76-80

Chapter 76: The Shadow That Cannot Be Killed

Rhaegar's youthful voice carried an air of absolute authority—no one dared to ignore it.

Some of the braver wildlings slowly got up from the ground, trembling as they fixed their eyes on the massive dragon in the sky.

Hunched over, they cautiously began collecting the charred remains of the bodies that hadn’t been completely incinerated.

Rhaegar, in a good mood at the moment, wasn’t idle either.

He pointed at a few other wildling leaders and said lazily, “Introduce yourselves. Why have you all gathered here?”

He didn’t care about their names, but he was deeply interested in the curse they spoke of.

The Peregrine Tribe had already lost many people to a shadowy creature. Rhaegar had seen their bodies.

These wildling tribes had likely faced attacks from the same kind of monster, forcing them to band together for survival.

He wanted to learn the truth about this so-called curse.

“Oh great divine one, your loyal servant is named Gron, Senzan, and Trangle…”

The wildling leaders Rhaegar had singled out trembled all over, confessing like lambs to slaughter.

Five wildling tribes had gathered in this valley.

Of them, the leader of the White Pine Tribe had perished in dragonfire, as had one other wildling leader who had been swatted away like a fly. The remaining three were still alive and present.

Rhaegar gestured for the Glutton to descend. The enormous dragon's landing stirred up a cloud of dust and debris, forcing the wildlings to shield their eyes.

Rhaegar summoned one of the wildling leaders for questioning, demanding to know more about the so-called curse.

The wildling with a thick beard, named Trangle, trembled with fear and spoke carefully:

“The curse comes from the shadow. It silently takes the lives of free folk. You cannot kill it or catch it. The only way to deal with it is by offering living sacrifices.”

So, it really is a shadowy creature, Rhaegar thought, nodding to himself. He asked, “How many of these curses are there? Do they attack every tribe?”

“There’s only one curse,” Trangle answered. “It roams the swamps and pine forests at night, searching for suitable prey.”

“Have you ever witnessed this shadow killing someone?” Rhaegar frowned.

“Yes, many people have seen it emerge from the shadows and take lives.”

“It seems like this is indeed some kind of sinister monster,” Rhaegar murmured, contemplating the gravity of the situation.

A creature capable of killing while moving through shadows would be a terrifying existence no matter where it appeared.

For now, it seemed confined to the Crabclaw Peninsula.

But who could guarantee it wouldn’t spread to the mainland?

Rhaegar, with a dragon by his side, couldn’t ignore such a threat.

After a while, Fuski returned with the captives from the Peregrine Tribe.

Wildlings from the White Pine Tribe were also pulled from the crowd and made to kneel separately.

Rhaegar pondered for a moment before speaking coldly, “Bring those traitors forward. Let’s use them to lure out the shadow creature.”

He needed to assess the creature's strength—and whether or not it feared dragonfire.

The wildlings, savage and devoid of compassion, immediately obeyed the order. They dragged the traitors forward, including the beheaded Sand.

Rhaegar remained seated on the dragon's back, watching from above.

Below, the wildlings tied the traitors to a tree, extinguished the nearby campfires, and left only a patch of shadowy darkness.

All that remained was to wait.

According to the wildling leaders, the shadow creature visited almost every night, claiming lives within the tribe.

This had driven the wildlings into a state of panic and unrest, eventually forcing them to unite.

The five small tribes had formed a single larger tribe.

They had begun raiding nearby settlements, stealing supplies, and capturing people.

Though they didn’t openly admit it, Rhaegar knew they were using their captives as sacrifices to the shadow creature to protect their own people.

Time passed, minute by minute…

By around 2 a.m., the mass of wildlings kneeling on the ground hung their heads low, consumed by fear and anxiety.

Rhaegar, lying on the Glutton’s back, had relaxed his tense nerves and was starting to feel drowsy.

“Ah! The curse is here!”

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, drawing everyone’s attention.

Rhaegar snapped his head up, looking in the direction of the sound.

It wasn’t coming from the area where the captives were tied beneath the trees.

Instead, it came from the midst of the White Pine Tribe’s wildlings.

A female wildling shrieked in terror as the crowd immediately scattered, revealing the scene at the center.

Rhaegar stood up and leaned forward to get a better look.

A male wildling was sprawled on the ground, black, writhing tentacles emerging from the shadow beneath him and coiling tightly around his body.

Nearby lay a corpse, blood streaming from its seven orifices.

“Everyone, stand back!”

Rhaegar ordered the wildlings to clear the area. He urged the Glutton forward, commanding, “Dragonfire!”

The Glutton stared at the shadow with visible disdain, hesitating to approach.

But at Rhaegar’s command, the dragon reluctantly shook its massive body and unleashed a jet of dragonfire at the shadow from a distance.

Boom—

The dragonfire descended, its ghostly green flames blazing fiercely, dispelling vast swathes of shadow.

When the dragonfire subsided, all that remained was scorched earth, a deep crater burned into the ground.

The shadowy monster had vanished.

