Chapter 286: The Sea Monster Attack
"Hiss… Gaa…"
With the danger resolved, the Gluttonous One raised its head proudly, wisps of dragon fire seeping from its maw.
Seeing its display, Rega smirked. "Good job, buddy."
As the man and dragon interacted, the mercenaries who had narrowly escaped death collapsed onto the scattered rocks, exhausted and weak.
"My lord, we should leave quickly."
A few mercenaries stationed at the entrance of the ruins stood back-to-back, keeping a wary distance from their returning comrades.
"Alright." Rega understood the hidden meaning in their words. He dragged his weary body a bit farther away.
Mercenaries had their own rules for survival—he didn't need to interfere.
Soon, agonized screams echoed in the distance.
When they regrouped at the shoreline, aside from the guards left outside, only seven or eight others had made it back.
Among them, one had lost an arm, another had lost a left leg.
The rest, aside from their tattered leather armor, were mostly unharmed.
Rega remained silent, boarding a small boat with the others to row back to the sailing ship.
He knew that those who hadn't made it out had undoubtedly been infected with Greyscale.
As for the two mercenaries who had lost limbs, they were merely delaying the inevitable, praying the disease wouldn't spread further.
That night, the sea became rough, and a chilling wind howled through the mist, resembling the cries of a helpless woman.
The ship rocked with the waves, and the torches hanging on the deck flickered in the dense fog.
Inside the captain's quarters, Rega lay on the fixed bed, eyes closed, trying to rest. His bare body swayed with the ship's motion.
In his arms, he cradled a green dragon egg with one hand and held his greatsword, Light Howl, with the other.
"Hiss… Gaa…"
Amidst the Gluttonous One's screeches, the ship cut through the waves, steadily sailing away from the ruins.
In the blink of an eye, dawn arrived.
The golden sunlight broke through the thinning clouds, casting a warm glow over the sea.
After a night of turbulence, the ship finally sailed past the thick, smoke-filled mist, returning to the clear skies and safety.
"My lord, ahead lies the ruins of Stone Bridge. At this pace, we should be out of the Smog Sea in two days at most."
Robert, holding a nautical chart, was ecstatic.
He had been well protected by the mercenaries the previous day. The Stonefolk had failed to harm him, so he was still fulfilling his role as a sailor.
"Understood."
Rega, still fatigued, rubbed his temples and added, "Inform everyone—their payment will increase by thirty percent when we return to Volantis."
The storm had kept him awake all night.
"As you command." Robert grinned ear to ear and went off to relay the message.
Soon, cheers erupted from the mercenaries on board.
With the mission nearing completion and their employer offering higher pay, this was the best news they could hope for.
The lingering fear and resentment from the perilous journey dissipated, replaced by greed and excitement.
Rega, with dark circles under his eyes, leaned against the railing, tilting his head back to soak in the morning sun.
The ruins exploration had been a success. He felt these mercenaries, who had upheld their professional duty, deserved a reward.
Time ticked away.
The ship drifted forward, and at last, the ruins of Stone Bridge appeared on the horizon.
Rega remained seated, leisurely biting into an orange. "A short nap did wonders."
Under the vast blue sky, he occasionally glanced at the ruins in the distance, a rare sense of calm settling over him.
"Hiss—Gaa—!"
Suddenly, the Gluttonous One let out a furious roar, lowering its altitude while its black wings stirred up powerful gusts.
Rega's gaze sharpened. Recognizing the warning, he immediately stood up from the deck.
Scanning the surroundings, his expression darkened.
At that moment, their ship was about to pass through the ruins of Stone Bridge.
However, without anyone noticing, massive hordes of horrifying Stonefolk, their bodies covered in gray scales, had emerged from the shores on both the north and south sides.
Most of them were shirtless, their wild, beast-like eyes filled with hunger as they crowded the shore, shouting hoarsely.
They were waiting for the ship to get close—then they would swarm it.
"My lord, what do we do?"
The mercenary vice-captain, face grim and forehead slick with sweat, clutched his scimitar tightly.
Their captain and commanding officer had died at the hands of a Shadowbinder the previous day, leaving the vice-captain in charge.
"Hold your ground—it's just a bunch of Stonefolk."
Rega's face was sour. He hadn't expected so many of them in the Smog Sea.
A rough estimate of the mobs on both shores put their numbers at no less than three hundred.
Rega sighed internally but didn't complain too much.
The ruins of House Balerion were likely on the outer edge of the Smog Sea, far from the core areas left devastated by the Doom of Valyria.
Stonefolk were just Greyscale victims who had been discarded into the Smog Sea, where they naturally gathered.
"My lord, the ship is about to reach the ruins of Stone Bridge."
The eerie wails and howls of the Stonefolk filled the air. The vice-captain, tense and anxious, gripped his weapon tightly.
In a direct battle, the sixty hardened mercenaries aboard had nothing to fear from two or three hundred enemies.
But these weren't ordinary foes—they were Stonefolk.
Even the slightest scratch risked infection. No one wanted to engage these creatures in close combat.
Rega understood their concerns and spoke calmly. "Maintain formation. Use arrows to keep the ones trying to jump aboard at bay. We have a dragon."
"Hiss… Gaa…"
Sensing its master's intent, the Gluttonous One let out an agitated cry, its green slit-pupils filled with cruelty as it looked down on the Stonefolk.
"Dragonfire!" Rega didn't hesitate to give the order.
Just as the ship reached the ruins of Stone Bridge, the Gluttonous One swooped low, baring its menacing jaws.
Boom!
A torrent of emerald flames erupted like a pillar of fire, surging toward the southern shore of the ruins with immense force.
Sizzle—!
Instantly, over a hundred Stonefolk let out shrill, agonized screams as they were engulfed in the inferno, turning into charred husks that crumbled at the slightest touch.
"Prepare to fire! Draw your bows!"
Witnessing this exhilarating scene, the vice captain was deeply shaken and excitedly commanded the battle.
Plop, plop…
Before long, the stonefolk who had survived the first wave of dragonfire slaughter were driven into a frenzy. Like dumplings dropping into boiling water, they leaped into the sea, swimming toward the approaching sailing ship.
"Dragonfire!" Rega remained calm and continued issuing orders.
Hiss… crackle…
The Devourer adjusted its course midair, unleashing a stream of dragonfire toward the northern shore, leaving no stonefolk in the water untouched.
