Listening to Queen Alysanne's lecture, Gaemon sat obediently, his face the very picture of a chastened child who had learned his lesson.
Satisfied with his seemingly compliant expression, the Queen finally dropped the subject and returned to her duties. Coordinating an excursion for dozens of rival noble houses inevitably caused friction, and it required her constant, diplomatic intervention. She was an incredibly busy woman.
Seeing his mother distracted, Gaemon quietly let out a breath. He had dodged a bullet.
Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped out of the royal pavilion.
As far as Gaemon was concerned, this grand hunting competition was little more than a background event—a convenient excuse for him to be out here.
The moment he stepped outside, Jon Connington, who had been waiting faithfully by the tent flaps, hurried over. "My Prince, everyone is ready. When do we depart?"
"Tomorrow," Gaemon replied without looking back. "It's getting late. If we ride out now, it will be pitch black before we reach the site."
Gaemon hadn't come to the Kingswood just to play the dutiful prince. As he had mentioned previously, he intended to ask King Jaehaerys for a tract of land to build his own domain.
After meticulously studying the maps, Gaemon had set his sights on a specific region near the Kingswood. This trip was his chance to conduct a physical survey. If the actual terrain matched his estimates, he would formally lock in his request.
In this era, selecting the site for a new settlement and castle was a monumental decision. A poor choice in geography could doom years of grueling labor and immense wealth to failure. Gaemon absolutely refused to commit until he had seen the dirt with his own eyes.
Following Jon's lead, Gaemon returned to his own tent. Having spent the entire day flying, the physical toll had finally caught up with him. He needed a good night's rest; tomorrow would be a long day.
---
The night passed quietly.
Early the next morning, the booming blast of King Jaehaerys's hunting horn signaled the official start of the competition.
Knights and lords—clad in sturdy leathers or shining plate, swords at their hips and longbows strapped to their mounts—fanned out into the dense canopy of the Kingswood. They were flanked by their personal guards and led by veteran huntsmen managing packs of vicious, straining hounds.
Gaemon paid the departing hunting parties no mind. He turned and walked directly toward Bahamut's resting spot.
He had his own mission today. He had already cleared his absence with the King early this morning, granting him the freedom to operate without raising suspicion.
"Bahamut," Gaemon murmured as he climbed into the heavy saddle. "I need to put you to work again today."
Thrum.
As if understanding his words perfectly, the platinum dragon let out a low, vibrating hum.
Gaemon locked his riding chains into place and gave the reins a firm tug.
Receiving the command, Bahamut shifted its rapidly growing mass, reared up on its hind legs, and drove its massive wings downward. The sheer force of the downwash kicked up a localized gale as the dragon launched itself into the sky.
Soaring high above the earth, Gaemon looked down at the sprawling landscape. The world truly felt like it was resting in the palm of his hand.
He banked the dragon toward the northeast, flying straight toward his target.
During his map studies, Gaemon had pinpointed a distinct, recessed bay located between the Kingswood and Massey's Hook. This was the mouth of the Wendwater.
The Wendwater was a vital river within the Crownlands. It originated deep in the heart of the Kingswood, flowing south to north before finally emptying into Blackwater Bay. The water carried a distinct, pale cyan hue due to the heavy concentration of moss, leaves, and rich forest soil.
The river was teeming with fish. Yet, because it cut directly through the King's exclusive hunting grounds, its massive aquatic resources remained completely unexploited. It was a pristine, untouched wilderness.
Furthermore, the surrounding Kingswood offered an effectively infinite supply of timber. The river itself was wide enough to support heavy shipping, acting as a natural, flowing highway connecting the deep forest straight to Blackwater Bay.
The moment Gaemon had noticed this region on the map, he knew he had to have it.
The Wendwater offered a direct inland connection to the Kingsroad—the primary artery linking King's Landing to Storm's End—while its mouth opened directly into Blackwater Bay, primed to intercept lucrative maritime trade. It was a flawless, undeveloped goldmine.
Following the course of the river from the sky, Gaemon scrutinized the terrain below.
The land hugging the Wendwater was remarkably flat, flanked by dense, ancient timber. Occasionally, he spotted wild game breaking from the tree line to drink from the banks. The river itself was wide and placid, its pale cyan surface rippling gently in the morning breeze. It was a scene of absolute, untouched tranquility.
Looking down from his saddle, Gaemon nodded to himself. It was perfect.
As he soared overhead, Gaemon was completely unaware of the eyes tracking him from the deep shadows of the forest canopy.
"Boss! Is that a bloody dragon?" a panicked whisper cut through the brush.
"Has to be," a gruff voice replied. "Probably one of the royals flying over the woods. Keep your heads down and stay quiet. Don't let the beast spot us."
Gaemon had already flown past their position, entirely oblivious. Had he looked closer, he might have bagged a few poachers for his father.
Even though he didn't see them, Gaemon knew perfectly well that the vast expanse of the Kingswood hid thousands of desperate souls—poachers hunting the King's deer to survive, and landless refugees illegally clearing patches of forest to escape the Crown's crushing taxes.
He didn't have the time to deal with them today. Once the land was officially his, he would figure out exactly how to handle the squatters.
Satisfied with the inland stretch, Gaemon guided Bahamut further downstream, tracing the river's flow until they reached the terminus.
It was exactly as he had envisioned. The mouth of the Wendwater was a classic tidal estuary, subject to massive, rhythmic tidal shifts.
Overall, the river boasted stable water levels, a gentle current, and a deep, wide channel. Better yet, it was fed by numerous smaller tributaries that could easily be diverted to irrigate the surrounding flatlands.
Staring out over the water, Gaemon could already see the future. He saw a sprawling, hyper-wealthy agricultural hub—a thriving metropolis built upon the bones of this untamed wilderness.
Following the current, he finally arrived at the exact point where the river met the sea: Wendwater Mouth.