Early the next morning, the guards discovered a corpse in the Kingswood.
After an examination, it was confirmed to be the young noble lord who had shouted “Long live Prince Aegon!” the previous day, the same lord who had been reprimanded by the king.
His death was horrifying.
All of the organs inside his abdomen had been removed, and his tongue had been maliciously cut from his mouth.
“Tell me, what happened here?!”
Viserys summoned the guards responsible for the area and demanded an answer in fury.
How could something as ominous as the gruesome death of a noble occur during the royal hunt that had been prepared specifically to celebrate his eldest son?
“Your Grace, we’ve inspected every entrance into the area that can be accessed, and there were no signs of anything unusual.”
“Could it have been a black bear from the forest?
Or perhaps someone who had a grudge against the deceased?”
The captain of the guards offered his theories.
Viserys took a deep breath.
He could not completely rule out either possibility, but there was only one thing that mattered right now.
They had to catch the killer.
“Otto, you will take full responsibility for this investigation.
The murderer must be found before the search of the Kingswood is concluded!”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Otto’s brows drew together noticeably.
A death like this was unprecedented, perhaps even across the entire continent of Westeros.
Worse still, this was the royal hunt, where nobles from every corner of Westeros had gathered together.
The slightest mistake could create unnecessary enemies and trouble for House Hightower.
Otto’s head was already throbbing at the thought of it, but the king’s command came first.
He had no choice but to carry it out.
After Otto departed, Viserys prepared to lead a group of guards and trackers into the Kingswood to capture the White Hart alive.
The maesters of the Citadel had told him that the White Hart was not only a royal symbol of the Kingswood, but that its blood was also believed to possess properties capable of nourishing the human body.
Viserys considered himself fortunate.
He thanked the Seven for blessing him with the return of his eldest son, and he hoped that this time the gods would once again grant his wish and allow him to capture the White Hart alive.
“Father, may I come with you to look for the White Hart?”
Baelon loved the scenery of the Kingswood.
He loved breathing its fresh, clean air.
He would much rather be here than trapped inside the encampment like a caged bird.
“My child, finding the White Hart may take a very long time.
Your body simply cannot endure it.
This time, you must forgive your father for being unable to grant your wish.”
Viserys placed both hands on Baelon’s shoulders and patiently explained.
“I’ll listen to you, Father.
But may I at least walk around the nearby forest?
Of course, I’ll have Ser Erryk accompany me.”
Baelon compromised.
“Your father agrees.
But you must promise me that you will never go anywhere dangerous.”
Viserys spoke seriously.
“I swear by the Seven that I will not go anywhere dangerous.”
Baelon answered in the same solemn tone.
Viserys kissed his son’s forehead before turning and mounting his horse.
He then looked toward Ser Erryk and gave him his instructions.
“Protect the prince at all costs.
If danger comes, even if it costs you your life.”
“Rest assured, Your Grace.
I swear upon the white cloak I wear that so long as I draw breath, no harm shall come to the prince.”
Erryk removed his helmet and gave the king his solemn assurance.
Baelon also mounted a horse, preparing to ride with Erryk toward the western forests.
They said that if one rode high enough into the Kingswood, the entire forest could be seen stretching out below.
“Ser, where is my sister?”
Baelon had intended to invite Rhaenyra to accompany them.
“Your Highness, Princess Rhaenyra went out with Ser Criston Cole.
I do not know where they have gone.”
Erryk answered honestly.
Baelon shook his head.
“A pity.
My sister doesn’t have the good fortune to witness this.”
“Ser, let’s go.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Erryk easily swung himself onto his horse.
He held the reins with one hand while keeping the other ready to protect the prince.
Together, they rode toward the western reaches of the Kingswood.
Time passed quickly, and before long, the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
Deep within the forest, Erryk led Baelon’s horse up to the summit of a hill.
The view was breathtaking.
From there, they could see the royal encampment below, while in the far distance, the towers of King’s Landing were faintly visible.
“Ser Erryk, help me down.”
Erryk nodded and lifted Baelon from the saddle.
