The white-robed estate master provided Aegon with a guide, and under the man’s direction, Aegon’s army set out toward Ghoyan Drohe.
He also sent several mule carts loaded with more than half a month’s worth of provisions for the army, assuring them that additional supplies would be delivered later.
Along the way, Aegon and the others caught sight of the Toksor family’s castle.
It was an imposing structure, far larger than Aegon had expected.
According to Connington’s assessment, it was more than sufficient to support the dignity and status of a Westerosi count.
Stockpiling two thousand soldiers inside would not be a problem.
It was said that the Toksors had specifically invited craftsmen from Westeros who specialized in castle construction to build it.
The Toksors were not the only ones.
Several other families that controlled large amounts of land had also constructed castles and other quasi-military fortifications to secure their territories.
“Lord Connington, which is larger, Pentos or the Crownlands?” Young Griff asked curiously.
He had only recently begun studying geography.
“Pentos is slightly larger,” Connington replied.
In truth, when measured by the amount of land under its control and the size of its population, Pentos could be considered inferior to almost none of the Seven Kingdoms—with the Reach being the notable exception.
The Nine Free Cities did not merely control a single city.
Each of them also possessed vast stretches of surrounding territory.
After several more days of travel, they crossed the Little Rhoyne and entered the lands of Ghoyan Drohe.
Ghoyan Drohe was an excellent location.
The Little Rhoyne lay to the west, the Upper Rhoyne to the east, and mountains rose to the north.
Not only was the region naturally defensible, but its extensive waterways made it exceptionally suitable for agriculture.
Unfortunately, the Rhoynar had fallen into decline.
This fertile land had been ravaged almost in turn by the Dothraki and the Pentoshi.
Apart from the occasional thin column of smoke rising from some distant settlement, there was hardly anything to be seen.
Aegon understood perfectly well that the enemy possessed every geographical advantage here.
They knew these mountains and forests like the backs of their hands.
If he recklessly searched for them, he had no idea how much time he might waste.
Worse, he could easily venture too deep into enemy territory and fall straight into a trap.
Therefore, he deliberately slowed the army’s pace throughout the journey.
He intended to draw the snake out of its hole.
Aegon possessed the Fateful Eye ability, an early-warning trump card that allowed him to sense impending danger and prepare in advance.
But Connington knew nothing about it.
From his perspective, the army was advancing far too slowly, while Aegon himself looked almost completely relaxed, as though he were out sightseeing rather than conducting a military campaign.
Sooner or later, they were bound to be ambushed.
What concerned Connington even more was that he repeatedly spotted people watching them from the surrounding area.
After weighing the matter carefully, Connington finally steeled himself and approached Aegon once again.
Yet Aegon’s soldiers were fiercely loyal to their commander.
Unlike the previous commanders, who had only thought about how to squeeze every last coin from them, Aegon actually spent his own money on them.
He had helped them settle their debts.
He trained alongside them.
He suffered alongside them.
How could men like that not be willing to fight to the death for him?
The soldiers had also learned about the confrontation between Connington and Aegon.
So when Connington approached, several men immediately stepped forward, blocking him and keeping him at a distance from their commander.
“Let him through,” Aegon ordered.
The soldiers immediately moved aside.
“Silas, I believe we should increase our marching speed and search for Luchys and his men as quickly as possible.”
Faced with Connington’s urging, Aegon remained completely unmoved.
“There is no need for Lord Griffon to concern himself with this.
I have my own arrangements.”
Seeing that Aegon refused to budge, Connington became increasingly anxious.
He did not particularly care if this bandit-suppression campaign ended in defeat.
The only thing he feared was Young Griff being caught up in it and placed in mortal danger.
“Why don’t we send out more scouts to investigate the surrounding area? Get faster updates on g.com.
That would also reduce the risk of being caught by a surprise attack or an ambush.”
Aegon glanced at Belwas standing behind Connington before answering.
“An ambush?
What could a mere band of outlaws possibly do to ambush us?
In fact, I’d be more than happy if they came and attacked us themselves.
Enough.
You don’t need to worry about things here.
If you’re truly uneasy, you’re free to turn back early.”
Connington’s heart turned cold after hearing those words.
His greatest fear had finally come true.
For a fleeting moment, he felt as though he had returned to that terrible time when he had begged the Mad King, Aerys, to give him another chance to suppress the rebellion.
Aerys had refused to trust him again.
Connington had eventually departed Westeros in disgrace, only to receive the terrible news later.
Aegon watched Connington leave from the corner of his eye.
If you want someone to blame, blame Illyrio.
Illyrio was currently working closely with Varys.
In barely more than a decade, he had accumulated an enormous fortune and risen to become one of the men whom the Pentoshi magistrates—and even the Prince himself—were eager to court.