“Not dead?” Rhaegar looked around in confusion.

“Ahh…”

Another scream rang out, this time from the direction of the wildlings of the Peregrine Tribe.

Rhaegar turned his head.

Tentacles extended from the shadows, rising from the ground to ensnare several wildling women and their children.

Before Rhaegar could command the dragonfire again, the tentacles burrowed into their victims’ ears, noses, and mouths, draining their lives.

Rhaegar stared at the shadowy creature in shock.

To his astonishment, with every life the monster claimed, the shadows on the ground grew denser, and the tentacles thicker and longer.

“Dragonfire!”

With no time to dwell further, Rhaegar urgently commanded the Devourer to unleash its flames.

This time, the shadowy monster couldn’t kill its captives in time.

As it retreated into the shadows, it was struck by the dragonfire.

The large expanse of shadow on the ground seemed to recoil in agony, writhing and trembling violently.

It tried to approach Rhaegar but was scattered by the relentless dragonfire from the Devourer.

Finally, with a sharp, ear-piercing screech, it disappeared into the nearby shadows.

“What is that thing?”

It had withstood the dragonfire. Rhaegar’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The Devourer’s dragonfire was no ordinary flame—its power exceeded that of most adult dragons, capable of melting stone.

Yet this monster had survived a direct blast of dragonfire and retreated into the shadows to escape.

It was far too bizarre.

Rhaegar was shocked by the shadow monster’s peculiar nature.

It was the strangest and most otherworldly creature he had ever encountered.

But while the dragonfire had merely driven the shadow monster back, the wildlings were awestruck.

The ignorant wildlings fell to their knees, shouting praises to a divine savior.

Annoyed by the noise, Rhaegar gestured for the Devourer to silence them with a roar. He then shouted sharply, “I’m not a god! I am a Targaryen! Now, shut your mouths!”

In the crowd, Sapphire clutched Tormund’s arm tightly, her eyes shining as she gazed at Rhaegar.

Her eyes were filled with admiration and awe.

Hearing him deny being a god, she quickly chimed in, “You can command a dragon—you’re the Dragon King!”

Her cry sparked a wave of agreement, and the wildlings began chanting, “Dragon King! Dragon King!”

Rhaegar cast a glance at Sapphire, who had been the first to shout. He raised an eyebrow.

He was a descendant of the Dragon King, not the Dragon King himself.

But being called the Dragon King was better than being called a god.

Rhaegar looked down at the group of wildlings, who now cowered before him in fear and submission. A flicker of thought passed through his eyes.

He had promised to avenge the Peregrine Tribe.

A single wildling chief clearly wouldn’t suffice.

Earlier, he had considered burning them all to ash in one fell swoop.

Now, he had a new idea.

The shadow monster was an anomaly.

It had just attempted to attack Rhaegar, which likely meant it had its sights set on him.

Rhaegar couldn’t allow such a threat to exist.

Nor could he leave a creature that grew stronger by consuming life unchecked.

Killing the shadow monster would require the wildlings to risk their lives.

After a brief moment of thought, Rhaegar spoke in a commanding voice:

“The curse has taken root on the Claw Isle, stealing your lives and forcing you into endless migration, unable to live in peace.”

“I am the king’s eldest son, a Targaryen prince. I command the fiercest wild dragon in the world, whose flames can burn anything to ash.”

“Swear allegiance to me, and I will protect you from the curse.”

“Serve me, and I will wield my dragon to drive out the curse and eradicate the terror at its source!”

---

Chapter 77: Conquering the Peninsula

Rhaegar’s voice was still youthful, his slight frame devoid of any intimidation.

Yet, beneath him stood a massive dragon, as towering as a mountain.

All the wildlings could only look up in awe.

Upon hearing his voice, the wildlings had no choice but to submit, bowing down before the imposing figure of the Glutton.

With the situation firmly in his favor, Rhaegar continued, “Since you now bow to me, you must strictly follow my commands. Disobedience will not spare you from dragonfire.”

“Please, give your orders…”

The leading wildling chieftains wore expressions of fervent loyalty, showing no trace of defiance or hatred for being conquered.

Wildlings, after all, are still human.

And humans know how to choose between benefit and harm.

Curses could kill them, but dragonfire could preserve their lives.

Faced with the terrifying dragon, the wildlings—disorganized and undisciplined—competed to pledge their allegiance to a stronger leader.

Receiving the adoration of the wildlings, Rhaegar raised his eyebrows slightly, a peculiar feeling rising in his chest.

After a moment’s thought, he issued his first command.

“The shadow creatures will attack every wildling tribe. Before they grow stronger, you will unite all the wildling tribes under my command and conquer the peninsula!”

This was a plan he had come up with on the spot.

By gathering all the wildlings together, any shadow creature attacking them would inevitably be exposed to Rhaegar’s view.

And sooner or later, it would fall to dragonfire.

“Ohohoho!”

The moment they heard about conquering the peninsula and defeating all the wildling tribes, the group of wildlings went wild with excitement.

They cheered incessantly, eager to set off immediately.