Under the misty, smoke-like flames, the stonefolk had no chance of escape. Even those who dove into the sea struggled to survive.
However, a few lucky ones managed to stay alive, lurking beneath the surface as they approached the ship.
Standing at the edge of the deck, Rega looked down and saw a grotesque stonefolk clinging to the ship's hull, using its sharp claws to climb rapidly.
The mercenaries stationed along the deck noticed as well, quickly drawing their bows and firing at the intruders.
With their swift response, the situation turned in their favor.
Then, suddenly—
A burst of fire erupted from the misty sea more than a dozen miles away, shooting into the sky.
Rumble—
A tremor shook the ocean.
Waves surged violently, causing the ship to rock uncontrollably.
"Everyone, stay alert!"
Caught off guard by the sudden jolt, Rega nearly lost his balance and hurriedly warned the mercenaries near the deck's edge.
The ship's violent sway left the mercenaries with no time to react—more than a dozen of them were thrown overboard.
The stonefolk in the water wouldn't waste such an opportunity. Like mad beasts, they pounced on the fallen sailors.
Clenching his fists, Rega gritted his teeth. "Damn it!"
He lifted his head and saw a dazzling crimson glow piercing the sky before bursting like fireworks.
"A volcanic eruption… beneath the sea."
Rega murmured, his eyes fixed on the lava spilling into the ocean, sending thick smoke billowing into the sky.
Judging by the distance, the underwater volcano wasn't far from the ruins of the stone bridge—the fiery glow was clearly visible.
"Helmsman, turn the rudder! Get us out of here!"
The volcano's danger was spreading rapidly, and Rega dared not delay.
Within just a few breaths—
Acrid smoke drifted closer, the ocean's temperature rising as lava boiled the water, making every breath feel searingly hot.
And yet, at this crucial moment, the stonefolk continued their assault, diving into the sea and climbing onto the ship.
The mercenaries struggled to keep their footing on the unstable deck. Their arrows lost precision, giving the stonefolk openings to strike.
Hiss… crackle…
Restless and uneasy, the Devourer flapped its wings furiously, conjuring gales as it spewed dragonfire wildly at the stonefolk in the water.
Before long, some of the creatures managed to board, launching suicidal attacks against the mercenaries.
"Stay calm! Fight with me and drive them back!"
Sensing the danger, Rega drew his dragon-claw sword and decapitated a stonefolk with a single slash.
Chaos erupted on the deck.
Blub, blub…
The sea began to boil, bubbling with scalding steam.
Suddenly, a massive shadow surfaced from the churning waves, closing in on the slowly retreating ship.
Amid the mist, twisting tentacle-like appendages reached outward like grasping vines.
On the deck, Rega skewered a stonefolk through the chest with his sword and kicked its body back into the sea.
Just as he was about to engage another, a sudden chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.
"Something's wrong!" Rega's heart pounded as he instinctively searched for the source of danger.
The Misty Sea was a treacherous place, rumored to be home to all manner of monsters and demons—extreme caution was essential.
Splash—
Without warning, a thick, deep-red tentacle shot out from the water, lashing at him like a whip from behind.
Hiss… crackle…
The Devourer roared in fury, unleashing a torrent of dragonfire.
Man and beast shared a bond of instinct—Rega instantly understood its warning. He twisted his body, stepping back with his left foot and raising his sword defensively.
The massive tentacle, as thick as a barrel, whipped downward with terrifying force, threatening to cleave its prey in two.
Boom!
With a dull thud, Rega barely managed to block the strike with his sword, but the impact sent him flying. He crashed heavily against the solid wooden cabin door.
The very next second—
The Devourer dived down, releasing a flood of dragonfire that scorched the sea's surface and the massive appendage.
Under the eerie green flames, the ocean trembled, revealing an enormous shadow beneath the waves.
A long, sinuous body, lined with razor-sharp tendrils, emerged—its tentacles as thick as barrels, writhing like those of a monstrous octopus.
It latched onto the swaying ship.
"A sea monster! It's the legendary sea monster!"
Huddled in a corner, Robert screamed in terror.
His eyes were locked onto the monstrous creature in the water—its size rivaling that of a house, its tentacles stretching dozens of meters.
This was no ordinary beast.
It was a deep-sea leviathan—a colossal squid, feared by sailors and known as the Sea Monster.
The Greyjoy family of the Iron Islands bore its golden likeness on their sigil.
Cough, cough…
A harsh fit of coughing broke the tension, followed by the sound of retching.
Rega's eyes were unfocused as he lay sprawled in the wreckage of the shattered cabin door, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
At that moment, his entire body was covered in a layer of azure scales—almost as if a true dragon had possessed him.
"So much pain!"
Rega let out a pained groan, struggling to rise, but his body convulsed uncontrollably.
After great effort, he finally managed to turn onto his side.
Glancing down, his breath caught in his throat.
His right shoulder, collarbone, left chest, and side—
The azure scales, once formed by ancient bronze runes, were now shattered across a large area. Their glow had dimmed significantly, a clear sign of severe injury.
Chapter 287: Blazing Crimson Heart
"Hiss! That was close—I almost got torn apart."
Rega winced in pain as he took a sharp breath, his entire body aching.
The thick, tentacle-like appendage had lashed against him. If not for his dragon claw shielding his head and the bronze rune protecting his body, he might have been reduced to minced flesh in an instant.
Feeling a deep sense of relief, Rega shakily climbed to his feet, instinctively reaching for his waist. His voice was strained as he muttered, "Where's my dragon claw?"
Scanning his surroundings, he only saw shattered wooden debris.
Rega's face darkened. He recalled, "Damn it, I think it got knocked away."
Just before the tentacle struck, he had used the dragon claw to block.
Under the overwhelming force, his grip had torn open, the weapon slipping from his grasp and vanishing into the chaos.
"Cough, damn sea monster…"
Rega coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood, his teeth clenched as he pulled out his heavy sword, Light Howl, from his back.
Last night, he had been too groggy when he slept, leaving Light Howl discarded on the floor, halting his exploration progress.
As a result, the sword had remained strapped to his back.
"Skreeee!"
The Devourer roared furiously, its pitch-black wings stretching like a shroud of night. Ghostly green dragon flames spewed forth in torrents, as if without limit.
