A Western fantasy journey that began with Game of Thrones

The desert climate is cold at night, and the air breathed by people and animals is covered with white frost, but the people of Dorne are used to the opposite temperature difference at night, just as they are used to moving in hot weather.

Many Dorne people even prefer to move at night rather than during the day.

The river named Sulfur River is surging not far away, and the sound of it can be clearly heard in a village under a high sand hill not far from the river bank. Dorne buildings are usually made of loess and stones, mixed with those tenacious and tough plants growing in the desert, which looks full of exotic style.

However, whether it is the people living here or some outsiders, they basically don't pay attention to this.

The village is crowded at this time, and the loud roar of the villagers' scouts makes everyone here lose their sleepiness, and they rush out of their homes and gather together - there are riders coming here.

A sound of horse hooves was heard from afar. The people in the village held sticks and farm tools and looked nervously in the direction of the sound, but some old people were calm.

"If there were cavalry from the north, the lord would have come to inform us long ago. Those three bastards riding dragons can't ride horses either. They must be our own people."

A bald old man chewing grass stalks claimed so, but the increasingly loud horse hoof sounds made the people around him not pay attention to his words. They stared at the direction of the sound, and all men and women were ready to fight or flee.

However, when they saw the specific attire of the people coming, their tense emotions suddenly relaxed and began to talk.

"What happened again?"

"It's definitely not a good thing these days."

"Is the dragon bastard coming for revenge?"

...

After the dragon fell in Hellgate half a month ago, the riders arrived here along the coast and informed the good news of killing the dragon, but the Dornish here didn't know the real situation - although this race is united, some news is not suitable for everyone to know, otherwise it will inevitably leak out.

However, their speculation about this stopped soon, because the two riders in sight were already close to a certain distance.

They wore brass scale armor and breeches that only the soldiers under the lord wore, without helmets on their heads, but wearing black cloak hoods, and the lower half of their faces were also wrapped in khaki scarves.

Far away, before reaching the fence at the edge of the gathering village, the rider in front spoke loudly: "By order of Lord Uller, Lord of Prison Gate, a reward for two fugitives, one man and one woman, report any clues immediately, Lord will give a huge reward!"

The rider was wearing a scarf, but his fluent common language with Dornish characteristics could perfectly show his identity. At the same time, he shook off the silk in his hand while speaking, so the two simple faces painted on it were reflected in the eyes of the villagers who came closer.

"Silver hair? Is it the dragon bitch?"

Someone scanned the portrait from head to toe, and then asked: "Last time you said-"

"The dragon bitch is dead!" The rider scolded: "Don't believe in rumors!"

"But I heard that she escaped?"

The rider did not answer this question, but stood up proudly, "Don't ask if you shouldn't ask, just remember Lord Uller's order!"

After he finished speaking, he patted his horse's butt and rode away along the road in front of the village, leaving the villagers here with a reverie of the back.

Another dark-faced rider behind them glanced at them and followed silently.

No one noticed anything unusual about the two men. They looked like messengers sent by the lord to report, but in fact, they were not.

The two riders trotted one after the other. Until the people behind them were far away and could not be seen at all, the black-faced rider kicked the horse's belly and stepped forward, giggling at the rider in front who seemed calm but was actually trembling with fear and clamping his legs.

"Good sir, you can't ride a horse?" The slightly hoarse voice was obviously not a male voice.

"I told you I'm not a sir." The hunched-over rider in front glared at the other person unhappily.

People in Westeros call knights sirs, and those who are not knights will probably be happy to be called that, but Renly just felt that the other party was deliberately mocking him.

In fact, he is not yet old enough to learn to ride a horse, and now he can barely ride on the road, which is already his extraordinary talent.

"Many people who are not knights can ride horses, even women."

"There are always exceptions." Renly retorted, but the other party did not stay on this topic. His purple eyes, which looked black in the night, turned and scanned his whole body, with a smile.

"You know, sometimes I always feel that you are not a Dornishman, although you are." After leaving this sentence, the black-faced rider squeezed the horse's belly and ran away first.

Looking at the other party's back, Renly curled his lips secretly.

This is the sixteenth day since he came to this historical copy.

The three Dornishmen who were attacked by them a while ago were actually responsible for sending messages to various places. After discovering this, Renly decided to pass himself off as a fake, hoping to use this identity to get through the next journey.

This is not impossible to accomplish. Although he is a fake, his voice seems to be instinctively the same as other Dornishmen. At the same time, there is no equipment to leave images in this era. At most, someone can draw their appearance.

But if the painter has never seen the real person, then their work obviously cannot be very realistic - the deceptive silk portrait on hand is proof of this.

In addition, the little queen Rhaenys was good at makeup skills. She used charcoal ash and other materials to apply it, so no one would notice anything unusual at night.

In this way, they didn't encounter too many twists and turns along the way, except that they were teased by two enthusiastic Dornish women, and the little queen almost exposed herself.

Now, the dark coastline is already dimly visible, and the sound of waves can be heard faintly. When they really get close to the sea, this journey is the end, and the dangers of Dorne are basically forgotten.

The next section of the journey is to take the sea route.

The premise is that they can get a boat.

...

Under the moonlight, the two riders ran straight to the south. The dust raised by the horses' hooves floated up and quietly dissipated with the cold moonlight. As they approached the sea, the wind around them began to get heavier and colder.

They saw the last Dornish village in front of the beach. From a distance, the sound of horses' hooves began to weaken, and they also paid special attention to whether there were scouts around.

"Is there really a boat here?" After looking at the village at the end of her sight, Rhaenys asked.

They hope to get a small boat from this village and row away.

"Most salt people make a living by fishing, so they must have a boat." Renly replied in a low voice.

He had read a book called The Conquest of Dorne, which recorded the ethnicity of the Dornish. They were all called Dornish, but just like the northerners were all called northerners, it was just a general term.

In fact, the Dornish are divided into three categories. The author of the book named them Stone People, Sand People, and Salt People.

Stone People live in the mountains of Dorne, with white skin and beautiful hair, Sand People live in the desert, with skin generally tanned brown, and the last Salt People live on the southernmost seashore of Dorne, with black hair and olive skin with alien characteristics.

At this time, the author of the book was not born yet, and even his ancestor was next to Renly, but many things have been passed down for a long time, and even if you haven't read it, there are generally fishermen in the seaside villages.

Renly was very sure of this.

As for what to do after getting the boat, that would be another matter. Anyway, it was better than being in the enemy's territory.

However, before they got close to the village, there was a sudden rumbling sound of horse hooves hitting the ground. Renly's face changed after hearing the sound, and then he turned his horse without hesitation.

Unfortunately, he just turned around on his horse and found that a circle of Dornish riders had surrounded them from all directions and were approaching quickly.

In the desert covered by moonlight, a group of riders slowly circled around the two people who dared not move, and one of the tall figures glanced at Renly and laughed.

"The traitor and his dragon bitch will come to us on their own initiative. What the priest said is true!"