For these wildlings, who had fought amongst themselves for years, nothing was more thrilling than war and pleasure.

---

The next day.

Rhaegar gathered the wildling chieftains and instructed them to manage their respective tribes.

The Whitespruce Tribe, which had lost its leader, elected a new one.

Collectively, they were now called the Crabclaws, symbolizing their status as Rhaegar’s claws and fangs, each ruling over their own people.

The valley served as an excellent base.

Rhaegar ordered the women and children to stay in the valley, leaving a hundred wildling warriors to guard it.

The five wildling tribes had over 3,000 people, including the elderly, women, and children.

Removing those who couldn’t fight left just over 1,000 who could bear arms.

For Rhaegar, that was more than enough.

This force of 1,000 was sent out across the swamps and pine forests to locate the peninsula’s wildling tribes.

Whenever they found a tribe, Rhaegar would ride the Glutton and circle above their heads a couple of times.

No further words were necessary; the wildlings would kneel and submit on their own.

In just five days, Rhaegar had flown over the eastern part of the Crabclaw Peninsula, subjugating more than a dozen small tribes and bringing over 10,000 wildlings under his rule.

---

At the edge of a foul-smelling swamp, Rhaegar sat inside a temporary hide tent made of animal skins.

“How many people did we consolidate today?” he asked.

“Your Highness, over 2,000 in total, with only 800 capable of fighting,” Baolan reported, standing before him in rough linen clothing.

It had to be said: the strategy for uniting the peninsula’s wildlings was almost laughably simple.

Rhaegar barely had to put in any effort.

Occasionally, he would ride his dragon to intimidate unruly wildling tribes, but most of the time, he simply let the Crabclaws handle things.

Baolan continued his report, “Your Highness, we’ve covered all the wildling tribes in the eastern peninsula with your dragon. There’s a noble castle in the west, but we didn’t dare act without your command.”

“No matter, the peninsula’s nobles must also pledge allegiance to the Iron Throne,” Rhaegar replied, his tone indifferent.

Conquering the peninsula had turned out to be far less thrilling than he had imagined.

To him, it felt more like playing a child’s game.

A group of ignorant wildlings, so terrified of the Glutton that it didn’t even need to breathe fire to make them surrender.

Just then, the tent flap was pulled aside, and a tall figure entered.

“Your Highness, the chieftain of the Whitecrow Tribe refused to submit. I have taken his head as an offering to you.”

One of the first Crabclaws to submit, Trangrel, knelt before him, holding a bloodied head in both hands with reverence.

They often interacted with Rhaegar.

Rhaegar forbade them from calling him Dragon King, insisting on being addressed as Prince instead.

The Crabclaws took pride in this, believing it signified a closer relationship with Rhaegar than ordinary wildlings.

Rhaegar frowned, displeased. “Take it away and burn it. Don’t bring such bloody things before me.”

Were it not for the need to eliminate the shadow creatures, he wouldn’t have spent a moment longer with this bunch of fools.

Each one of them was as dim-witted as could be.

He was still so young, and they were already showing him these gruesome things.

Scratching his head awkwardly, Trangrel muttered, “Your Highness, the Whitecrow Tribe has been fully integrated. The eastern peninsula has no other tribes left.”

“Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we march west,” Rhaegar declared, already having planned their route.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Trangor pounded his chest heavily and got up to leave.

With a hesitant expression, Baolan reminded him, "We don't have much food left. The prey isn’t enough to go around. There are too many burdens in the valley. If this keeps up, we’ll all go hungry."

"How much longer can we hold out?" Rhaegar sat up straight.

"Three days at most," Baolan answered decisively.

"Sigh, tens of thousands of mouths to feed every day. How did you all survive before?" Rhaegar sighed deeply.

"I only handle conquest. I’ve never learned logistics."

Baolan replied helplessly, "Tormund and I were taken in by Uncle Falcon six months ago. Most of that time, we didn’t have enough to eat."

"Start migrating west to the peninsula as soon as possible. We need to resolve the shadow creature issue quickly."

With a troubled look, Rhaegar asked, "Has the shadow creature shown up yet?"

"No, it seems to know we're looking for it, so it's hiding," Baolan said earnestly.

---

*Two days later.*

On a desolate mountain path, a long procession of wildlings marched westward.

A massive black dragon soared high in the sky, its broad wings casting a shadow over vast stretches of land.

After unifying the eastern peninsula, Rhaegar led the wildling clans in a great migration.

He wasn’t foolish enough to bring everyone along.

All the elderly, women, children, and half the wildling warriors were left behind in the eastern peninsula to fend for themselves by hunting.

The remaining half of the warriors, carrying enough food for three days, followed Rhaegar to the west.

Among them were over twenty Crabclaw commanders, leading a total of more than 2,300 people.

It was far from enough for a war that would become famous across the continent.

But on this barren peninsula, it was already an extraordinary armed force.

Along the way, they encountered several small noble factions.

These nobles had lived in the same valleys for generations, holding onto their titles but living in poverty all the same.