The sea monster clung to the ship, its deep crimson hide enduring the dragonfire, sizzling and crackling as it charred.
Splash, splash…
Writhing in agony, the sea monster thrashed its tentacles wildly, shaking the ship from side to side.
Strangely, the creature seemed to have an exceptional resistance to the scorching flames.
Its burning flesh did not turn to ash; instead, it blackened and crisped, releasing a rich, mouthwatering aroma.
"Heh, that smell is making me hungry."
Rega let out a pained laugh, stumbling into a corner to take cover.
His right hand flickered with dark energy, tendrils of black smoke condensing into a tiny, eyeless, noseless black serpent. It coiled around his neck, greedily consuming the smoke.
Rega struggled to breathe, his body wracked with pain.
There was no doubt—he was injured. And not just any injury—internal damage.
His azure scales had absorbed the brunt of the impact, but the sheer force of the collision had left his bones and organs battered.
"Little one, hurry up," Rega murmured, covering his mouth as he coughed, his gaze fixed on the black serpent.
Thankfully, he possessed the Ouroboros Rune—otherwise, these injuries would have been a real problem.
Meanwhile…
The sea monster finally succumbed to the dragonfire, its body writhing as it retreated beneath the waves.
Yet its tentacles still lashed out wildly, wreaking havoc on the deck.
Wherever they struck, devastation followed.
The stone men and mercenaries, mere flesh and blood, stood no chance. A single blow turned them into shredded remains, their blood splattering into the ocean—only fueling the monster's bloodlust.
Minutes passed.
"Devourer, pull it out of the water!"
Rega rushed out from his hiding spot, his sharp gaze locked onto the roiling sea.
His face remained pale, but he had stopped coughing. Some strength had returned to his limbs.
The Ouroboros Rune truly lived up to its reputation as a high-level rune.
Once again, he had to appreciate the value of mastering multiple skills.
"Skreeee!"
Though still consumed by rage, the Devourer managed to regain some composure, following its master's command.
Its massive body descended, its wings stretching wide, casting the sea into darkness like the arrival of nightfall.
Gliding downward, it thrust its claws into the ocean, seizing the lurking crimson beast.
The sea monster thrashed in panic, its tentacles coiling frantically around the dragon's talons. Its gaping maw, lined with countless fangs, opened in a silent shriek.
Rumble!
At that moment, a distant underwater volcano erupted once more, sending fiery plumes skyward.
The Devourer's green pupils flickered with cruel delight.
With a powerful beat of its wings, it lifted the sea monster into the air.
Though the beast's body was as massive as its own head, its long, thick tentacles gave it an intimidating presence.
With all its strength, the Devourer hoisted the monster like a helpless chick and began to rip it apart midair.
Rip!
The sickening sound of tearing flesh echoed.
The sea monster's torso was split in two, its tentacles snapping under the immense force.
"Skreeee!"
Satisfied, the Devourer let out a triumphant roar.
A burst of dragonfire engulfed its legs, incinerating the monster's remains that still clung to its talons.
Driven to the brink, the sea monster went berserk.
A sinister glow spread across its deep crimson body. With its final strength, it latched its fanged maw onto one of the dragon's claws.
The Devourer thrashed its leg violently, climbing higher and higher into the sky.
With a casual flick of its tongue, it unleashed another blast of dragonfire, sending the desperate creature plummeting.
Back on the Ship
Rega stood on the deck, watching the volcanic eruption in the distance.
The surrounding temperature was rising rapidly.
He swung his sword, cutting down a charging stone man before making his way to the deck's edge.
Looking down, he saw the sea churning like boiling water.
"The underwater volcano is too close. If we don't leave now, we're in serious trouble," Rega muttered, his heart pounding.
A volcanic eruption was no joke.
The ash cloud alone could spread for hundreds of miles in no time.
And their ship? It was barely a dozen miles away.
If luck turned against them, even molten rock could come raining down on their heads.
Splash!
The sea monster's mangled body crashed into the ocean, sending monstrous waves surging skyward.
Rega's eyes widened.
Without hesitation, he spun around and hit the deck.
A split second later, the massive wave slammed into the swaying ship, sweeping the battling stone men and mercenaries into the sea.
There wasn't even time for them to scream—the sheer force knocked them unconscious.
And with the water boiling like a cauldron, any ordinary human who touched it was as good as dead.
Rega clung to the railing, soaked to the bone but otherwise unharmed.
The boiling water didn't concern him.
His intact bronze rune had absorbed the impact.
Thud.
Just as he was getting up, a limp, deep crimson tentacle slithered out of the ocean, latching onto the deck.
Rega looked up and saw the remains of the sea monster, half of its body—still retaining its mouthparts—draped over the sailboat. Its last remaining tentacle writhed incessantly.
"What a fateful encounter!"
Rega's face was icy cold as he gripped Light Howl and strode forward.
The sea monster was too close to the sailboat to be attacked with dragonfire—swords would have to suffice.
Activating his fire sorcerer talent, flames surged around him. The broad blade of Light Howl roared like a lion in the flickering firelight.
With just a few swift steps, he reached the monster's tentacle. A cold smirk played at the corner of his lips as he swung Light Howl in a powerful arc.
Slash!
The blade sliced through the thick tentacle as easily as cutting through a water barrel, severing it in half. A spray of putrid, blue blood splattered across the deck.
Rega swiftly stepped back, dodging the flailing tentacle, then used it as a foothold to climb onto the sea monster's half-limp corpse sprawled across the deck.
"Even a sea monster is no match for a true dragon!"
With a low growl, Rega raised Light Howl, nearly as tall as a man, and plunged the blade downward.
Another jet of foul-smelling blood erupted as Light Howl pierced deep into the sea monster's mouthparts, churning up its soft inner flesh.
When he tried to pull the sword free, the monster's fangs clamped down tightly, refusing to let go.
Rega immediately released his grip and, with a flick of his right hand, summoned a three-meter-long spear from thin air.
The spearhead, over a foot in length, was forged from Valyrian steel, gleaming with a menacing chill.
This was a weapon cast from the same forge as Dragon Claw—its name: Dawnlight.
"You dare ambush me? Die!"
Ignoring the writhing remains beneath his feet, Rega gripped the spear with both hands and drove it straight down. The weapon sank smoothly into the monster's mouthparts, burying itself to the hilt.
