Aegon's gaze fell on the man standing at the head of the tent.
The man had graying hair and a burly build. Clad in Dornish armor, he was struggling to maintain a facade of composure.
"Are you the commander of this army?" Aegon asked. His voice was quiet, yet everyone in the tent heard him clearly. "Did Doran order you to attack the Stormlands, or did the Dornish nobles muster this army on their own?"
In the end, he still did not believe Doran would be so foolish.
Not because he believed Doran placed much value on family ties, but because no ruler would choose to oppose the victor when defeat was already certain, staking everything on the side doomed to lose.
Doran had ruled Dorne for so many years. He should not have made such a mistake.
Earl Uller stared at the silver-haired, violet-eyed young man before him.
After the initial shock, his thoughts, paralyzed by the sudden turn of events, finally began to stir again.
He looked at Aegon and slowly spoke. "You're... Aegon Targaryen...?"
His words sent another wave of shock through the tent.
Every gaze fixed on the silver-haired young man-Targaryen, the man who had descended from the sky on a dragon. It really was him.
Aegon ignored his words entirely and merely repeated, "Answer my question."
The indifference in his tone suggested that Earl Uller's question had not even deserved a response.
Earl Uller felt that undisguised contempt.
In all his years in a position of power, when had a young man ever treated him like this?
Anger rose within him, but he suppressed it and said, "Harmen Uller, Earl of Hellholt. Commander of this Dornish army."
Aegon nodded, as though he had finally confirmed some trivial detail.
He looked at Uller and said slowly,