For now, Illyrio could still serve as a stepping stone toward greater power.
If Aegon wanted to use this campaign against the bandits to obtain greater rewards, he could not afford to grow too close to Connington and arouse Illyrio’s suspicions.
Aegon had become commander through Illyrio’s influence, and now he intended to use that same influence to climb even higher.
He had always acted arrogantly in front of Illyrio, but that behavior was based on the fact that the two of them were, at least officially, father and son.
The moment Illyrio sensed that Aegon might once again disrupt his plans, there was no telling what the old merchant might do.
Aegon needed to maintain a delicate balance.
Connington had no idea what Aegon was actually worried about.
With no other choice, he temporarily withdrew and arranged for the men Illyrio had sent with them to search the surrounding mountains and forests.
Before long, darkness began to descend.
Aegon’s force decided to make camp beside the river for the night.
Connington hurried over once again to object.
“Silas, camping beside a river is a major military taboo.
Only a large army with sufficient troops to defend the position should establish a camp along a river, and even then, a great number of scouts must be deployed to maintain vigilance.
We have barely more than three hundred men.
If we’re suddenly attacked, the entire force could collapse.
I suggest we move up into the mountains and establish camp there.”
“If they want to ambush us, let them come.
We have more men and better equipment.
I refuse to believe we’ll lose.”
Seeing that Aegon remained determined to do things his own way, Connington was completely at a loss.
At that moment, Belwas approached him and lowered his voice.
“Lord Griffon, Master Illyrio instructed us that, in an emergency, all of us are to follow your orders.”
“What exactly are you implying?”
Connington gave Belwas a strange look, studying him from head to toe.
“We can keep an eye on the Young Master while you take full command of the battle.”
“You mean taking Aegon’s command away from him?
He’s the officer officially appointed by Pentos!”
“Didn’t you see how loyal those soldiers are to him?
If we forcibly seize command, they’ll fight us.”
“Then send all our men out to patrol.”
After the others departed, Connington took the opportunity to continue teaching Young Griff.
“For cavalry, the best place to establish a camp is an elevated slope with a clear view of the surrounding terrain…”
…
Inside a humble hut, a young man with olive-colored skin and black hair sat reading a book.
A dim oil lamp burned beside him, casting a weak yellow glow across the room.
Beneath its light, the young man read with complete fascination.
His name was Luchys.
He was the very “bandit chief” Aegon had been sent to eliminate.
In his hands was a battered copy of Fire and Blood of the Freehold, its pages worn almost to pieces.
The book recorded the history of the Valyrians and had been stolen during one of his raids on a Pentoshi estate.
The civilization of the Rhoynar had long since vanished completely.
Luchys could only glimpse the glory of his ancestors through the histories left behind by the Valyrians.
The Valyrian Empire itself had already fallen, and even the surviving Targaryen dynasty had been overthrown.
Luchys no longer held any hatred toward the Valyrians.
By now, his only wish was to keep the remnants of his people alive in peace.
To the west were the Pentoshi, who treated people as though they were less than human.
To the east were the Dothraki, who regarded human lives as little more than blades of grass beneath their horses’ hooves.
The surviving Rhoynar lived under extraordinarily harsh conditions.
But Luchys knew that his own strength was far too limited.
There was only so much he could do.
Most of the time, all he could manage was raiding the estates of wealthy Pentoshi and “robbing the rich to help the poor.”
At that moment, a brown-haired subordinate hurried into the hut.
“My lord!
The Pentoshi army is here.”
This subordinate was one of the people Luchys had rescued from one of the horrifying Pentoshi estates.
His band included not only Rhoynar, but also countless unfortunate Pentoshi who had been driven into desperation.
“Where have they reached?”
“They’ve already arrived in the Little Rhoyne region.”
The subordinate hesitated before continuing.
“Their commander looks like an incompetent fool who knows nothing about warfare.
He’s actually established their camp right beside the river.”
“Oh?”
Luchys raised an eyebrow.
“Looks like he’s truly an amateur.
Don’t rush into a frontal attack.
Harass them continuously for ten days, half a month if necessary.
Don’t let them sleep peacefully.”
“Don’t worry!”
The subordinate answered excitedly.
They had relied on this strategy of exhausting their enemies time and time again, defeating several forces sent to suppress them.
He was convinced that this time would be no different.
“Don’t underestimate them.”
Luchys’ expression became serious.
“What if they’re doing it deliberately?”
“After our previous clashes, I estimate they’ve almost figured out where our mountain settlements are.
We need to drive them out before they find us.”
He paused.
“Otherwise, with so many of us here, none of us will survive.”
Hearing this, the excitement disappeared from the subordinate’s face.
His expression turned solemn.
Luchys closed the worn book in his hands.
The enemy had finally arrived.
And this time, they might not be as foolish as they appeared.