If he recalled correctly, the legends from the Iron Islands spoke of a sea monster's weakness—its mouthparts.
Connected to both its respiratory system and central nerves, any severe damage there would cause an immediate collapse.
After suffering consecutive devastating blows, the sea monster convulsed wildly, dark water seeping from its deep crimson skin.
But it was futile.
Its struggle lasted only moments before its severed tentacle fell limp, twitching unconsciously.
The massive body deflated as if the life had been drained from it, and blue blood oozed from its ruined mouthparts.
"Hah... finally dead."
Rega grinned, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
He wrenched Light Howl and Dawnlight free, but in doing so, he lost his footing and landed with a thud on the slimy corpse of the sea monster.
"Exploration mission activated. Target: Cursed Sea Monster."
The moment his hands touched the creature's skin, a system notification echoed in his ears.
Rega froze for a moment before summoning his Explorer's Interface.
[Cursed Sea Monster]
Exploration Progress: 0.5%
He ran a hand over the sticky surface of the monster's body, then let out a wry chuckle. "A legendary magical creature, huh?"
But something felt off.
The mission target wasn't just a "sea monster"—it was a cursed sea monster.
The key lay in the word "cursed."
Puzzled, Rega suddenly noticed the black liquid oozing from the monster's skin.
Rising to his feet, he nudged the dark fluid with the tip of his spear and was struck by a familiar image in his mind. His eyes widened in shock.
"Shadowbinder's curse?!"
In an instant, Dawnlight erupted in flames, igniting the black liquid. It crackled and hissed as it burned away.
Within mere moments, the cursed substance had been reduced to nothing, the flames even consuming the sea monster's remaining blood.
"What a nuisance."
Rega sighed, then muttered, "That should take care of it."
With the sea monster dead and the black liquid incinerated, there was no longer a vessel for the curse to persist.
"Move! Push them overboard!"
"Kill—!"
Snapping back to reality, Rega heard the sounds of fierce battle around him.
On the deck, the surviving mercenaries were working together to shove the last few Stone Men into the sea.
The fight against the sea monster had left both sides decimated—few mercenaries or Stone Men remained.
Fortunately, the Stone Men in the water couldn't climb aboard the violently rocking sailboat, giving the mercenaries the upper hand.
Rega glanced around and remained seated atop the sea monster's corpse, too exhausted to move.
The Stone Men were already being thrown overboard—there was no need for him to intervene.
"Get moving! Don't let the ones in the water climb up!"
The deputy captain, his helmet askew from battle, shouted orders at the top of his lungs.
The sailboat had been moving the entire time, albeit slowly.
Now, with the Stone Men and sea monster no longer obstructing them, they finally drifted past the ruined stone bridge and away from the perilous waters.
"Screeeech—!"
Above, Devourer hovered in the air, raining down bursts of dragonfire on the Stone Men still attempting to pursue them.
BOOM!
Deep below, the undersea volcano continued to erupt, spewing lava into the sky. A dense cloud of volcanic ash billowed outward, carrying with it streaks of molten rock.
A glob of lava, the size of a pot lid, was flung high into the air before crashing onto the southern shore of the ruined bridge with a wet splat.
Rega's expression shifted as he mentally called out to Devourer, preparing to flee at a moment's notice.
No wonder the Smoking Sea was considered deadly—even the underwater volcanoes were a formidable threat.
Luckily, only a single glob of lava had made it this far, sparing them from a fiery demise.
However, the thick, black volcanic ash had already begun to spread, rapidly closing in on the sailboat.
The ash carried immense heat and countless mineral particles, forming a dense, suffocating cloud.
Above, Devourer bore the brunt of it, squinting its eyes against the stinging soot and letting out a series of irritated growls.
"Cough, cough...!"
As the volcanic ash engulfed the sailboat, Rega choked on the fumes, quickly covering his nose and mouth.
Even disregarding the heat, the ash was as dense as furnace soot, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
The mercenaries, already panting heavily from battle, suffered even worse—many of them groaned in agony, struggling for air.
"This is bad."
Rega's face was covered in ash, his eyes red from irritation.
Buzz—
Just then, his spatial bracelet trembled slightly, emitting a faint red glow.
A thought struck him—he had a treasure that might help.
He reached into the bracelet and retrieved a delicate silver necklace.
The pendant was nothing special, except for the large, octagonal crimson gemstone the size of a baby's fist.
"Flameheart!"
Rega's breath caught as he stared at it.
Back when he had burned the Mountain Clan to the ground, the Red Robed Priestess, who had wielded the Flameheart, had been completely immune to dragonfire.
As a sacred relic of R'hllor's temple, it must possess extraordinary powers.
Chapter 288: The Wild Dragon in the Mist
Buzz—
As if sensing his thoughts, the Flaming Heart radiated a brilliant red glow, enveloping him entirely.
Before Rega could react, the aura rapidly expanded, encasing the entire ship like a glowing red sphere.
"Screech—"
In the next moment, the Devourer let out a cry, filled with deep confusion.
Rega looked up and saw the Devourer flapping its wings as it burst through the volcanic ash, its green vertical pupils shimmering under the red glow.
Under the protection of the glow, the volcanic ash was repelled, and the intense heat began to subside.
"The Lord of Light has manifested! Let's go!"
Rega shouted, urging the mercenaries to row as fast as they could.
There was no time to hesitate.
He could feel it clearly—the red glow required magic to sustain.
His own magical reserves were limited, and he was already drawing upon the raging fire elements within the Devourer.
"Screech—"
The Devourer lowered its altitude, gliding effortlessly, its wings generating powerful gusts that propelled the sails forward at an incredible speed.
The sky and sea were shrouded in volcanic ash, drowning everything in darkness and chaos.
Trusting his instincts, Rega called out:
"Devourer, guide the way ahead!"
The Devourer, despite being a wild dragon, possessed intelligence surpassing that of most humans.
Upon hearing its rider's command, it relied on its unique draconic senses to lead the ship through the treacherous waters.
With the wind at their backs, the ship moved swiftly.
In less than half an hour, they had traveled over a hundred miles.
At this distance, the effects of the undersea volcano had significantly weakened, and the volcanic ash could no longer reach them.
