Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 520: The Treasures of the Lands of the Long Summer

It was night.

The sky was dark, and the campfire cast a warm glow over the camp.

“Hurry up and dry off. Don't catch a chill,” Rhaegar said, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as he draped a black robe over his shoulders and walked into the tent.

Helaena, pale and drenched, her hair sticking to her skin, followed him. She boldly and unashamedly entered the tent to change into dry clothes.

Laena, her expression serious, walked into her own tent, wringing out her long, wet curls.

Outside, the three dragons, including the Cannibal, panted heavily, their scales steaming as they dried in the campfire's heat.

The camp was a safe distance from the Smoking Sea. After a grueling day of battling multiple fleets from Slaver's Bay and braving the storm, even the dragons were exhausted.

Dreamfyre lay sprawled on the hillside, and a new tent had been set up on the edge of its light blue wings. Inside the tent, people moved about, and faint, sorrowful prayers could be heard.

...

In the dead of night, the dark clouds began to clear, allowing the moonlight to wash away the desolation of the land.

“Roar...”

In the stillness, a slender scarlet dragon appeared, its large wings beating the air as it descended.

Boom!

Caraxes, brimming with energy, landed with a jolt, sending a plume of dust into the air.

Plop!

A figure tumbled from the dragon's back, rolling across the ground and alerting the camp.

Rhaegar, bare-chested and startled, pulled aside the tent curtain and peered out.

At that moment, a white figure dashed past him.

“Daemon!” Laena, having emerged from her tent, spotted Caraxes and the figure sprawled on the ground. Without hesitation, she rushed over.

“I’m here,” came a playful voice as Daemon, in full battle armor and unharmed, leapt off Caraxes. With a grin, he scooped up the fallen figure and said, “You all left too soon. Look who I’ve brought back.”

“Woo-hoo~~”

In the moonlight, the figure’s face came into view—a tall, disheveled man with white hair.

“A dragon seed?” Laena's brow furrowed in confusion.

Daemon, holding the ragged man by the collar, headed toward the tent with a calm demeanor. “Not just any dragon seed. I believe he may have valuable information.”

Nearby, Rhaegar hastily donned his clothes.

Helaena, her face flushed, had buried her head in her chest, her hands clasped behind her back, just as she was about to settle down for the night.

...

A few minutes later, the group gathered in Daemon's tent.

Rhaegar surveyed the scene. In one corner, huddled together, were the Valyrian slaves they had yet to interrogate. They shivered in fear, unlike the confident Daemon, who sat with one foot on the table and the other on the ragged man.

“What’s going on?” Rhaegar asked, his curiosity piqued.

Daemon chuckled, kicked the slovenly man, and said, “This thief claims to have seen the bastard Dragonlord. He might have some useful information.”

Rhaegar studied the man. His hair was so filthy it was impossible to determine its original color. He knelt on the ground, trembling with fear, a far cry from the strong man he pretended to be. At first glance, Rhaegar’s interest waned. It was evident that this man bullied the weak and feared the strong, making him an unreliable source.

“Nephew, don’t underestimate the small ones,” Daemon said with a sinister smile. He stepped on the scruffy man’s fingers, crushing them as he coldly demanded, “Tell me everything you know. Everything you think is useful information!”

“Yes, I’ll tell you everything,” the slovenly man stammered, clearly terrified by the dragon. “The new Dragonlord is a shepherd who raises sheep. I even bought wool from him. His family lived in the countryside and originally had no last name. When the ships of the Triarchy entered Meereen, the Good Masters began recruiting Valyrians. It was only when he heard about the dragons that the new Dragonlord was taken seriously.”

Bang! Daemon took off his helmet and smashed it onto the ragged man’s head. “Tell me something useful, or I’ll lose my patience.”

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” the ragged man cried, his head bleeding. “The new Dragonlord said that if the Good Masters could find him a dragon, he would be able to ride it and become its rider. The Good Masters believe in him and even invited a sorcerer from Asshai to do a divination. Although the results are unknown, the Good Masters set out in search of the dragon, which must have something to do with the new Dragonlord.”

He spoke rapidly, his breath coming in gasps. Exhausted and in pain, he fainted.

Daemon looked at the unconscious man with disdain. “Useless.”

“The information he provided is somewhat useful,” Rhaegar said, crossing his arms and maintaining his composure.

“Well, I have some information,” In the corner, a thin man with brown curly hair raised his hand.

Helaena, brushing her hair, glanced at him.

Laena met his gaze directly and said encouragingly, “Don’t be afraid. Tell us what you know. No one will hurt you.”

“Thank you.”

The thin man thanked her profusely and began, his voice trembling, “I was a cleaning slave in the Great Pyramid before being sent to the ship.”

“When I was cleaning the toilets, I overheard the Good Masters talking.”

“They said... they said...”

“What did they say?” Rhaegar asked, his interest piqued.

“They said they were collecting maps of the Lands of the Long Summer.”

The thin man swallowed to moisten his dry throat and continued, “It seems it was the new Dragonlord’s idea. He claimed the Lands of the Long Summer held treasures left by his family.”

“Where exactly?” Rhaegar’s interest deepened as he leaned forward.

The thin man glanced longingly at the red wine on the table and forced a smile.

