Chapter 488: Dragon Compass
Dragonstone
“Prince, thank you for seeing me off. Braavos will always be your loyal ally.”
On the beach, the messenger Baelus was moved to tears and bowed deeply.
Rhaegar stood with his hands behind his back, smiling faintly. “Say hello to the Sealord for me. I’ll visit Braavos when I have time.”
“It would be an honor,” Bael said, his voice filled with gratitude. After bidding farewell, he reluctantly boarded the ship.
Rhaegar watched him go, then turned his gaze to Dorys Dayne from Dorne, who stood solemnly nearby.
“Prince, Prince Qyle sends his regards,” Lys said, bowing respectfully.
With Sunspear under the control of the Iron Throne, young Qyle Martell harbored no rebellious thoughts, only a deep sense of fear and anxiety.
Rhaegar looked around, noting the presence of several Dorne nobles behind Dorys. He waved his hand dismissively.
“Prince.”
An elderly, disheveled Dragonkeeper stepped forward, holding a huge, milky-white sword in both hands.
Rhaegar took the sword, inspected it carefully, and said indifferently, “Return it to its rightful owner.” He flicked his fingers against the blade, handing it over with a hum.
Plop!
Dorys immediately dropped to one knee, his face flushed with excitement. “Prince, House Dayne will always be grateful for your kindness.”
“You will be well rewarded for your service.” Rhaegar looked down condescendingly, his eyes deep. “In the name of the Targaryen Regent, I appoint you as the Sword of Dawn and Lord of the Torentine.”
The Torentine is a major river in the Red Mountains that flows into the Summer Sea. House Dayne’s Starfall is located upstream of the Torentine.
“I will not fail you!” Dorys’ voice trembled as he took back the clan sword, Dawn, with both hands.
When news of Sunspear’s fall and his cousin’s death reached him, Dorys had surrendered on behalf of House Dayne. He knew that surrender was the only way to survive, especially with six dragons bombarding the city in turn. If they didn’t surrender, they would die. Moreover, the sword Dawn was in the hands of the Targaryens.
Rhaegar waved his hand. “Go now. Say hello to Qyle for me and ensure he accepts the Maester’s teachings well.”
A child should have a childhood of spoon-feeding.
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Dorys, deeply moved, led the fleet away, carrying Dawn in his arms. The fleet gradually grew smaller as it sailed into the distance.
"Roar!"
The black dragon roared, circling the island as if inspecting its long-lost territory.
Rhaegar stood in the wind, looking at the two fleets, and rubbed the back of his fingers together.
The peace agreement has been reached. The Iron Throne and Braavos would both win, while the Triarchy and Dorne fall.
“Not bad. The Iron Bank is very generous with its loans,” Rhaegar mused, already planning how to put the money to good use.
As for repaying the loan? I borrowed the money on my own merits, why should I pay it back? What if Braavos comes to collect? Ask them how many fleets the Sealord has. If you don't believe me, try me.
"Roar!"
Cannibal sensed its rider’s emotions, its mouth opening in a hideous arc as it roared furiously.
Rhaegar clapped his hands and turned to walk back. His feet sank into the soft sand, with the blue sky and sea, and white clouds floating leisurely behind him. The arrogance of a man and a dragon relying on each other was palpable.
Entering the iron gate of Dragonstone, Rhaegar remembered his business and asked, “Are there any newly hatched young dragons on Dragonmount?”
He spoke in High Valyrian, which is short and to the point.
The old dragonkeeper trailed behind him, his expression full of bitterness. “No, Dragonmount is very quiet.”
Rhaegar did not believe him and continued to ask, “What about Vermithor and Silverwing? Has it not laid new eggs?"
After Vhagar, Silverwing and Dreamfyre had always been fertile egg layers.
The old dragonkeeper shook his head. “Silverwing is sleeping. There are no eggs.” He leaned on a bamboo stick.
Rhaegar frowned slightly, thinking to himself, "Dragonstone has no young dragons, so it must be the Smoking Sea."
Commonly known as wild dragons, they are hard to catch, especially young dragons with inconspicuous bodies. It's hard to find them even if you look for them.
“Maybe they're in Braavos or Sothoryos?” Rhaegar thought as he walked, recalling his encounter with the Braavosi emissary, Baelus. A shrewd politician, Rhaegar had caught a glimpse of guilt in the man's eyes. What was he hiding?
Rhaegar's eyes grew dangerous as he speculated, “There must be a secret behind the death of the previous Sealord.”
Compared to the Smoking Sea and Sothoryos, where new young dragons might be hatching, he would rather believe that the three missing eggs from Dreamfyre had hatched.
“I must visit Braavos and plant more spies there,” Rhaegar thought, not wanting to alert the enemy. There was some doubt about the hatching of the dragon eggs in Braavos. If there are young dragons, the news can't be kept secret.
With the death of the former Sealord, the two young dragons must be the target of competition from the forces behind the Iron Bank. It shouldn't be so quiet. Unless...
Rhaegar had a flash of inspiration. “They don't have the young dragons.” Wildfires had destroyed a harbor, and there were very few witnesses around. Unless someone had set it up in advance, the young dragons would have definitely escaped. Speaking of arrangements, the former Sealord was blown up. Even if there was a plan, they would have died in the wildfire.
The old dragonkeeper saw that the Prince was thinking and said hesitantly, “There are many dragon eggs in the nest.” Not only were there eggs, but also Wyverns' eggs. The Wyverns' eggs were well-preserved under the dragonkeeper's careful care, but it was unclear whether they would hatch.