"Plop—"
As soon as they escaped the scorching ash cloud, the red glow enveloping the ship burst like a fragile bubble.
Rega collapsed onto the corpse of a sea monster, his face pale as he clutched the Flaming Heart, now glowing with a subdued divine light.
After being infused with magic from both man and dragon, the Flaming Heart seemed to have been awakened.
No longer dim as before, it now gleamed with an intense brilliance.
Gazing at the sky, Rega saw the dense mist that was characteristic of the Smoky Sea—gloomy yet eerily tranquil.
"This is a treasure worthy of the Lord of Light's legacy!"
Holding the Flaming Heart, Rega let out a deep breath.
"Screech—"
Suddenly, a deep dragon roar echoed from the distance, long and resonant.
Rega bolted upright, ignoring the aching in his muscles, and turned toward the source of the sound.
He knew the Devourer's roar well—deep and thunderous like a war drum.
But this roar, though loud, lacked the same wild and domineering tone.
"There's another dragon in the Smoky Sea!"
Rega's expression grew serious as he stared into the thick mist behind the ship.
The Devourer was circling ahead, meaning this roar had come from an entirely different dragon.
Eyes locked on the mist, he searched for any signs of movement.
But the fog remained still, unyielding.
"Nothing?" Rega murmured in disappointment but refused to give up.
He needed to confirm whether a dragon truly resided in the Smoky Sea.
"Screech—"
Another roar sounded, but this time, it wasn't from the mist.
It was the Devourer, returning after hearing the unfamiliar cry.
Flapping its wings, the Devourer hovered above the ship, its green eyes locked onto something in the distance.
Whoosh—
Just as Rega was about to abandon his search, the mist in the far-off sky stirred, rippling like disturbed water.
A grayish figure flashed across the sky, disappearing into the fog as quickly as it had appeared.
"There really is a dragon!"
Rega had caught a glimpse of it—a shadowy dragon silhouette.
Though fleeting, he had seen enough.
Judging by its size, the dragon was larger than Sylax but smaller than Korakshu.
Its scales appeared smooth, blending seamlessly with the mist in a silvery-black hue.
Its body was well-proportioned, resembling Dreamfire and Ashen Shadow.
His mind raced.
"A dragon… in the Smoky Sea… and it's still young."
Given the perilous environment of the Smoky Sea, it was highly unlikely that this dragon was tamed by humans.
Which left only one possibility:
It was a wild dragon born in the wild.
Rega turned to glance at the captain's quarters, his eyes flickering with thought.
The green dragon egg they had excavated from the ruins was still stored in his cabin.
Could this wild dragon have hatched from an ancient dragon egg left behind by the royal dragon lineage?
"A wild dragon…"
Rega muttered, exhaling in relief.
As long as it wasn't tamed by humans, he could accept a wild dragon's presence.
Even the Devourer's origins remained uncertain.
Some claimed it hatched on Dragonstone Island.
Others speculated it was a pure wild dragon, unconnected to Dragonstone at all.
But in the end, none of that mattered.
Rega gazed into the swirling mist, his thoughts drifting far away.
—
Ten days later.
Volantis, Port.
A three-masted ship, reeking of the sea, docked at the harbor.
"Screech—"
The resounding roar of a dragon echoed through the port, drawing the attention of sailors and slaves alike. They looked up to see an enormous, jet-black dragon.
The dragon let out a menacing roar, circling the city-state twice in a display of dominance before slowly descending near the Black Walls.
Everyone knew—it was the dragon of the Targaryen Dragon King.
Before long, the massive beast took to the skies once more, its wings beating powerfully as it soared toward the Narrow Sea.
No one knew what had transpired during its brief landing.
And no one dared to ask.
One thing was certain, though—the faith of R'hllor was growing ever more active.
Over the Narrow Sea
The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with drifting white clouds. The salty sea breeze was crisp and refreshing.
Aboard the deck of a large merchant ship, a conversation was taking place.
"Uncle, I didn't expect to see you here waiting for me."
Rhaegar regarded the familiar figure before him, his tone calm.
Daemon held a half-full goblet of red wine in one hand, gazing out over the vast ocean. With an air of indifference, he remarked, "I didn't expect you to have the guts to explore the Smoking Sea."
He then cast a fleeting glance at the rounded satchel hanging from his nephew's waist and, without betraying any emotion, added, "Looks like you've had quite the haul."
Upon learning of Rhaegar's expedition into the Smoking Sea, Daemon had immediately set sail in an attempt to intercept him.
Not for personal reasons.
But for the sake of their family—his brother and niece.
Rhaegar patted his satchel, making no effort to conceal anything. He replied solemnly, "At least the journey wasn't in vain."
"To be honest, you were reckless."
Daemon took a small sip of his wine, his tone sharp. "Corlys Velaryon and I once attempted to explore the Smoking Sea, but as soon as the dragons neared it, they became restless and uneasy. I had no choice but to turn back."
It was no secret that the Smoking Sea held lost treasures of Valyria.
But not everyone was fortunate enough to claim them.
Hearing this, Rhaegar fell silent.
Daemon was right—the Smoking Sea was indeed perilous.
Unless absolutely necessary, he must never set foot there again.
Noticing his nephew's reluctance to continue the topic, Daemon shifted his gaze to the two girls standing in the corner of the deck. With a hint of amusement in his eyes, he asked, "Are you really planning to bring these two bastards back to King's Landing?"
"I'm not bringing them—you are."
Rhaegar shrugged, his tone helpless. "I'll be flying back on dragonback. You'll be looking after them."
"I thought you had more courage than that," Daemon scoffed.
"No choice," Rhaegar said with a shake of his head before changing the subject. "I heard about the brothel incident."
His piercing gaze locked onto his uncle.
He wasn't particularly upset about the death of Vaeros—a puppet-like bastard son. Dead was dead.
But…
A dangerous glint flashed in Daemon's eyes as he sneered, "She was just a whore."
"She was a Targaryen," Rhaegar replied, frowning but choosing not to push further.
Serenylla perished in the fire—a crime of kinslaying.
Daemon let out a cold laugh, his stance unwavering. "My grandfather always said she wasn't a Targaryen. Just a whore."
He had heard of her existence years ago.
But he never paid her much mind.
Not until his attention turned to Volantis, where he found her to be an unsightly stain.
