The torch pulled Jon and the scattered dragon eggs out of the pitch-black shadows.
The shadows of Jon and the dragon eggs twisted with the flickering flames, like some strange dance.
Jon picked up a broken eggshell from the ground; it was sharp and hard like shattered glass.
He looked down and saw the remains of two hatchlings, each about the length of his foot.
They must have starved to death, unable to find food, or simply died prematurely for some other reason.
Even Targaryen dragons, once hatched, had been known to die within a few short hours.
The two tiny dragon skeletons were like ink blots at the end of a grand dragon epic.
Desolate and tragic.
Jon counted them. Besides the two dragon eggs that had already hatched, there were actually twenty-three intact dragon eggs here!
The Dragon Queen only collected three as a 'gift,' and he got twenty-three in one go!
However, Jon quickly realized that he couldn't take all of these dragon eggs with him.
Leaving aside whether that dead pine tree could bear the weight of all these dragon eggs, could he even protect so many dragon eggs?
Jon quickly made a decision: he would take three, and the rest would remain here.
Then he would simply snap off that old, dead pine tree!
That way, no one else could climb up.
If he ever truly hatched a dragon in the future, he could always come back for them.
Looking at the dragon eggs scattered across the ground, Jon was momentarily at a loss: which three should he choose?
...The Painted Dog Tribe was still as quiet as it had been for the past few centuries.
If not for the 'Ironclad' soldiers stationed there, it would be almost indistinguishable from usual.
"Elder Vidor."
"Oh, Chief Chick."
Chief Chick arrived at the hillside overlooking Hidden Fire Peak, and Vidor was indeed there.
Jon and his group had left five days ago, and Vidor's daughter, Sola, had also been missing for five days.
It didn't take a genius to figure out where that outgoing girl had gone.
Vidor was a bit worried.
"Worried about that girl of yours?" Chief Chick asked with a hint of teasing.
Vidor glanced at him but didn't answer, yet Chief Chick continued:
"Don't worry, that foreign lad is the most outstanding young man I've ever seen. Even if he can't climb up, bringing your daughter back safely won't be a problem."
"If that lad really climbs up, what do you plan to do?"
"Of course, I'll uphold the agreement. Besides, if he marries my daughter, I might consider entrusting him with the remaining warriors of the tribe."
Chief Chick looked at Vidor as if seeing him for the first time.
"You really care about this daughter, don't you? By the way, doesn't that woman you snatched hate you?"
"My concern for my daughter has nothing to do with that woman. She's merely my spoils of war," Vidor retorted, but then continued, "I know Sola wants to leave the tribe. If I can put her in the hands of a man like him, I'll be at ease..."
Chief Chick looked at his old rival and comrade, saying nothing, then brought up Hugh Wolf and voiced his suspicions.
He believed Hugh Wolf had ill intentions.
"Just a Hugh Wolf, I don't even put him in my eyes," Vidor said proudly.
Chief Chick was about to say something more when he suddenly saw three plumes of thick smoke rising from the summit of Hidden Fire Peak.
"Vidor, look! That foreign lad, he succeeded!"
...At the very beginning of this expedition, counting Hugh Wolf's men, there were nearly twenty people in total.
Now, including Sola and Harken, there were only six people left.
The six people gathered around three dragon eggs in the temporary camp, their eyes filled with wonder and even bewilderment.
The three dragon eggs looked like three enormous gems.
Jon had specifically chosen one burgundy, one dark red, and one that was primarily white with a red spot only at the top.
"These are dragon eggs? How can such small dragon eggs hatch such huge dragons?" Harken couldn't help but ask, pointing at one of the dragon eggs.
Sola was also stroking a dragon egg; it was heavy and pleasantly cool to the touch.
Old Yorek, meanwhile, was clutching a burgundy dragon egg, refusing to let go, practically drooling.
He was too excited to speak.
He never even dared to dream that he would one day see a dragon egg with his own eyes, let alone touch one.
Seeing everyone's reactions, Jon first addressed the two old soldiers:
"Listen carefully. If I hear anything about these dragon eggs in the barracks, even if you kill a thousand men for me, I won't give you any reward. On the contrary, as long as the secret isn't leaked, I'll give your families five hundred catties of grain!"
Hearing Jon say this, the two old soldiers nodded repeatedly.
Five hundred catties of grain, eaten sparingly, was enough for one person for two years!
Then he turned to Harken and Sola. Just as Jon was about to caution them to keep the dragon egg secret as well, Sola covered her mouth and pointed at the two old soldiers behind Jon.
Jon turned to look and saw their mouths were bloody, and they were holding half a tongue in their hands.
The old soldiers, their mouths full of blood, smiled and showed Jon the half-tongues in their hands, then tossed them off the cliff like trash.
They were illiterate to begin with, couldn't even write their own names. Now that they couldn't speak, it would be impossible for them to leak the secret.
Their decisiveness left Jon somewhat silent.
He knew that a simple warning still left the possibility of the dragon egg secret being leaked.
In other words, killing them would have been the safest decision.
However, Jon also knew that these old soldiers went to war, firstly, to lighten the burden on their children, and secondly, to earn some merit so their children could have an easier time in future winters.
From the moment they left their homes, they were calculating the value of their lives.
In Jon's eyes, they weren't expendable cannon fodder, but living, breathing people.
In the end, Jon said nothing, only secretly resolved to be careful and meticulous on the battlefield, trying to consider every detail.
He would absolutely not let any soldier who followed him die in vain.
"Jon, do we... have to cut our tongues too?" Harken suddenly asked, making Jon want to laugh.
"No, Harken. There are still a few dragon eggs on the mountain. My meaning is that you keep the secret of me obtaining the dragon eggs, and I'll keep the secret of the dragon eggs on the mountain for you.
In the future, if you become an Elder, perhaps you can lead people up the mountain to take the dragon eggs. Although the dragon eggs can no longer hatch dragons, they are still worth a lot of money, enough for everyone in your tribe to wear armor."
"Really!"
"Of course."
"Good, you can rest assured, I won't tell anyone."
Harken looked at the rope still hanging on the dead tree, wishing he could climb up right now.
However, Jon saw his intention, reached out and pulled, and the dead tree was directly uprooted and fell down the cliff.
"Take your time. You can send people to drive stakes into this rock face; this tree can't bear it."
Seeing Jon's reminder, Harken showed a grateful expression.
However, Jon wasn't worried that Harken would go up and take the dragon eggs early.
With the ironworking technology of this world, unless he used Valyrian steel, trying to drill holes in rock would be impossible.
Moreover, tribal clans like the Painted Dog Tribe only smelt a little bronze; iron smelting was difficult for them.
With Jon pulling down that pine tree, it would be even more impossible for anyone to climb up in the future.
Now it was time to go back and take command of the wildling army.