed to be in the Lands of Always Winter behind the snow line, waiting for some opportunity to cross the the Wall.

Alys Rivers leaned closer, offering a cup of her freshly brewed hot tea. "What is our Black Dragon Prince thinking about now?"

"I wonder what the Night's Watch on the the Wall is doing, year after year, keeping watch. What is it all for?" Daemon took a sip of his hot food, the warmth flowing down his throat. "They have no land, no wives or children, only black cloaks and oaths."

"To keep anything from the outside in," Alys Rivers gazed at the distant dragon's silhouette, "Just like your grandmother, Queen Alysanne, who petitioned the king to prevent the girls from suffering. Some things just have to be done, don't they? My prince, you are sometimes as sentimental as a teenager, more so than the rebellious Black Dragon."

Daemon nodded. He thought of the golden tower of Queenscrown, the red lanterns of Mole's Town, and every story left behind by Queen Alysanne —these were not useless histories, but the roots of Westeros.

He wanted to protect the dragon, protect these roots, and protect those who, like the Night's Watch and the villagers of Mole's Town, were striving to live.

The snow was still falling, and in the cellars of the Mole's Town, the firelight illuminated everyone's faces. Beren was still writing in his notes, Gael was dozing off next to Mysaria, Larys was studying the tunnel plans, Jarman was polishing his bow and arrows, Rodrik was discussing the defenses of the the Wall with his Night's Watch brothers.

Tomorrow, they'll be going to Castle Black, to that ice wall that spans the continent. Daemon knows the real challenge is just beginning.

But as long as those around him are still there, as long as the dragons are still there, he is not afraid—just as the Night's Watch's Watch oath says, "I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, this night and all the nights to come," and he pledges his Dragonfire and sword to this land, this night and all the nights to come.