And with Vaeros taking the stage as a bastard prince, it was a convenient opportunity to erase that stain.
"Perhaps you're right."
Rhaegar shook his head, not inclined to probe any further.
He had only been checking in on his uncle—just as Daemon had unexpectedly shown interest in him.
With that, the conversation fell into silence.
Rhaegar did not hold Daemon accountable for Vaeros's death.
He had never expected a bastard to wield any real power—Vaeros had only ever been a token figure.
At the same time, he mentally removed the old noble families and Tesario from his considerations.
The elite of the Free Cities all shared one common trait—they were not to be trusted.
Foreign powers would always remain outside the grasp of the Iron Throne. They could serve as tools in public, but greed and unchecked ambition were unacceptable.
His focus needed to be on Westeros.
Daemon found a wooden crate to sit on, drinking deeply as he gazed up at the sky.
The brief moment of peace—he had no desire to break it.
King's Landing, the Red Keep
In the council chamber, a meeting of the Small Council was underway.
Viserys sat slumped, swirling a goblet of wine in his hand.
Compared to a month ago, he looked significantly better—his demeanor more composed, his lips once again carrying a faint smile.
Seated around the table were the members of his council:
Hand of the King, Lyonel;
Master of Laws, Otto;
Grand Maester, Mellos;
Master of Coin, Lyman;
Master of Laws, Jasper…
The seat of the Master of Ships remained vacant, the position still unfilled.
"Gentlemen, you're all aware of the situation in the Stormlands. Let's hear your thoughts."
Viserys raised an eyebrow, as he always did, addressing his assembled councilors.
The lords exchanged glances, occasionally shifting their eyes toward the king's side.
Viserys noticed but feigned ignorance, keeping a smile on his face.
To his right, Alicent sat with perfect posture in an elegant green gown, silently refilling his wine.
To his left, Rhaenyra wore an off-shoulder black dress, absentmindedly toying with a black-and-green dragon-embossed stone orb.
It was her brother's heirloom—his symbol as the heir to the throne.
No one spoke. The room was momentarily engulfed in silence.
Viserys glanced at both sides, opening his mouth as if to dismiss his wife and daughter.
Previously, during his illness, Alicent had overseen many council meetings, tending to his affairs with diligence.
Rhaenyra, as the Princess of Dragonstone, had reason to attend in Rhaegar's absence.
After some thought, Viserys ultimately said nothing, tacitly allowing them to stay.
Seeing this, the councilors—though resigned—had no choice but to accept it.
After all, neither the Queen nor the Princess had openly opposed one another, nor would their presence hinder the proceedings.
Lyonel stood, breaking the awkward silence. Clearing his throat, he said, "Your Grace, the construction of the prince's residence has been costly. Most of the materials came from the Reach and the Stormlands."
"Recently, coastal storms have struck the Stormlands, affecting several noble families that provided timber and stone. They are requesting an advance payment from the royal treasury to cover their losses."
Viserys took a sip of wine, chuckling. "But the families supplying materials aren't even from the coastal regions, are they?"
When expenses arose in a certain area, the crown would temporarily requisition resources from local nobles, reimbursing them later.
These noble families hadn't even provided much material yet, yet they were already asking for payment?
Absolutely ridiculous.
Faced with the king's pointed question, Lyonel hesitated, unsure how to respond.
He, too, sensed something amiss—but saying so outright was another matter.
Chapter 289: The Conflict Between Hightower and His Daughter (New Arc)
"Your Majesty, I do not approve of this matter."
As Lyonel hesitated, Lyman Beesbury, seated near the door, raised his hand in objection.
The elderly lord from Honeyholt furrowed his brows and spoke in a slow, deliberate manner: "Since the founding of the kingdom, there has never been a precedent for withdrawing funds from the royal treasury in advance. This does not align with proper regulations."
Though past his prime, his political acumen remained sharp.
Above all, he prioritized the dignity of the court.
Hearing advice that aligned with his thoughts, Viserys's eyes gleamed with approval. "Lord Lyman makes a valid point."
Lyonel hesitated for a moment before responding, "But if we do not draw from the treasury in advance, the construction of the prince's palace will be delayed."
He retrieved a raven-sent letter from his robes and placed it on the table.
The message was clear—several noble families had suffered losses and were struggling to supply building materials.
The words carried undertones of avoidance and pleading.
Viserys frowned in displeasure. "Can't we shift the burden to other noble houses?"
"Uh…"
Lyonel found himself momentarily speechless.
Otto, who had remained silent, subtly reminded him, "Your Majesty, even noble families in the interior have suffered disasters. As for those along the coast, I fear…"
His implication was obvious.
This was no mere misfortune but a deliberate obstruction—an issue that could not simply be solved by redistributing the responsibility among different noble houses.
Viserys was no fool. He could sense the vassals of the Stormlands challenging the court's authority.
Inwardly, he mused, "A provocation."
Rather than making a hasty decision, he surveyed the gathered ministers, probing, "Given the situation, how do you propose the court should respond?"
Though he had his own thoughts, he wanted to hear their opinions.
"Your Majesty, the Stormlands did indeed suffer a natural disaster recently. Perhaps a thorough investigation is warranted."
Before Lyonel or Otto could speak, the Master of Laws, Jasper, quickly interjected.
Jasper had thick black curls, a well-groomed beard, and a stern, square face.
Lyonel, however, was unconvinced and questioned, "An investigation would take time and resources. The court should issue a direct decree and hold them accountable."
This was a matter of the court's dignity—if an investigation led nowhere, it would be meaningless.
Jasper clasped his hands together and smiled faintly. "The nobles of the Stormlands have always been loyal to the court. We could entrust Duke Borros with handling the matter."
"Duke Borros has only recently assumed his position. He may not be capable of managing such an issue." Lyonel's expression darkened, his words full of resistance.
The disruption in the Stormlands was largely the fault of House Baratheon.
Having Borros investigate would be like letting the fox guard the henhouse.
Jasper's face stiffened, though he quickly masked his displeasure. "Lord Lyonel, each region has its difficulties. Ruling solely by force is not the way to win hearts."
Hearing this, Lyonel's expression shifted slightly, irritation flaring within him.
Jasper's full name was Jasper Wylde.
House Wylde's seat was Rain House, located at Cape Wrath in the Stormlands, sworn to House Baratheon.