When the wings of the Devourer passed over their strongholds, these minor nobles hurried out of their homes to pledge their loyalty to the prince.

Unfortunately, loyalty was worthless.

Rhaegar requested to borrow food.

But when they heard it was for the wildlings, their attitudes flipped faster than turning a page.

Even when Rhaegar promised to repay them double, they were still stingy.

In the end, it was only thanks to the Devourer’s show of force that they managed to borrow a meager amount of food.

---

"Kill them!"

"Cut down those Bren Family dogs..."

"That bastard Kleber—kill them all!"

Soaring in the sky, Rhaegar flew over a clearing and heard the chaotic sounds of battle.

"Devourer, let’s go down and take a look."

Rhaegar patted the Devourer’s back, and the man and dragon descended.

Below, a large group of "soldiers" armed with iron weapons were locked in fierce combat.

These soldiers wore no proper armor; most were dressed in coarse cloth or sackcloth.

Their weapons were old and worn, far from the standard of a professional army.

Rhaegar overlooked the chaotic melee.

Both sides were fighting with ferocious determination, charging recklessly at one another.

Some of the soldiers, dressed as farmers and armed with only hoes and hammers, still managed to crush their enemies’ skulls.

Rhaegar surveyed the area and noticed two flags standing on opposite sides of the clearing.

One bore the symbol of a swamp marigold, while the other displayed a withered tree adorned with a hanging skull.

(End of chapter)  

*Chapter 78: The Klebb Family's Allegiance*

The two sides were fiercely engaged in battle, reaching a fever pitch.

Under their respective banners, knights commanded the combat.

Seeing the two flags, Rhaegar immediately thought of the two largest noble families on the peninsula: the Brunn family of Dreadhole Keep and the Klebb family of Whisperhold.

These two families were the only noble houses on the peninsula to have built castles.

Even though they were often labeled as "semi-savages," at least they maintained some dignity as noble families.

Especially the Klebb family.

Their lineage had produced Kingsguard knights and even a Hand of the King, enjoying a period of great prominence.

"Why are these two families fighting each other?" Rhaegar wondered, a bit perplexed.

They were already so impoverished.

Instead of focusing on building wealth, they were wasting their efforts in this chaotic conflict.

After a moment's thought, Rhaegar decided not to act rashly. Seated atop his dragon, he continued to observe.

Once war breaks out, hatred spreads uncontrollably—it cannot be resolved with a few words.

He planned to intervene once the battle had worn both sides down, making it easier to persuade the two weakened semi-savage families.

The melee raged on.

Both sides fought fiercely, their shouts and screams echoing across the battlefield.

The clash continued for half an hour.

Finally, exhaustion set in, and the chaos below began to wane.

Rhaegar's wildling army, led by the Crabclaw clans, arrived from the rear, surrounding the battlefield on all sides.

The order to encircle the battlefield had come from Rhaegar himself.

He was testing his skills in commanding and organizing warfare.

Although young, he knew that gaining experience in such matters would be valuable.

Seeing the faltering battlefield below, Rhaegar knew it was time to make his move.

He patted the back of Gluttonous, signaling the dragon to descend from the clouds.

“SSS-KAAAAH...”

With a piercing roar, Gluttonous’s massive form broke through the cloud cover, looming over the battlefield like a dark storm cloud.

Instantly, a fierce gust of wind swept through, toppling soldiers left and right and throwing the scene into disarray.

Before the commanders on either side could issue orders, Gluttonous circled overhead, unleashing a menacing spray of ghostly green dragonfire.

“A dragon! How can there be a dragon on the peninsula?!”

“Run! What kind of monster is this?!”

The moment the dragon appeared, the battlefield descended into complete chaos.

Terrified soldiers stared at Gluttonous in horror, throwing down their weapons as they fled in panic.

But the escapees didn’t get far—they were quickly driven back by the wildlings surrounding the battlefield.

The wildling army, led by Crabclaw warriors, closed in the encirclement, jeering and taunting the terrified soldiers.

The time had come.

Rhaegar guided Gluttonous to land in an open clearing, his figure now visible to both sides.

Both commanders immediately noticed the rider atop the dragon—a figure with striking silver-gold hair. Their pounding hearts began to settle.

A dragon with a rider was far less terrifying.

An untamed dragon, left to its own devices, was a beast that could annihilate humans at will, driven solely by its whims.

Sitting on Gluttonous’s back, Rhaegar surveyed the battlefield below and called out in a loud voice:

“I am Rhaegar Targaryen, firstborn son of King Viserys I. Where are the knights loyal to the Iron Throne?!”

As his words echoed across the battlefield, the commanders of both sides hurried forward, kneeling on one knee and bowing their heads as they declared:

“Your Highness, we pay our sincerest respects. The Brunn family and the Klebb family offer their allegiance.”

Rhaegar looked down at the two commanders and their deputies, all clad in iron armor and knightly robes, and asked sternly:

“The noble families of the peninsula have always kept to themselves. Why have you started a war on your own accord?”