“Drink.”

Laena, showing kindness, poured the half-drunk glass of wine from Daemon and handed it to him.

“Thank you so much.” The thin man thanked her repeatedly and drank the wine eagerly, wiping his chin with his hand and licking it clean.

Daemon glared at him coldly, clearly displeased.

Laena ignored Daemon and prompted gently, “Continue.”

“Yes, kind lady.”

The thin man, satisfied, spoke in detail, “I don’t know the exact location, but it’s near the Isle of Cedars. The Smoking Sea is dangerous; the Good Masters only send slaves to explore it. I suspect the treasure’s location is even more perilous, and even the fleet’s slave soldiers don’t know its exact spot.”

Hearing this, Rhaegar and the others exchanged glances.

The information was useful but lacked specifics, leaving them frustrated.

Rhaegar signaled, “You all can go out.”

The thin man immediately stood up, dragging the slovenly man with him, and left with the others.

Soon, the camp was quiet.

Rhaegar mused, “The Aethyrys family, known for their fertility, were keen on leaving legacies for future generations.”

The ruins of the Dragonlord in Myr are one such legacy. The information provided by the thin man is likely true. The Lands of the Long Summer probably do have Aethyrys treasures.

Helaena ran her fingers through her hair and remarked, “Without a specific location, it’s all for nothing.”

“But it’s very valuable.” Daemon leaned back in his chair, his eyes deep with thought, “The treasure of a Dragonlord family is priceless.”

“We don’t know where it is,” Laena countered.

“Then we’ll find out. The Good Masters and the Bastard Dragonlord of Meereen must know.” Daemon’s mind was clear.

Rhaegar thought it over and analyzed, “This fleet is searching for the young dragon, which means they consider it more valuable than the treasure itself.”

This suggests that the treasure is hard to find. Moreover, the new Dragonlord claimed he could ride a dragon, so he might have inherited some special power from his ancestors, such as a binding spell.

Daemon pondered how to uncover the treasure’s hiding place.

In the end, Rhaegar decided, “The Smoking Sea blockade has been broken, our mission is accomplished, and we shouldn’t waste more time here.”

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“Are we going back?” Helaena’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes,” Rhaegar nodded. “Instead of staying here, we should return to Westeros and rest for a while.”

During this time, both humans and dragons have been unable to eat or hunt, and they’ve been working at high intensity. The fleet is late and doing useless work.

Daemon thought for a moment and said, “That’s fine. We’ll wait for the fleet to gather, then go to Volantis first, and finally to Slaver’s Bay.”

Rhaegar nodded to Daemon and Laena and returned to the tent with Helaena.

The possibility of the dragon hatchlings being tamed was eliminated, removing a major worry. The rest was to completely eradicate the new bastard Dragonlord. Otherwise, it would always be a thorn in his side.

...

Seven days later.

Lys, the tower.

Four dragons landed in succession and entered the Dragonpit.

Rhaegar slid off the back of his dragon and asked Daemon, “Don’t you want to rest a bit?”

Daemon walked up to Caraxes, rubbed his hands on the scarlet dragon’s snout, and said lightly, “No, I’ll go back to Tyrosh after feeding Caraxes some sheep.”

“Roar...”

Caraxes's long, snake-like neck bent forward, and the dragon’s head followed Vhagar as it disappeared into the Dragonpit.

Soon, the Dragonkeepers drove a flock of sheep to feed the hungry dragons.

When Caraxes had eaten and drunk his fill, Daemon climbed onto the dragon’s back.

Laena, holding her left arm in one hand, looked at her husband, who said nothing.

Daemon couldn’t stand the reproachful look and turned his head to leave on the dragon.

“Daemon!”

Suddenly, Laena called out his name after a moment of hesitation.

Daemon turned around and looked down at her.

For a moment, they locked eyes.

Laena saw a hint of indifference and a trace of helpless boredom.

She wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“...”

After a few seconds, Daemon’s cold expression returned, and he gave the command: “Fly, Caraxes!”

“Roar...”

Caraxes obeyed, its body undulating like a snake, and its large, fleshy wings flapped as it took off.

He came and went in a hurry.

Rhaegar watched the entire scene, his emotions extremely complex, unsure of what to say.

Compared to Daemon, he was no better off.

After all, Rhaenyra, as his sister and wife, was more tolerant of him.

The two had a child early on, so they didn’t have to fight over succession.

The heir is always a hurdle that “power” cannot overcome.

“Let’s go, Laena.”

Helaena, understanding the situation, took Laena’s arm in silence and led her back to the tower with heavy footsteps.

Rhaegar followed closely behind.

...

Lys Tower

At that moment, someone arrived at the harbor ahead of them and was greeted by the queen and the council.

The Council Chamber

Rhaenyra wore a black off-the-shoulder dress adorned with a gold and silver filigree dragon ornament. Sitting alone in the main seat with one leg crossed, she gazed down at the people below her with a faint expression, exuding a cold and noble demeanor befitting a queen.

In front of the conference table, a man stood there, dressed in a brown suit. His dark hair and olive skin complemented the shrewd look in his eyes. He stood boldly, squinting at the scene before him.

His thin chest was adorned with a badge of the Harpy, marking him unmistakably as a merchant from Slaver's Bay.

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