The Golden Company marched across the scorched earth for three days.
The army of over ten thousand followed a dried-up riverbed north, heading toward Myr.
Aegon, clad in a black robe atop a black horse, felt his silver hair flutter slightly in the wind.
His gaze swept across the barren hills on both sides, charred stumps, half-collapsed mud walls, and a few wisps of black smoke in the distance—uncertain if they were from cooking fires or embers.
Barren, cruel, and fought over until all value was lost.
"At this rate, we should see the walls of Myr by tomorrow evening," Jon Clinton said, riding alongside him with a worn map spread in his hands.
Aegon nodded slightly, his gaze falling on the further horizon.
"Your Highness," Jon lowered his voice, "Regarding the Magistrate of Myr, I suggest we first use the pretext of requesting passage and supplies..."
His words were interrupted by the sound of galloping hooves.
A squad of scouts emerged from behind the eastern hills, the leader urgently reporting to the approaching cavalry commander, Bennet.
"Your Highness," Bennet turned his horse, his face cold and hard. "The scouts found a small group being hunted five li to the southeast. There are about ten of them, dressed like lysene. The pursuers are Myrish light cavalry, about thirty."
lysene? In a place like this?
Jon frowned and looked at Aegon.
"Did they see who it was?" Aegon's voice was calm.
"The scouts report the leader is a woman with silver hair, accompanied by guards. But they were far, and details are unclear." Bennet paused. "The Myrish are biting hard at their heels."
A woman. Silver hair.
Something stirred deep within Aegon's violet eyes.
"Bennet."
"Present!"
"Take your men and handle it. Bring them back." Aegon paused. "Alive."
"Understood!"
Bennet struck his chest with his right fist, pulled the reins, and signaled two squads. About two hundred cavalry swept toward the southeast like a blade drawn from its sheath.
The main force formed a defensive formation on the spot.
The Soldiers gripped their weapons, their gazes vigilant.
Aegon did not dismount, sitting quietly in his saddle and looking toward where the cavalry had disappeared.
The sunlight was piercing; he raised a hand to shield his brow.
About a quarter of an hour later, the sound of hooves rose again.
The cavalry returned, surrounding five or six warhorses.
On the lead horse sat a slender figure, a woman with silver hair messy and stained with dust. Her deep purple traveling clothes were torn and soiled, her sleeves frayed, and her face bore abrasions—wretched, but not fatal.
Bennet rode forward: "Your Highness, the person has been rescued. She claims to be Sa Melis and says she is one of yours. The Myrish pursuers were routed by us; three were captured alive."
Sa Melis.
Aegon's gaze fell upon her, and the woman on the horse was looking at him too.
The moment their gazes met, Sa Melis's body gave an imperceptible tremor—not of fear, but of confirmation.
She froze for an instant, a light of near-ecstasy bursting in her eyes before being quickly suppressed, transforming into a frail mix of exhaustion, shock, and grievance.
She practically rolled off the horse, stumbling as she hit the ground. She waved off the assistance of others and walked toward Aegon step by step.
She stopped a few paces away and looked up.
The dust and minor abrasions could not hide her beauty. Her violet eyes welled with tears that hung there, refusing to fall.
"Your... Highness..." Her voice was weak as a thread, trembling just the right amount. "It... it really is you..."
She took a deep breath, her figure swaying. A nearby Soldier moved to support her, but she whispered, "I'm fine..."
Yet her gaze remained locked onto Aegon's face, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I thought... I would never see you again..."
Aegon looked at her, his violet eyes still as a deep pool. "Why are you here?"
Sa Melis bit her lip, appearing even more fragile.
She lowered her head, her voice trembling slightly. "I escaped from Myr... Your Highness, I have urgent matters to report, of the utmost importance..."
She looked up, her eyes brimming with moisture. "But I... I'm so scared. They chased me for three days, I didn't dare stop... now that I've seen you..."
As she spoke, she truly swayed, appearing as if she might faint at any moment.
Aegon silently watched her performance for two heartbeats.
Then, he spoke: "You did well. It was not easy to escape."
His voice was steady, even lacking much warmth, but the words themselves were an affirmation.
A light flashed in the depths of Sa Melis's eyes, hard to hide, before she lowered her lashes. "To serve Your Highness... it is only right..."
"Speak."
Aegon stopped watching her performance and turned his gaze to Bennet. "Take the prisoners down first."
"Lord Jon, interrogate them personally."
"Yes!"
"Sa Melis," Aegon looked back at her, "You come with me."
Inside the temporarily erected central command tent, Aegon sat alone.
Sa Melis stood before him, her fragile, shaken posture maintained perfectly.
"You may speak now."
She took a deep breath, the fragility on her face fading slightly, replaced by gravity and lingering fear. "Your Highness, Tyrosh and Myr... have allied."
Aegon's brow twitched imperceptibly.
"Tell me the details."
"I was in Myr testing the Magistrate's attitude. He wouldn't see me, only sending minor officials to brush me off."
"I felt something was wrong and bribed an official in the Governors Mansion," Sa Melis said, her pace quickening, a flash of lingering fear in her eyes.
"He told me that three days ago, a secret letter from the Archon of Tyrosh arrived. He has allied with the Magistrate of Myr, swearing an oath to jointly dispatch troops... to attack Lys."
"Military strength?" Aegon thought to himself that it was as expected—he shouldn't have held expectations for those vultures—then asked with a frown.
"The main force of the Tyroshi navy has been fully mobilized. There are at least sixty large galleys, and even more smaller vessels."