Rhaegar came back to his senses and said thoughtfully, “Tell the dragonkeepers to step up patrols on Dragonmount and monitor the movements of Vermithor and Silverwing.” There are only two dragons left on the island, but we still need to keep an eye on them.
The old dragonkeeper did not dare to be negligent and said humbly, “Yes, sir.”
At Rhaegar's signal, the team headed for the towering Dragonmount.
...
Stone Drum Tower, the Greenhouse
Though called a greenhouse, it was actually a special cellar designed to keep the dragon eggs warm.
Click!
Rhaegar lit the oil lamps on the walls, using the dim light to guide him through the deep tunnel. The greenhouse was spacious, resembling an underground palace, with hollowed-out walls holding one furnace after another.
“They’re all dragon eggs!” Rhaegar lifted the lid of one furnace, releasing a sulfurous white smoke that revealed a dark dragon egg.
Each furnace contained a dragon egg, with colors ranging from green to blue-white to dark red. Rhaegar counted them one by one, totaling sixteen healthy eggs. These included the three eggs that Syrax had laid for the first time: green, gray, and orange. Syrax had laid two batches of three eggs each. The second batch of eggs hatched almost simultaneously, producing Moondancer and Morning. The last bronze egg had been placed in the cradle of his eldest son, Baelon.
“The family is small; otherwise, we would have hatched several eggs by now,” Rhaegar mused, looking hopefully at the dark egg and rubbing it against his cheek. “Old buddy, when will you hatch?”
The dark dragon egg, produced by Dreamfyre and personally selected by Rhaenyra, had been placed in Rhaegar’s cradle. Unfortunately, the egg and the person were not destined to be together. The black dragon inside the shell had not hatched, benefitting the large black dragon that consumed young dragons.
Rhaegar played with the black dragon egg for a while before reluctantly putting it back in the oven. “Let's keep it well and save it for the children of the future,” he said to himself.
After all, Jeyne had been pregnant for several months, and the baby was expected in early summer. Rhaegar thought for a moment and shook his head. “I’d better choose another dragon egg.”
He wandered around the greenhouse, looking for a dragon egg that he liked. Rhaenyra had broken her relationship with Jeyne, and if he gave Jeyne’s child the egg that Rhaenyra had chosen for him—well, his life would be short.
As he continued to pick, Rhaegar became accustomed to the dim light of the greenhouse, and a wave of drowsiness came over him.
“Yawn~”
After checking the last Wyvern egg, he yawned again. “I’m so sleepy,” Rhaegar muttered, feeling a strange sensation. He needed to sleep!
He walked back to the greenhouse and took out the dark egg. Rhaegar spread out a blanket and fell asleep with the egg in his arms.
Clang!
The sword Vigilance, tied to his waist, fell and was pressed under the weight of a person and an egg. Gradually, Rhaegar drifted into sleep.
...
Outside,
Hoo-
A black dragon broke through the clouds, its green pupils surveying the mountains below, its snout sniffing eagerly.
It had caught a special scent.
"Roar!"
Suddenly, the Cannibal's green pupils flashed with murderous light, and it let out an excited roar. A trace of dragon saliva slipped from its mouth.
It remembered what the smell was.
It was the scent of prey!
The pair of jet-black dragon wings flapped, and the huge body immediately turned, diving deftly into the clouds before soaring high into the sky.
The target: Dragonmount.
...
It was getting late.
In the greenhouse, Rhaegar lay half-asleep. His handsome face was confused, his eyes half-open and half-closed, resembling a lost and broken teenager.
As expected, he fell asleep again.
Continuing from last night's dream, fragments of mist, waves, and young dragons kept flashing before him, as if compressed knowledge was being forced into his brain. Rhaegar passively endured it, and the images froze on the last frame: mist, a mountain, a young black dragon...
"Roar..."
The black dragon panicked, broke through the layers of fog, and plunged into Rhaegar's arms.
Yes, Rhaegar's arms.
Rhaegar's eyes widened as he hugged the baby dragon without hesitation.
Plop!
The force of the impact sent Rhaegar reeling. The pain made it hard for him to breathe. He fell to the ground, hitting his head hard.
Then he hit his head on the ground again.
A voice suddenly sounded.
“This exploration is complete. Please pick up the lost treasure.”
Rhaegar was startled awake by the sound and looked around in confusion.
He reached out and grabbed a hard dragon egg and a light purple halo.
Poof! The purple aura burst open, turning into a small purple light that entered his hand like cotton wool. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
“Relic successfully picked up, testing...”
"The test was successful. It was determined to be an epic relic, a treasure of the Seer."
Rhaegar was slightly startled and hit his head hard to wake up.
“Epic relic, the Seer?” he muttered to himself and tried to summon the relic.
Vigilance of House Hightower that gave him the treasure of the Seer is still there. It can only be said that they are worthy of being top nobles with a thousand-year heritage.
Hum
Rhaegar sat up, and a stone compass appeared out of thin air. The compass was gray and white, with tiny cracks all over it, about the size of two adult palms. It was very round, with a dozen ferocious dragon patterns carved on the surface.
“Inscription?”
Rhaegar flipped through the compass and faintly saw the inscriptions in a circle. Unfortunately, the years had blurred the inscriptions. Rhaegar looked forward to seeing the font change on the system panel.
“The Dragon Compass, made by a bloodmage Seer, is useful to find dragons.”
“Find dragons?”
Rhaegar whispered, seeing the keywords “blood” and “dragon.”
Zila!
He cut his palm with a knife, and a drop of blood fell onto the compass.
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