“Your Highness, it’s the Brunn family—they’ve gone too far! They’ve forcibly seized our farmlands!”

The knight-commander of the Klebb family responded indignantly.

“Nonsense! It’s your Klebb family that stole our merchant ship returning from overseas and then refused to admit it!”

The Brunn family’s commander, visibly aggrieved, glared fiercely at his counterpart.

Rhaegar listened as the two commanders blamed each other, frowning deeply.

It was clear that the two families had long-standing grudges.

After a moment of contemplation, Rhaegar asked, “Who started the conflict?”

“It was the Klebb family! They stole our ship!”

“The ship was empty! And three of our warriors died mysteriously. Clearly, it was your Brunn family trying to frame us!”

The moment Rhaegar posed the question, the two sides erupted into a heated argument.

Before long, they drew their swords, advancing toward each other with hostile intent.

Rhaegar’s head throbbed as he watched, exasperated.

These semi-savage noble families of the peninsula truly lived up to their reputation—hot-headed and quick to resort to violence.

He didn’t have time to sort through their tangled grievances.

Rhaegar commanded Gluttonous to roar, instantly silencing the quarrel.

With a cold expression, Rhaegar said sternly:

“Summon your lords to meet with the King’s firstborn son!”

Dealing directly with the decision-makers would save time.

“Yes, Your Highness...”

Neither side dared to delay, though they still cast furious glares at one another. They instructed their deputies to notify their lords to come forward.

Meanwhile, the commanders began regrouping their forces and tending to the bodies of their fallen soldiers.

---

Rhaegar ordered the wildling army to pull back the encirclement and regroup at a single encampment. Scouts were dispatched to search for wildling tribes in the eastern part of the peninsula.

---

Near noon.

A few fast horses carried the lords of two castles to the battlefield, where the scent of blood still lingered in the air.

At first glance, they spotted the gluttonous creature lying on the ground—a beast as massive as a small hill.

“By the Seven! A Targaryen prince has descended upon the Crab Claw Peninsula.”

The lord of the Crabbe family, a tall and portly elder with graying hair and beard, couldn’t help but exclaim as he gazed at the jet-black dragon.

The peninsula was too barren and rarely saw outsiders.

A royal family member riding a dragon was an even rarer sight, perhaps once in a lifetime.

He dismounted quickly, ignoring his guards’ protests, and strode toward the dragon.

When he saw Rhaegar, drowsy atop the dragon’s back, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Such a young age, and yet he has tamed such a colossal dragon!”

Dropping to one knee, he raised the longsword at his waist to his chest and proclaimed loudly, “Lord Samwell Crabbe of Whispering Hill greets the prince!”

Rhaegar, drawn by his voice, lowered his gaze to the elder kneeling on the ground and said with confusion, “Lord Samwell, presenting your sword is not the proper etiquette for greeting a prince.”

“I know.”

Samwell, his breath labored, looked up at the young prince shining in the sunlight and said respectfully:

“You possess the noble blood of true dragons and have arrived riding a mighty dragon. On behalf of House Crabbe, I humbly beg you to accept our allegiance and allow us to become your vassals.”

“I am but a prince, not the heir to the Iron Throne,” Rhaegar replied, even more puzzled.

Samwell smiled. “My ancestor, Clarence Crabbe, was a legendary hero of the Crab Claw Peninsula. My great-uncle, Clement Crabbe, served as a Kingsguard for your great-grandfather, the Old King.”

“Today, House Crabbe has been estranged from House Targaryen for far too long. I care not whether you ascend the Iron Throne.

“All I ask is that the noble prince accept our loyalty and let the banner of the golden marsh marigold once again bask in royal glory.”

Rhaegar: …

He silently studied the passionate Samwell Crabbe, his brows furrowed, unsure how to respond.

To be honest, he thought little of the semi-wild noble houses of the Crab Claw Peninsula.

Poor, uncivilized, remote…

These were their true labels.

Accepting Samwell’s oath would bring him no tangible benefits and might even invite unwanted attention from others.

After carefully choosing his words, Rhaegar politely declined:

“Lord Samwell, I deeply admire your loyalty to the royal family, but I am not the heir to the Iron Throne and have no right to accept the fealty of a lord.”

---

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 79: The Land of Shadows*

"Your Highness..."

Sam, after being refused, still wanted to say something, but the young man beside him interrupted.

"Old Sam, the prince has no interest in your aging bones. Don’t trouble a young prince."

The man, clad in black, was the lord of Fear Hole Castle.

He knelt on one knee as well, speaking loudly: "Wells Brynn greets the prince and extends my most sincere blessings."

Sam’s face darkened with anger. He snorted coldly and turned his head away disdainfully.

"Stand up, both of you,"

Rhaegar glanced at the proud Wells and raised his hand, motioning for them to rise.

With the key figures present, there was no time for pleasantries. Rhaegar immediately asked, "I don’t want to get involved in the conflicts of the peninsula’s nobles. I’ve come here for one thing only."

"Have you ever heard of or encountered an unnatural shadow creature?"

