"Arthur, eat up, eat up. This is a true Dornish delicacy. You cannot visit Dorne without tasting it."
In the long hall of High Hermitage, Viscount Dimitri urged Arthur to try the dish a servant had placed before him.
Arthur looked at the roasted meat on the platter, sizzling with oil and coated in dragon pepper powder and mustard seeds. "Is it wise to eat roasted snake this early in the morning?"
"Ah, Arthur, you don't understand." Viscount Dimitri waved his hand dismissively.
"In Dorne, if you haven't eaten roasted snake, you haven't really been to Dorne. Considering it's your first time, I told the cook not to add the drop of venom on top."
"I tell you, the soul of roasted snake lies in that single drop of venom. The thrill it gives is more intoxicating than any food I've ever tasted."
Saying this, Viscount Dimitri speared a piece of snake meat, popped it into his mouth, and chewed with relish. He even closed his eyes and swayed his head, looking thoroughly enraptured.
Arthur looked around the table with a pained expression. He saw that both the old Master-at-Arms and Ser Williams were eating it as if it were perfectly normal.
Dubiously, Arthur put a piece of snake meat into his mouth. He chewed once and quickly swallowed.
How to describe it? It wasn't just spicy.
Arthur felt like he had swallowed a ball of fire. The flame burned from his mouth, down his throat, and settled in his stomach.
By the time Arthur finished the meat on his plate, he felt like his whole body was sweating. His tunic was damp, and his tongue and lips felt swollen.
"Hah... hah..."
Arthur kept wiping sweat from his forehead and tears from the corners of his eyes, panting heavily.
Viscount Dimitri urged the servant to pour him a cup of wine. "Quick, quick! Now is the time! A cup of Summerwine!"
Arthur grabbed the goblet and drained it in one gulp.
The rich, sweet taste of the Summerwine and its fruity aroma filled his mouth.
Alcohol + Dragon Pepper + Mustard.
You don't say... hey, you really don't say. This sensation is actually kind of thrilling.
Walking out of the long hall, Arthur had to admit that Viscount Dimitri knew a thing or two about enjoying life.
Standing on the covered bridge connecting the main keep to the Maester's Tower, they had a clear view of the levies training in the yard below.
Many knights were drilling the levies in the use of spears, formation marching, and positioning.
Ser Clegg and Ser Williams were down there too, occasionally shouting to point out mistakes made by levies under a particular knight's command.
Arthur had already told them everything about the connection between House Blackmont and the Vulture King.
Ser Clegg frowned. "If that is the case, we must be careful. Ideally, we should wait for an envoy from Prince Doran, but Sunspear is too far away."
Ser Williams: "I don't think we need to worry about them. If they dare openly help wildlings attack us, Prince Doran and even King Robert will punish them."
Arthur felt both points had merit, so he proposed a middle ground. "For safety's sake, let's wait for news from Lady Alerie. See what she says."
Both men nodded and returned their attention to drilling the levy formations.
Arthur had mastered personal combat skills like swordsmanship and horsemanship to perfection, but when it came to formation warfare...
His knowledge of command and training remained purely theoretical.
This was why Arthur chose to command the cavalry—fewer in number, highly trained, and possessing the highest combat literacy.
The thought of commanding over a thousand Dornish peasants—who might not know left from right, couldn't read a word, didn't understand orders, and had zero tactical discipline—made Arthur's head ache.
With a learner's mindset, Arthur spent the next period standing on the bridge, observing how Ser Clegg and Ser Williams trained the levies.
After watching for about half an hour, Arthur understood their training model. It was basically military drill: forward, backward, left, right, following commands in formation.
Raise spears, lower spears—the absolute basics.
Yet even with these basics, someone always messed up. And these levies had already been training for over ten days.
This led to a scene of "beautiful chaos": knights and guards assisting with training would start with soft voices and patient explanations, only to break down within half an hour into shouting curses, punches, and kicks at their stupid subordinates.
Watching this, Arthur felt like he was witnessing the "beauty" of a parent trying to help their child with homework and losing their mind.
"My Lord, what happened to your mouth?" While Arthur was observing intently, Wick came from the main keep. "Who hit you?"
Arthur glared at him and touched his still-swollen lips. "Speak your business."
Wick: "The Captain of the Guard says he received word of a wildling raid. He's gathering the cavalry at the stables now and sent me to tell you."
"My brother has already saddled Shadow and is waiting for you at the stables."
Arthur took a swig of [Wine] from his own skin and boasted:
"Tell Zach to bring the [Qilin Bow]. Tonight, we eat roasted vulture."
Ser Williams: "My Lord, be careful."
Ser Clegg: "I'll have Bard take some men and go with you."
"Understood." Arthur nodded. "Keep an eye on Vulture's Roost and any news from Blackmont. If I can shoot that vulture down, we won't be so passive."
---
When Arthur arrived at the stables, over thirty cavalrymen had gathered, including Ser Bard and the Captain of the Guard.
The Stable Master provided each rider with a fresh mount so they could ride one and lead one. As they prepared, the Captain explained the trajectory and location of this wildling raid.
Captain: "Usually, they cross after dark to raid and return by dawn. But this time is different. According to reports, not only did they not return, but they have remained on the east bank."
"Villages north of High Hermitage, as well as manors and inns along the road, have suffered significant losses."
"They might be testing our response." Arthur raised the Vulture King's threat level in his mind. At least the opponent wasn't a mindless brute.
He even knew to send men on a reconnaissance-in-force to probe them.
Thinking this, Arthur looked up at the sky. He saw many moving black dots. One of them was likely the vulture controlled by the Vulture King.
Helpless against the vulture high above, Arthur turned to instruct the men behind him.
"This time, we ride with two horses each, at full speed. If possible, capture a few wildlings for interrogation. See if we can get intelligence on the Vulture King."
Soon, led by the Captain, they began searching along the path of the raided villages.
During the search, Arthur deployed his forces. He divided the cavalry into three groups, ordering them to spread out in a fan shape to maximize their search area.
Arthur, the Captain, and Ser Bard each led a squad. Each commander carried a war horn, and every rider had a bone whistle.
Arthur established the signals: blowing a bone whistle meant wildlings were spotted or the vulture was attacking—a warning.
Blowing the war horn meant a crisis—a call for immediate support and assembly.