Lyonel's sense of duty and honor prevented him from backing down. Gritting his teeth, he retorted, "Lord Jasper, I have reason to suspect you are acting out of personal interest, merely defending your own liege lord."
At this, the council chamber fell silent.
Meros and Lyman both looked up, surprised by Lyonel's unexpected decisiveness.
They had never imagined that the usually amicable Hand of the King could be so firm and resolute.
Otto remained calm, as was his habit, observing in silence.
Bang!
Jasper slammed his hand on the table, his face flushed with anger. "Lord Lyonel, we both serve on the Small Council. Your accusation is not only an insult to me but to yourself as well."
Lyonel kept his stern expression, unmoved.
He was about to retort when someone else spoke first.
Clang!
A stone sphere dropped into a slot, rolling into place with a crisp sound that drew everyone's attention.
Rhaenyra, who had remained silent until now, slowly rose, smoothing the folds of her gown. Her bright eyes were cold. "Lord Jasper, any fool can see that the Stormland nobles are deliberately stalling. Do we really need an investigation?"
"There may be more to this than meets the eye," Jasper insisted, though he was visibly uneasy under her gaze.
Duke Borros had recently sent him a letter, explicitly stating that he lacked firm control over his vassals and hoped Jasper could advocate for him in the royal court.
As a token of goodwill, Borros had even promised to marry off one of his daughters to Jasper's son, sealing an alliance between their houses.
"Lord Jasper, your reasoning is weak."
Rhaenyra's arched brows knitted together, her beautiful face tinged with anger. "This is a blatant test of the court's limits. A stern warning is necessary."
Delaying the construction of the prince's palace was an open challenge to the royal family's authority.
With Rhaegar absent from King's Landing, she had to take a stand.
Jasper struggled for words, only managing after a long pause: "Even so, this matter is not directly tied to Duke Borros."
"Hmph, you're being naïve."
Rhaenyra's expression remained cold as she enunciated each word, "At Lord Beaumont's funeral, Aegon and Daemon caused a disturbance, angering Duke Borros. This incident is known throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
Unlike the other council members who chose their words carefully, she stated the truth outright.
With that thin veil of pretense torn away, the issue suddenly became clear.
Jasper had no rebuttal and sat down, seething in frustration.
Lyonel seized the moment and stated solemnly, "At its core, this issue stems from Duke Borros. His grievances against the royal family run deep."
This was what he had wanted to say from the beginning, and now, he could finally voice it.
"The Matter of Borros—Why Not Summon Him to King's Landing and Have His Majesty Rebuke Him in Person?"
Lyman was the first to propose this suggestion, presenting a logical and well-reasoned argument.
The issue involving a ducal lord made Viserys deeply troubled—he had no desire to offend such a powerful figure.
Glancing at his indignant daughter beside him, he tried to soothe her. "Rhaenyra, sit down first and listen to what the council has to say."
Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, placed her hands gently on her abdomen, and sat down calmly.
After all, she could not fully replace Rhaegar; it was already difficult enough for her to open up this discussion.
The councilors noticed the king's indecisiveness and were reluctant to escalate the matter into outright conflict.
After a brief hushed discussion, Otto knocked on the table and said in a deep voice, "Your Majesty, the issue stems from the tension between House Targaryen and House Baratheon. Perhaps we should address it from this angle."
"What do you suggest?" Viserys asked, intrigued.
He had great confidence in Otto's wisdom.
Otto remained composed, glanced briefly at Alicent, and smiled. "Prince Aegon is yet to be betrothed. I hear Lord Borros has four daughters—both houses could be bound once more through marriage, ensuring continued harmony between them."
It was an age-old solution, yet still the most common one on the continent.
Viserys' eyes lit up as he seriously considered the idea.
Securing House Baratheon's allegiance through marriage was far more beneficial than provoking conflict.
The other councilors fell into contemplation upon hearing the proposal, each with differing opinions.
Lord Lyonel's beard quivered slightly—he felt uneasy about it.
He was a staunch supporter of the heir to the throne.
A royal prince marrying into a powerful noble house was one thing, but aligning with the ever-ambitious Baratheons might lead to complications.
After some thought, he chose not to voice his opposition.
Royal marriages should not be dictated by the king's council.
Just as it seemed the king would accept the proposal, an unexpected voice rose in dissent.
Alicent furrowed her brows and cast an unhappy glance at her father, Otto. Taking a deep breath, she declared, "His Majesty and I have already discussed this—Aegon is to marry Helaena. He will not wed an outsider."
"The council was not informed of this decision," Otto replied with an indifferent expression, unconcerned. "Besides, there is no harm in Aegon marrying a Baratheon daughter—it would be a great boon in securing the Stormlands' loyalty."
"I am the mother of these children, and I do not agree," Alicent refuted firmly. She then turned to her husband, her voice earnest. "Viserys, you know Helaena's condition—she is not suited to be sent away in marriage."
As a mother, she was unwilling to see either of her children subjected to a political union.
Especially Helaena, whose eccentric behavior made Alicent all the more determined to keep her daughter close.
Viserys hesitated, troubled, and spoke softly. "Alicent, I do not believe there is anything wrong with Helaena. Right now, we are discussing Aegon's marriage."
He and Alicent had indeed spoken privately about their children's marriages.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra's betrothal had already been decided, leaving Alicent to focus on Aegon and Helaena.
Viserys agreed that preserving family traditions through marriage was advantageous—it maintained blood purity and strengthened the house.
But when compared to forging an alliance with a powerful noble, such traditions could be set aside.
At the end of the day, he had more than one son, and Helaena had more than one brother.
Alicent had had enough of her husband's vague responses. Gritting her teeth, she snapped, "Regardless, I will not agree. My children's marriages will be decided by me."
Her gaze shifted toward her father, Otto, who sat across the round table.
She clenched her jaw, tempted to issue a warning, yet unwilling to openly challenge him.
After a moment's thought, she found an excuse. "It was Aegon and Daemon who disrupted the funeral. Rhaegar was present as well—why not wait for his return so he can be part of the discussion?"
In her mind, Rhaegar would certainly oppose Aegon's marriage to a Baratheon.
That way, she could rightfully keep both her children within the family.
Hearing Rhaegar's name, Viserys paused for a moment before asking, "Rhaegar has been away for some time. Have we received word of when he will return?"