"Never, Your Highness!" Wells responded bluntly.

Sam, however, appeared hesitant. His expression changed slightly as he said, "Your Highness, I have heard of such a creature."

"Oh? Let’s hear it,"

Rhaegar perked up, not expecting that a casual question would yield results.

Sam glanced at Wells from the corner of his eye, then spoke in a heavy tone: "Half a month ago, a cargo ship encountered a storm in the Narrow Sea and ran aground on a beach on the peninsula."

"The patrol soldiers from Whisper Castle discovered the ship along the coast and sent people to investigate."

"The ship was completely empty—no stranded sailors, no cargo."

"When the soldiers were about to disembark in disappointment, a creature lurking in the shadows attacked them, killing three."

Wells interrupted again: "That’s nonsense. That cargo ship was trading with Fear Hole Castle. It was shipwrecked on the other side of the Narrow Sea and was looted by you. In your story, it conveniently became an empty ship with no survivors or goods!"

"Shut your mouth!"

Rhaegar rebuked Wells sternly, warning him: "Lord Wells, I wasn’t asking you. Stay quiet."

Wells was taken aback, not expecting a childlike prince to have such a commanding presence.

Opening his mouth to retort, he hesitated and lowered his head.

Rhaegar snorted in displeasure and turned to Sam, saying, "Continue."

Sam shook his head. "That’s all I know. Afterward, the Brynn family accused us of looting the cargo ship and sent people to seize farmland within Whisper Castle’s territory."

Rhaegar rubbed his temples in frustration.

Unexpectedly, he had uncovered more about the origins of the two families’ feud than about the shadow creature.

"At least I’ve learned about the shadow creature’s existence," Rhaegar consoled himself.

Turning to the disgruntled Wells, he asked, "You mentioned the cargo ship was trading with Fear Hole Castle. Do you know where it came from and the route it took?"

Wells responded sullenly, "The ship set sail from Qarth, passing through Slaver’s Bay, the Stepstones, and the Free Cities. On rare occasions during its return journey, it would pass by Crab Bay and trade with Seagull Town and Fear Hole Castle."

"Qarth?"

Rhaegar recalled the world map he’d studied in the Red Keep. Qarth was located on the eastern continent, its port situated between the Summer Sea and the Jade Sea.

It bordered the Red Waste and lay close to the Shadow Lands.

"The Shadow Lands... shadow creatures..."

The connection between the two immediately sparked Rhaegar’s suspicion.

Sam offered a reminder: "Your Highness, the Shadow Lands are a mysterious region perpetually shrouded in darkness. They are home to Shadowbinders and Blood Sorcerers—a place filled with fear and chaos."

"Perhaps, but the Shadow Lands are too far from Westeros to pursue,"

Rhaegar mused. "Lord Sam, on the western peninsula, shadow creatures have been attacking and killing wildlings on a large scale, growing stronger by devouring life. I came here on dragonback to eliminate it."

"The Crabbe family will follow your orders, Your Highness. If you need us, we will serve without hesitation,"

Sam placed a hand over his chest with a solemn expression.

He had not yet given up on his desire to follow Rhaegar.

Rhaegar nodded and turned to Wells.

Wells glanced at Sam and the wildlings camped nearby. A hint of disdain flashed in his eyes as he turned away and said, "Your Highness, you shouldn’t listen to Old Sam’s one-sided story. He’s only trying to deny looting the cargo ship and deceive you."

"So, Lord Wells, are you suggesting the shadow creature I witnessed with my own eyes isn’t real?" Rhaegar narrowed his eyes.

"I wouldn’t dare. I’m merely suggesting that, given your young age, it’s better to stay away from wildlings. They’re nothing more than uncivilized beasts,"

Wells replied dismissively.

"That’s enough, Lord Wells,"

Rhaegar’s tone grew stern. "The shadow creature is real. It’s consuming life to strengthen itself. The residents of the peninsula must put aside their prejudices and work together to destroy it."

"With all due respect, I’ve never seen this so-called shadow creature, nor do I wish to work with wildlings or enemies,"

Wells retorted stubbornly, his youthful arrogance showing.

Rhaegar chuckled coldly and waved dismissively. "Then you may leave."

"Your Highness, allow me to offer one piece of advice. You shouldn’t—"

Wells tried to interject, but Rhaegar cut him off immediately.

"Go, Lord Wells. Return to your castle. Until the shadow creature is dealt with, do not provoke any conflicts,"

Rhaegar said impatiently.

Wells had underestimated him, disregarding him because of his youth.

---

Rhaegar couldn’t be bothered to feign civility with him any longer.

He simply decided to drive him away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Wells, looking indignant, raised his head and stared directly at Rhaegar, opening his mouth.

“Hiss... Gah...”

Sensing the rider’s irritation, the gluttonous beast let out a low growl. Its foul-smelling saliva splattered all over Wells, covering his face and body.

“Cough, cough, cough...”

Dragon spittle landed in his mouth, its searing heat and unbearable stench filled his throat. Clutching his neck in agony, Wells felt his head throb as the sensation rushed to his brain.

