Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 410: Aethyrys Dragonlord Family

Narrow Sea.

"Roar—"

A pitch-black dragon soared past, its wide wings brushing against stretches of white clouds.

The giant dragon flew over the disputed lands and entered the waters governed by Myr.

"Cannibal, slow down," Rhaegar commanded, his gaze fixed on the distant Free City.

Myr, built along the coast, was engulfed in rolling smoke, the smell of scorching reaching several nautical miles.

"Roar..."

Cannibal's green vertical pupils were icy cold as it plunged into the cool clouds, its huge body gliding low against the waves.

The dragon's chest cut through the surface of the sea, stirring up large splashes. Rhaegar's eyes never left the nearing Myr. Upon receiving news of the riot, he had rushed back immediately.

The discovery of a large hole, possibly the ruins of a Dragonlord's abode, was a windfall. He needed more theoretical knowledge and experience from the Dragonlord family, even the systematic tomes of Blood Sorcery and Pyromancy. At the very least, he sought a deeper understanding of the Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord bloodline.

His recent transformation into a Dragonborn had brought many subtle changes. Rhaegar urgently needed the appropriate knowledge to lay a solid foundation.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Dragonborn (54%)

Rune: Bronze (Green), Serpent (Blue)

Blood Sorcery: Dragonstone (Blue), Enchantment Spell (Blue)...

Relics: Blood and Fire, Dreamscape...

Evaluation: "Transcendent, an indictment of a new age".

Silently calling up the Explorer System Panel, Rhaegar reviewed his status and couldn't help but feel a surge of expectation. His bloodline was constantly being purified, gradually transforming him into a Dragonborn.

During the ancient Valyrian period, had the topranked Dragonlord families tapped into this and cultivated Dragonborn warriors? The Valyrians had been masters of blood and fire magic, after all.

Cannibal's speed was exceptional, and they approached Myr in no time.

"Roar..."

A loud and clear dragon roar echoed through the city-state, filled with anger and warning. Rhaegar looked up at the sound.

A scarlet dragon hovered over the city-state, its wide wings sweeping the wind as it frequently swooped to unleash Dragonfire. Wherever the Dragonfire landed, the ragged locals fled in disarray.

"The riot is still going on," Rhaegar observed, formulating a plan.

Meleys circled an area in the center of Myr where the Magister's Palace was located.

"Cannibal," Rhaegar patted the dragon's back, conveying his intent.

"Roar—"

Cannibal instantly understood, roaring as it ascended above Myr. The ghostly green Dragonfire it breathed out covered the previously blue sky.

The entire city of Myr buzzed with excitement.

Civilians and slaves alike kneeled devoutly, bowing to the deity of their faith.

There was no special reason for this, just one overwhelming fact: a pair of pitch-black wings that seemed to have emerged from the depths of hell, embodying the essence of death.

Cannibal did not linger long, circling the entire city before landing in the central area.

Boom—

As the dragon touched down, the hearts of countless Myrmen leapt into their throats.

"Roar—"

Cannibal let out a deafening roar, its scorching breath dispersing the disorganized crowd who hadn’t found cover in time. Instantly, the entire city-state fell silent, gripped by inexplicable fear.

Cannibal's green vertical pupils glared disdainfully as the dragon's feet stepped on the edge of the ruins. It lowered its head for Rhaegar to dismount.

Rhaegar, clad in black robes and with Truefyre at his waist, surveyed the devastated city center. The disorganized people cowered in the corners, burying their heads and not daring to move. The dragon did not need to breathe Dragonfire to instill terror; its mere presence was enough.

The moment Cannibal appeared, the chaotic populace finally grasped the reality of their situation.

Rhaegar didn't mind helping them remember the horrors of the Deathwing.

"Roar..." freewebnøvel.com

Meleys roared roughly, flapping its wings as it landed violently. In the stirred-up dust, Rhaenys, clad in red armor, wore a stony expression.

With the two dragons grounded, the previous chaos fell into complete silence.

Swish swish...

A disciplined running sound followed, as hundreds of Fearless clad in black armor blocked the city's exits.

Rhaegar, still astride Cannibal, noted that the former Magister's Palace was now rubble, revealing a wide and deep underground pit. The chaotic citizens seemed drawn to it.

Dismounting, Rhaegar approached Rhaenys and asked, "Aunt, what's going on here?"

Rhaenys's brows knitted together as she replied indignantly, "Someone spread a rumor that the Dragonlord's treasure is hidden in that pit."

She quickly recounted the events: The old noble class had incited a riot, and someone had supplied the rioters with weapons. They had taken advantage of the night to kill the patrolling Fearless squad, stolen stone throwers and artillery meant for city defense, and attempted to destroy the Magister's Palace.

Under indiscriminate bombardment, the palace had collapsed, exposing a deep underground pit. Rebels spread rumors that the pit contained the treasure of the ancient Valyrian Dragonlord, promising untold riches and the power to tame a magic dragon to whoever found it.

Rhaegar's gaze was unkind as he scanned the hundreds of disorganized people kneeling by the ruins. It was obvious, even without deep thought, that the remnants of the Triarchy had a hand in this citywide uprising.

And the only ally capable of supplying such a large number of weapons was Braavos, halfway across the Narrow Sea.

"Our sea power is still too weak," Rhaegar muttered, unhappy with their firepower.

The only fleets that had become formidable forces in Westeros were House Velaryon, House Redwyne, House Manderly, and a few others.