“Thank you, Ser.”
After thanking him, Baelon slowly approached the edge of the hill.
He extended his right hand and gradually closed his fingers, as though gathering the tiny encampment below and distant King’s Landing into the palm of his hand.
“So this is what the books mean by something being within easy reach.”
Baelon always remembered Maester Orwyle’s teachings.
“Your Highness, the slope here is very steep.
Please be careful.”
Erryk remained close beside Baelon, terrified that the young prince might accidentally fall from the cliff.
If that happened, his own crime would be unforgivable.
“Don’t worry, Ser.
I won’t put myself in any—”
Baelon suddenly stopped.
On his left stood a magnificent white stag.
It was enormous, towering nearly five meters tall, its body powerful, majestic, and noble.
And it was watching him.
“The King of the Forest…”
“The White Hart!”
Baelon stared at it in disbelief.
He had read countless books during his years in Oldtown.
Of course he knew the history of Westeros.
Before House Targaryen united the Seven Kingdoms, this vast forest had belonged to a creature regarded as an auspicious king—the White Hart.
“Your Highness, that White Hart is powerful.
I can guarantee that, in a one-on-one fight, I can get you away from it safely.”
Erryk drew his sword, watching the creature warily.
The White Hart tilted its head slightly.
Its amber eyes stared past Erryk directly at Baelon.
“Ser Erryk, I’m certain it’s calling me over.
Stay here and wait.”
Baelon stepped beyond the protection of Erryk’s side and calmly walked toward the White Hart.
“Your Highness!”
Erryk could never possibly allow the prince to confront such an unknown and dangerous creature alone.
He had just begun moving forward when the normally gentle White Hart suddenly lowered its body and adopted an unmistakable attacking stance toward him.
“Ser Erryk, the White Hart has no hostility toward me.
I can feel it.
It’s here to help me.
Don’t do anything rash.”
“But—”
“This is an order.”
Baelon’s voice remained calm, but there was no room for argument.
Erryk had no choice but to sheath his sword and wait at a distance.
The White Hart immediately relaxed its defensive posture.
Lowering its head, it sniffed Baelon and took in his scent.
Baelon took the opportunity to gently stroke the legendary King of the Forest.
Its fur was snow-white and extraordinarily soft.
Touching it felt almost like running his hand across a magnificent jeweled cloak—splendid and luxurious, yet somehow incredibly light.
“May I ask why you came to find me?”
Baelon was genuinely curious.
He did not believe the White Hart’s appearance was a coincidence.
There was a very good chance that it was connected to the strange dreams he had been experiencing.
The instant the words left his mouth, something extraordinary happened.
A vast amount of blood suddenly began flowing across the White Hart’s snow-white fur.
It poured from beneath Baelon’s left and right hands, spreading across his arms and into every part of his body.
Then, as though returning to its original owner, the blood vanished directly beneath the surface of Baelon’s skin.
Baelon was startled and immediately pulled his hands away.
The moment he stepped backward, an extraordinarily dazzling white light flashed before his eyes.
When he opened them again, Baelon found himself sitting on his horse.
Ser Erryk stood in front of him, holding the reins.
“Your Highness, you’re awake.
We’ve already reached our destination.
Would you like to get down and look at the scenery?” Erryk asked respectfully.
“Oh.
All right.
Help me down so I can have a look.”
Baelon was still somewhat dazed.
He had no idea what had just happened.
Just as before, Ser Erryk lifted him down from the horse.
Baelon did not walk toward the cliff this time.
Instead, he instinctively turned his head to the left.
Sure enough, the King of the Forest was there.
The White Hart was staring directly at him.
But unlike before, its fur was no longer completely white.
Its entire left side was stained a deep crimson, and several drops of fresh blood could still be seen clinging to its fur.
Yet this time, the White Hart did not approach him.
The moment it realized Baelon was watching, it simply turned its head and disappeared from his sight.
And at that very moment, Baelon clearly felt something happening.
The palm of his hand was slowly beginning to grow warm.