In a lush green mountain wilderness of the Velvet Hills, a grey hare bounded over a tree stump in panic.
Thwip!
An arrow, swift as lightning, pinned the unfortunate hare directly to the ground.
Silver-haired, violet-eyed Viserys lowered his shortbow. His shot was sure, leaving no room for error.
Viserys appeared tall and handsome, yet possessed immense strength that belied his appearance. His muscles weren't the bulky mass of Argos, but rather lean and powerful without being cumbersome.
Viserys attributed this to his training and his talents of "Gluttony" and "Insight," making him a flashy yet dangerous warrior.
A dozen riders in leather armor galloped up, tasked with protecting the King and driving game towards him.
The burly Argos Blackpine dismounted and picked up the hare.
"Your Grace's archery grows ever more brilliant." The massive Argos held up the hare. "The nineteenth."
Viserys, wearing black leather armor emblazoned with the three-headed red dragon, stowed his shortbow. The bow used on horseback was different from the longbows of the infantry.
"Save the flattery, Argos. You need to earn the top spot yourself," Viserys said.
Viserys spurred his horse, riding freely through the vast hills. Most of his game were rabbits and pheasants; the larger ones were wild boars and deer.
Today, Viserys had shot mostly hares. He felt he could earn the nickname "Hare-Slayer."
"As you command, Your Grace!" Argos replied gruffly, remounting. He tossed the rabbit to one of the Andal squires accompanying them—blond, blue-eyed boys in their early teens.
Some had olive skin, as Andal villages often intermarried with their Rhoynar neighbors.
Amidst the hills and streams, Andal cavalry rode back and forth, chasing game and driving it in one direction for the kill.
The known world was vast and sparsely populated; hunting supplemented their food supply, a way of life for many Andals.
This wasn't just a hunt for Viserys; it was also a military exercise.
When men and horses were weary but satisfied, the cavalry escorted King Viserys back to the hunting camp established in the forest.
The black-and-red three-headed dragon banner fluttered above Viserys's tent in the center of the camp.
Viserys reined in his horse under a tree. The camp was filled with the appetizing aroma of food. The scent of baking bread tantalized the taste buds.
Beads of sweat glistened on Viserys's forehead, giving him a vibrant look.
"Your Grace!"
"Your Grace!"
Seeing Viserys, the Andal soldiers saluted one after another.
"Good work, everyone." Viserys greeted them in turn. Many of those hunting were Andal cavalrymen, and some were longbowmen.
Currently, the Andal cavalry wasn't numerous, mainly due to the cost of horses and training. Warhorses and armor were expensive to buy and maintain, not to mention the training required.
The ratio of cavalry to infantry in many armies ranged from 1:4 or 1:5 to 1:10. Wealth and training were key. Viserys knew the Westerlands had a ridiculously high proportion of cavalry, and the Reach wasn't far behind, with its large population naturally fielding more cavalry.
After comprehensive assessment, Viserys identified the Andals' elite unit: Andal Longbowmen. Many Andals were hunters who maintained the habit of using longbows.
These longbowmen were organized into a separate battalion. Properly trained, they would be a terrifying force. Longbow training wasn't easy; it required great strength and skill. Unlike crossbows, which could be mastered quickly, longbows offered advantages in range and power.
The standard Andal longbow was made of yew, with a maximum range of about 400 yards and an effective range of around 250 yards.
Better longbows were made of goldenheart or dragonbone, but their prices were astronomically high. There were also weird weirwood bows, in which Viserys had no interest.
"Argos: 10 hares, 4 wild ducks, 1 wild goat." Argos waved his massive fist.
"Hugo: 5 hares, 6 pheasants, 3 goldfinches..."
Heralds tallied the game each soldier had caught. The best performers would have the honor of drinking with the King.
For the martial Andals, this sparked fierce competition. Army morale was boosted through such rewards and punishments—merit was rewarded.
Viserys praised the bravest soldiers. The best soldiers and hunters were often selected through the training grounds and hunting fields.
After the tallying ceremony, it was time to share the food.
Soldiers roasted skinned and bled hares, wild goats, and pheasants over the fire. Trout caught from the river were encased in mud and baked.
Other food had been brought along with them.
Once the food was ready, a long table made of split logs was set up, and the feast began.
Roast hare, lamb chops, honey-glazed chicken, and baked trout steamed with fragrance, accompanied by Andalos sour wine.
Nature had gifted Andalos with many fine things. Without foreign incursions, this place would be a paradise.
"To His Grace Viserys! May the Seven bless King Viserys!" The towering Argos raised his cup of sour wine first.
"The Seven bless the King!" The warriors cheered together, their voices a joyous river.
"May this fortune continue unbroken." Viserys raised his drinking horn, the clatter of cups filling the camp.
Viserys seated the best hunters beside him. The top performers were the two closest to him.
On one side was the mountain-like Argos Blackpine. On the other was Hugo Rex, a sharp-shooting prodigy who had shone in the hunt. Hugo was a slender boy with curly golden hair who looked very shy.
But with a longbow in hand, he was an unparalleled marksman.
Viserys was training Hugo and Argos as his personal squires. Both had extraordinary talent and absolute loyalty. Argos was an orphan; Hugo had lost relatives to Tyroshi and Dothraki raids.
Into the joyful atmosphere of the hunting ground, a discordant note soon intruded.
Ser Roland Lake and Bishop Ebony of Andalos arrived hurriedly from Viserys Fort.
Ser Roland's blue-and-white cloak was conspicuous, as was Bishop Ebony's white cloak embroidered with a giant seven-pointed star.
"What's the situation?" Viserys asked.
"We received two letters. One from the Greenvine family in the south, one from the Rock family in the north," Ser Roland whispered.
"Oh." A sharp light flashed in Viserys's eyes. "What do they say?"
"See for yourself, Your Grace. The Greenvine letter is sweet with surrender, dripping like honey. The Rock family, on the other hand, scolded you," Bishop Ebony explained.
Viserys took the parchment letters. The Greenvine letter practically hailed him as the savior of Andalos, promising submission and offering vast quantities of wine and grain.
The Rock family's letter was starkly different, berating Viserys as an outsider with no right to be King of the Andals. If he wanted the title, he would have to defeat the Rock family's Iron Legion first.
"Interesting. Very interesting." Viserys looked at the two letters; the contents were worlds apart.
"Do you believe it? The Greenvine family's sincerity," Viserys asked Bishop Ebony and Ser Roland.
Ser Roland scoffed. "Their sweet words are like Varys's—poison to a king."
Bishop Ebony shook his head. "The Greenvines are too far from Andalos proper, closer to Pentos and Tyrosh. They aren't truly rustic, martial Andals."
"I don't believe it either," Viserys said firmly. "The Greenvine letter is honey, but their hearts are likely vipers."
"But I think we can beat them at their own game."
"In my name," Viserys told Ebony, "write a letter of thanks to the Greenvine family. Express the arrogance and conceit of a young king to the fullest. Demand they provide me with the best wine and girls. Since they want to meet me, let them come. Actually, forget it. I'll write it myself."
"As you command, Your Grace!" Bishop Ebony and Ser Roland nodded, seeming to smell the scent of conspiracy in the air.