After the Battle of the Narrow Sea, the Velaryon fleet had suffered significant damage but was still capable of garrisoning Lys. The fleets of House Hightower, Lannister, and Celtigar could barely defend the Stepstones. Overall, they had enough to defend but not enough to advance.

Rhaegar sighed softly. "What's the situation in the deep pit? Has anyone gone in?"

"Yes," Rhaenys replied, her face flushed with anger. "Many disorganized people rushed into the deep pit, and..."

Her words trailed off, unable to continue. Anger clouded her features, but she seemed unable to express it.

Rhaegar frowned slightly, intending to inspect the pit himself.

"Roar..."

Cannibal's green vertical pupils were alert. The dragon's tail swung in front of Rhaegar, preventing him from moving forward.

A second later, a sharp roar echoed from deep within the pit, reverberating like lazy water waves.

Rumble—

Amidst the chaotic noise, the bloodthirsty Blood Wyrm with a scarlet body and a long neck like a snake crawled out of the deep pit. Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, not expecting to see Caraxes there.

Caraxes's vertical pupils were cruel. The dragon's jaws tore at bloody flesh, and his wide wings released choking smoke.

Through the dust, a black-clothed silhouette slowly emerged. Rhaegar watched silently, his eyes glowing with a hint of coolness. No wonder Rhaenys had difficulty speaking—Daemon had taken the opportunity to slip in.

It seemed the pain of losing his son had driven Daemon to show his presence again.

Rhaegar beckoned to the nearest Fearless, who handed him a spear.

"Uncle, a little gift for you," Rhaegar called out warmly, a grin curling the corners of his mouth.

With a powerful throw, the spear shot like a meteor, aimed precisely at the figure in the dust. Whether or not it would kill him, only the Stranger would decide.

Tyrosh wasn't sable enough for Daemon to dare enter his territory and cause havoc without facing consequences.

Bang—

The spear shot forward with lightning speed, piercing the dust cloud.

"Roar..."

Caraxes was the first to sense the danger, letting out an ear-piercing screech. The black-robed figure dodged, the spear grazing his head with a close, narrow cut.

The tip of the spear embedded itself in the rubble with a thud, the wooden shaft splintering from the force.

"Quite a cheap life you have," Rhaegar murmured coldly, watching intently.

Clap, clap, clap...

A round of applause rang out from the dust, and the figure gradually came into view.

Daemon stepped out with a steady pace, laughing nonchalantly. "Nephew, you nearly took your uncle's life."

A large gash marred the left side of his face, oozing blood. If not for his quick reflexes, the spear would have impaled him.

With a disappointed expression, Rhaegar sighed. "Uncle, it's a shame you're still alive."

Daemon was a perpetual troublemaker; wherever there was chaos, he was in the middle of it. How had he not been pinned by the spear in the ruins?

As they exchanged words, Rhaegar noticed something in Daemon's hands. Two heavy books were clutched under his left arm, and his right hand dragged a dragon egg.

Rhaegar's gaze sharpened.

The books were plain, their covers depicting a red dragon wearing a crown. The dragon egg was scarlet, its shell fossilized and covered with a layer of stone slag.

Noticing his nephew's interest, Daemon weighed the fossilized dragon egg twice and said indifferently, "Like it? There are plenty in the deep pit, all carried by the chaotic people."

"Is there really a Dragonlord's ruin underground?" Rhaegar asked, ignoring the teasing tone in Daemon's voice. He was only interested in the facts.

Daemon nodded. "That's right. A Dragonlord family named 'Aethyrys' once owned half the land in Myr."

As he spoke, he walked over to Caraxes's side.

Swish...

The Fearless moved swiftly, encircling Daemon with spears in hand. Daemon's expression remained unchanged, completely disregarding the dozens of armed men.

"Roar!"

Caraxes stretched his neck and hissed at the tiny figures that dared to approach within ten feet. The Fearless, as if confronting an enemy, forced themselves to hold their ground, suppressing their fear.

Daemon glanced at them and remarked, "Not bad."

Man and dragon stood together, radiating an intimidating presence.

"Stand back," Rhaegar commanded, waving his hand.

Daemon's face remained impassive as he said, "This ruin is one of the shelters left behind by the Aethyrys family. Unfortunately, it wasn't used, but there are still plenty of valuable items inside."

"Would you really let me have it?" Rhaegar asked skeptically.

Daemon smiled. "Think what you want. I've got what I came for."

With that, he nimbly climbed onto Caraxes and tucked the two precious books into his armor.

Rhaegar's gaze was sharp, fixed on his uncle's chest. Experience had taught him that knowledge was wealth, and Daemon had certainly found something valuable.

"Roar..."

Cannibal let out a low growl, its green vertical pupils locked onto Caraxes, radiating a terrifying aura.

Rhaegar smiled, a hint of danger lurking beneath. Taking something and leaving so easily? What did Daemon think he was?

Caraxes, vigilant, lowered its neck and growled a warning, always on guard against Cannibal. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

The air around them seemed to drop to freezing as the two dragons squared off.

In the end, it was Daemon who relented first, casually tossing the fossilized dragon egg to his nephew. "Consider the books borrowed. I'll return them after reading."

Rhaegar caught the fossilized dragon egg with ease, his dangerous smile fading.

Waving his hand as if chasing flies, he added, "Be careful with the knowledge in those books and return them within seven days!"

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