“Take him back.”

Rhaegar gestured to the commander from Terror Pit Keep.

“My apologies, my lord. The lord did not mean to offend...”

The commander quickly grabbed hold of Wells, retreating as he apologized profusely.

Gathering what remained of their troops, they swiftly fled the clearing.

Once the people of Terror Pit Keep had fully withdrawn,

Sam glanced at the sky and extended an invitation to Rhaegar: “Your Highness, may I ask if you’d honor Whispering Keep with your presence? The Crabbe family would be delighted to prepare a grand feast in your honor.”

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow.

The offer was music to his ears.

During the days he’d spent on the Claw Peninsula, he had been enduring rough, outdoor meals.

Were it not for the thrill of conquest and his relentless pursuit of shadow creatures, he would’ve long since ridden his dragon back to Dragonstone.

A smile spread across Rhaegar’s face. “I appreciate your generosity, Lord Sam.”

However, he hesitated before adding, “If Whispering Keep has surplus provisions, I would like them to be distributed to the Free Folk fighters. Upon my return to King’s Landing, I will repay you doubly.”

“This...”

Sam clasped his hands behind his back, kneading them as his eyes swept over the large gathering of Free Folk in the distance. Inwardly, he balked at the idea.

But!

The thought of earning the prince’s favor made him reconsider.

After some internal deliberation, Sam nodded and said, “Very well. Whispering Keep will provide three days’ worth of food for the Free Folk. Anything more would stretch our resources too thin.”

Rhaegar had brought over two thousand people with him, all of them able-bodied and with large appetites.

The daily consumption of food was no trivial amount.

For a family like the Crabbes, rooted in the modest Claw Peninsula, three days’ worth of provisions was already significant.

“That will be sufficient. Thank you again for your generosity, my lord.”

Having temporarily resolved the food supply issue, Rhaegar let out a sigh of relief.

His impression of Sam Crabbe greatly improved.

---

Chapter 80: The Dreadfort

The next day.

Rhaegar awoke in a soft goose-feather bed, frowning as he rubbed his eyes.

"Prince, Lord Sam is waiting for you in the guest hall for breakfast," came the crisp voice of a maid from outside the modestly luxurious stone-walled bedroom.

"I understand," Rhaegar replied, his voice slightly weary as he got out of bed.

Once again, he had dreamt the night before.

He dreamt of Rhaenyra crying incessantly, holding his hand, and expressing her worries about him.

He also dreamt of his father.

The king, who usually wore a sycophantic smile, had been consumed with rage for the first time.

He punished many people, chopping off their heads and placing them on pikes along the shores of Dragonstone as a warning to others.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon," Rhaegar murmured to himself. Resolving to deal with the shadow creature as quickly as possible, he planned to return to Dragonstone immediately afterward.

---

Rhaegar pushed open the door, where a teenage girl in a silk dress stood waiting.

"Miss Yara, you didn’t need to notify me personally," he said.

The girl, one of Sam’s many daughters, was too young for Rhaegar to comfortably accept such courtesies.

Yara smiled faintly. "It’s my father’s instructions. I hope you don’t mind."

"Of course not. You’re being too kind," Rhaegar replied with a smile.

Sam Cleb was indeed a man skilled in diplomacy.

The previous night, he had hosted a small, private family dinner for Rhaegar.

The meal was abundant and satisfying, free from the noise of guests.

Rhaegar had enjoyed both the food and the accommodations.

The two made their way down the staircase to the guest hall, where Sam was already seated at the dining table, waiting.

"Prince," Sam greeted with a smile as he stood.

Rhaegar returned the smile, gesturing for Sam to sit before taking his own seat.

As they ate the simple yet exquisite meal, Rhaegar asked, "Lord Sam, have you given any thought to my proposal from last night?"

Sam paused for a moment, then replied solemnly, "The shadow creature is a threat to the peninsula. The Cleb family is willing to stand by the prince in this battle."

Unlike the unruly wildlings of the peninsula’s western region, the eastern region was governed by the Bren and Cleb families, leaving little space for wildlings to roam.

To hunt down the shadow creature and rally the scattered wildlings, Rhaegar needed the cooperation of these two families.

Having read many historical accounts, Rhaegar understood the importance of forging alliances with local nobility.

The Bren family had been expelled and could be disregarded for now.

The Cleb family, however, was an excellent choice for collaboration.

Sam had no intention of refusing the prince’s request and readily agreed.

---

After breakfast, Rhaegar was still unsure how to lead an army to defeat the shadow creature.

Sam offered a suggestion: "The wrecked ship where the shadow creature first appeared is still stranded on the beach. Previously, no one dared to approach it. But now, with you riding the dragon, it might be worth investigating."

After a brief moment of thought, Rhaegar nodded. "Let’s go with your plan, Lord Sam."

The plan was set.

A hundred fully armed soldiers were assembled within Whisperfort, with Sam personally leading the expedition.

Rhaegar mounted his dragon, Glutton, soaring above the group as they marched.