"Myr has not mobilized its army, but it will provide supplies and logistics, and has promised to hire mercenaries to fight in their stead." Her breathing was slightly hurried.
"The combined fleet will likely have no fewer than two hundred ships."
"Timing?" Aegon's brow was tightly furrowed.
"The Myrish logistics fleet is currently at the harbor for final assembly and resupply. They will depart in five days at most."
"Tyrosh... may have already set out."
Aegon was silent for a moment.
"What else?"
Sa Melis bit her lip; this time the fear was a bit more genuine. "Before I left the city, I snuck a look at the docks."
"On their largest warships... they've mounted things."
She looked up, her voice dropping even lower. "Giant Scorpion Crossbows. The arms of the bows are as tall as two men."
"The craftsmen said... the bolts are specially lengthened and the tips are poisoned... specifically to deal with large flying creatures."
The tent fell silent.
Aegon tapped a finger once on the armrest of his wooden chair.
"How did you escape?"
"That official sold me out right after taking the money. I sensed something was wrong and immediately took my guards out of the city. The Magistrate of Myr gave a death order..."
"To capture me at all costs. I was hunted the whole way, switching horses, abandoning luggage... until I met your scouts here." She paused, her gaze earnest.
"The cavalry leader said... they were Prince Aegon's men, so I was willing to come. I was afraid... it was a trap."
As she said this, she looked at Aegon with sincerity, her violet eyes welling with tears again, but this time, there seemed to be a few more parts of genuine relief.
Aegon looked at her for three heartbeats.
"The information is very useful. Go rest first; a healer will come to see to your injuries."
A flash of disappointment crossed Sa Melis's eyes—she hadn't received the further comfort she expected—but she immediately lowered her head and replied submissively, "Yes, Your Highness. As long as it is useful to you... that is enough."
She turned and walked toward the tent flap, her steps still somewhat "unsteady."
Before lifting the curtain, she glanced back at Aegon with undisguised admiration and dependence before quietly leaving.
The tent curtain fell.
Aegon sat alone in the tent, his gaze falling on empty space.
Sa Melis's words were a mix of truth and lies.
Her fragility was mostly an act, and her fear was deliberately exaggerated, but the intelligence she brought... was in all probability true.
An opportunist, upon discovering a chance to gain maximum benefit, would erupt with staggering initiative.
And she clearly believed this intelligence was worth the risk she took.
He stood up and walked to the simple wooden table in the tent, where a map was spread out.
His finger traced from their current position to Lys, to Myr, and to Tyrosh.
The tent curtain was lifted again, and Jon Clinton strode in, his face bearing the dust and solemnity of the march.
"Your Highness," he said straightforwardly.
"I've questioned them. Those three prisoners are just low-level cavalrymen carrying out orders and know little, but their stories are consistent. The Magistrate of Myr has indeed allied with Tyrosh, and the target is Lys."
"Sa Melis's intelligence... is essentially accurate."
Aegon's gaze rose from the map, showing no surprise.
Jon walked to the table, his finger pointing to the location of Myr. "When Sa Melis escaped, the Myrish logistics fleet had not yet set sail. This means the Tyroshi main fleet won't have departed too early either."
"If we immediately turn the army back at full speed, marching day and night, perhaps... we can still reach Lys to reinforce it before the city falls."
His tone shifted, his brow furrowed. "But since they've shown their hand, the plan to pass through Myr's harbor and rent ships is no longer possible."
"Without ships, how can an army of ten thousand cross the sea?" He shook his head.
"Your meaning?" Aegon looked at him.
Jon's finger fell heavily on the location of Myr's harbor, a Soldier's ruthlessness flashing in his eyes:
"The Magistrate of Myr should not yet know that the Golden Company has a new master, nor does he know that we are aware of his scheme. He likely thinks we are still stationed on the eastern front of the Disputed Lands."
He looked up, his eyes burning. "Why don't we turn their own game against them? Under the pretext that their supply fleet is assembling and harbor defenses might be relaxed, we can feign that we are still fulfilling the Golden Company's old contract, approach the harbor of Myr, and then..."
He made a sharp, decisive gesture. "Raid the harbor and seize every usable ship! Whether they are supply ships or warships, once we seize them, they are ours!"
"With ships, our army can immediately board and set sail straight for Lys, catching them completely off guard! Even if we cannot annihilate the enemy fleet, we can at least tear a hole through them, rush into the lysene bay, and strike from both inside and out with the defenders!"
The plan was bold and risky, but not without the possibility of success. The key lay in speed and surprise.
The tent fell quiet, save for the faint crackling of the burning torches.
Aegon remained silent, his gaze falling back onto the map.
His finger did not move toward Myr, nor toward Lys. Instead, it slowly moved to the right, crossing the blank space representing the ocean, and finally, tapped gently on... Tyrosh.
Jon followed his finger, startled at first, then his pupils constricted slightly.
Aegon's voice rang out in the silent tent, calm, yet carrying a resolve that cut through all hesitation:
"Go back to the rescue?"
"No, that's just putting out a fire."
His fingertip tapped on the location of Tyrosh.
"But if we directly dismantle the arsonist's nest..."
He looked up, and within his violet eyes, a cold flame seemed to burn silently.
"Their main force is pouncing on Lys. Warships, Soldiers, the Archon... at this moment, what is left inside the city of Tyrosh?"
"What I want is not to save Lys."
"I want to use a city-state to make them... withdraw their troops obediently."
"Or even... submit."
"I want to take... Tyrosh directly."
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