The wildling army remained unused for now, stationed in the wilderness.

Whisperfort, built by the sea, was not far from the beach.

An hour later, they arrived at the shoreline, where the wrecked merchant ship could be seen in the distance.

"Glutton, descend," Rhaegar commanded upon spotting the ship.

The vessel, battered by storms and the elements, was a dilapidated ruin.

The bow was tilted upward, and the mast was broken in half.

Sam dispatched ten soldiers to search the ship, pairing them into groups of two and instructing them to call out if they encountered danger.

However, after a thorough sweep, the ten soldiers returned without incident.

"The ship is completely empty," the soldiers reported.

Rhaegar and Sam exchanged disappointed glances.

"Return to Whisperfort and wait for any news from the wildlings," Rhaegar ordered before taking to the skies on his dragon.

A simple search wouldn’t be enough to catch the shadow creature; they would need bait to lure it out.

---

*Whisper Castle.*

The Glutton soared down from the sky.

As soon as he landed, Rhaegar noticed a messenger on a white horse being stopped at the outer gate of the castle.

The messenger was arguing persistently.

The gate guards ignored him entirely, shoving and pushing him away.

"Wait, who are you, messenger?" Rhaegar asked curiously.

The messenger, seeing Rhaegar dismount from the dragon, broke free from the guards and hurriedly said, "Your Highness, I am a knight from Dread Hollow Keep. Please, you must read this letter."

"Dread Hollow Keep… the Bryne family?"

Rhaegar frowned and asked, "What does Wills want? I’ve already told him the peninsula is under a temporary truce."

"Lord Wills has passed away!"

The messenger’s face was filled with sorrow as he dropped to his knees.

"What?"

Rhaegar froze for a moment, thinking he had misheard.

The messenger said mournfully, "After parting ways with you yesterday, Lord Wills returned to the castle in a fit of rage. No one dared approach him."

"This morning, when the maid went to attend to him, she found him dead in his bed."

"How did he appear? Was it an assassination?" Rhaegar sensed danger.

"There were no external injuries on Lord Wills’ body. The maester examined him and concluded that a blunt object had pierced his nose, mouth, and ears, damaging his brain."

The messenger recounted every detail.

Upon hearing this, Rhaegar immediately realized that the shadow monster was responsible.

"It didn’t stay on the ghost ship but went after that fool Wills instead," Rhaegar murmured softly.

The shadow monster had previously only attacked wildling tribes.

But now that the tribes had united and fortified their defenses, it had targeted a noble lord.

This was a very dangerous sign.

It meant the creature's killings were unpredictable.

If the shadow monster had not gone after Wills last night and instead attacked Rhaegar resting in Whisper Castle…

Rhaegar felt a chill run down his spine, unwilling to think further.

"No, I must eat and sleep with the Glutton from now on."

Rhaegar reached out and stroked the Glutton's scales to calm himself.

Once he steadied his nerves, Rhaegar took the envelope from the messenger and carefully read the letter.

The contents described Wills’ death, a consent to the truce with Whisper Castle, and an invitation for Rhaegar to attend a feast at Dread Hollow Keep.

The letter was signed by Babette Bryne, Wills’ younger brother.

After reading the letter, Rhaegar exhaled and said, "I’ve read the letter. Wait here for Lord Sam. I’ll go on ahead."

Wills’ death weighed heavily on him.

He decided to visit Dread Hollow Keep to see if he could track down the shadow monster.

With that, Rhaegar mounted the Glutton and took off.

He flew directly toward Dread Hollow Keep, the seaside castle on the northern coast opposite Whisper Castle on the Crabclaw Peninsula.

The two castles were separated by vast wilderness.

Fortunately, the Glutton was incredibly fast, capable of making a round trip in just half an hour.

…

Soon, Rhaegar arrived at Dread Hollow Keep on dragonback.

The sinister castle was built against the mountains.

The Glutton circled the keep once before landing slowly.

"Hissss-raaah!"

The dragon roared and spewed a plume of green flame, announcing the arrival of a Targaryen prince.

The soldiers on the castle walls were so terrified they went weak in the knees, completely losing the will to resist.

Rhaegar looked down at the tightly closed gates of Dread Hollow Keep, waiting for its lord to emerge.

As expected, the massive wooden gates opened from within, and a group of elegantly dressed men and women emerged.

At the front stood a tall, slender, and handsome young man who bore a striking resemblance to Wills—about seventy percent similar.

Behind him was a slightly plump woman with red-rimmed eyes and a burly middle-aged man in armor with a rough face.

The Glutton landed in the open area before the castle.

As the group approached, they found themselves face to face with the towering dragon.

Startled by the dragon’s imposing height, they froze in fear.

Fortunately, they recognized Rhaegar seated on the dragon's back.

Realizing he was a prince of House Targaryen, to whom they were sworn bannermen, the handsome young man stepped forward, bowed, and greeted him, "Honored prince, Babette Bryne of House Bryne greets you."

Rhaegar looked at him with suspicion and asked, "Your brother has passed away?"

---