"It has been nearly a month. He should be back soon," Rhaenyra quickly responded.
Viserys scanned the room, his gaze lingering on both his wife and Otto before he finally decided, "In that case, we will wait for Rhaegar's return before making a decision."
The debate over the marriage remained unresolved, and the current meeting was not the best place to settle it.
Since Rhaegar would be back soon, they might as well wait for his input.
"I'll go check on the children—I'll take my leave now."
Having achieved her goal, Alicent left in a hurry, though her heart remained uneasy.
Rhaenyra thought for a moment before picking up the stone sphere from the council chamber's urn. She spoke with determination, "Borros has shown disrespect toward the crown. We should wait for Rhaegar to return so we can decide on an appropriate course of action."
She cared little for who married whom and instead repeatedly emphasized House Baratheon's transgressions.
With that, the council meeting concluded.
The councilors rose one after another, bowed, and departed.
Rhaenyra walked alongside her father as he returned to his chambers before heading toward her own quarters.
"Princess."
After just a few steps, the deep voice of Grand Maester Mellos called from behind.
Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat. She turned back and asked, "Do you have news of Rhaegar?"
"A letter from Volantis, sealed with the three-headed red dragon."
Mellos lowered his head and retrieved an envelope from his robes, the shine of his bald head reflecting the candlelight.
Chapter 290: Alicent Teaches Her Son
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
King's Landing.
The remnants of early spring snow had melted completely. Muckrakers drove their sluggish horses, hauling dung carts as they cleaned the public latrines in the city's streets and alleys.
Even the foul and filthy Flea Bottom no longer reeked as it once did.
Crowds gathered near Silk Street, freely spending gold in pursuit of pleasure.
"Screeeech—"
Suddenly, a deep, thunderous dragon roar echoed through the sky. A massive, pitch-black silhouette soared from Blackwater Bay, casting its shadow over King's Landing.
The dragon, as dark as charcoal, had piercing green slit pupils. Its wings stretched wide, blotting out the sky like an ominous deity.
In an almost provocative display, it circled the city before gliding toward Rhaenys' Hill, descending into the Dragonpit.
Inside the Dragonpit
The great beast, known as Devourer, lowered its spine and folded its massive wings, settling down in the Dragonpit's hall to rest, eyes closed in feigned slumber.
"Good boy, rest well."
Rhaegar stood before the fearsome dragon's head, his hand brushing against its black scales.
"Prince, you've finally returned."
Maester Menas of the Dragonpit approached, his face lighting up with joy. Though gaunt, his complexion was fair. He walked with a limp, his steps uneven.
At his side, Syrio Forel smirked, his curly hair bouncing slightly as he strode forward.
Rhaegar's lips curved into a faint smile. He nodded to Menas and offered a simple, "Thank you for your efforts," before shifting his gaze to Syrio.
The Braavosi Water Dancer was dressed in a loose black robe, a slender sword hanging from his waist.
"Are you ready?" Rhaegar tilted his head slightly.
Before returning to King's Landing, he had sent two letters ahead, arranging certain matters.
Syrio lifted a hand in salute, his smile brimming with confidence. "The ship is docked and ready to set sail at any moment."
"Good." Rhaegar nodded. He reminded him, "You can take refuge at the Temple of R'hllor and gather as much intelligence as possible."
"As you wish."
Syrio pulled up his hood and disappeared into the shadows of the Dragonpit.
Rhaegar shook his head slightly, exchanged a few more words with Menas, then boarded a carriage back to the Red Keep.
Syrio was meant to be his hidden hand in Volantis.
Even if he could not control the Free City, he would at least ensure a steady flow of intelligence—laying the groundwork for the future.
The Red Keep Gates
"Welcome, Rhaegar Targaryen… heir to the Iron Throne…"
The proclamation of the Kingsguard rang out as the carriage rolled into the Red Keep's courtyard.
Rhaegar lifted the curtain and stepped out.
"Rhaegar!"
A voice filled with longing called out. Standing at the entrance, Rhaenyra's face lit up with joy as she ran toward him.
At the sound of her voice, Rhaegar turned, his eyes brightening.
Today, Rhaenyra looked radiant. Her silver hair was braided into an elegant updo, her demeanor graceful yet commanding.
Her violet eyes sparkled with delight, her fair cheeks dimpled with a smile, and her lips were a striking shade of red.
As she ran, the deep purple velvet of her gown swayed gently. She wore dainty deerskin boots over long black stockings, concealing her slender legs.
Just as Rhaegar stepped out of the carriage, Rhaenyra flung herself into his arms, her hands anxiously patting him down as she asked with concern, "You're finally back! Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. But I missed you."
Seeing Rhaenyra's unfiltered joy, Rhaegar couldn't help but smile. His large hand wrapped around her soft waist, and he lowered his head to bury his face in the crook of her neck.
It wasn't just Rhaenyra who had missed him—they had both longed for each other.
Rhaenyra pouted, playfully nudging his head with hers. Feigning grievance, she huffed, "No wonder you didn't take me to Volantis! You went off adventuring in the Smoking Sea all by yourself!"
As she spoke, she cupped Rhaegar's face in her hands, holding it up for inspection.
After nearly a month apart, Rhaegar—still in the midst of growing—had changed ever so slightly.
His pale face was strikingly handsome, the boyish softness now carrying hints of steel.
His long, silver-gold hair cascaded down his back. His violet eyes held a lingering shadow, an emotion not easily dispelled, though his lips curved in a constant, quiet smile.
Feeling the warmth of his cheeks, Rhaegar offered a sheepish apology. "Next time, I'll take you with me wherever I go."
"Absolutely not! I would never dare go near the Smoking Sea."
Rhaenyra lifted her chin defiantly, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Her eyes softened with concern. "I think you've grown taller again."
She stood on tiptoe, barely reaching the corner of his slanted eyes.
Rhaenyra had reached her full height—taller than most women, standing at about 5'4" (162 cm).
Rhaegar, however, was broad-shouldered and well-proportioned. Even tilting his head down, he still stood taller than her, likely surpassing 5'11" (180 cm).
Thanks to his Arryn blood from the Vale, it seemed the Targaryen line would once again produce a formidable warrior.
Rhaegar shook his head and gently freed himself from her grasp, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Hmph, I'll deal with you later."
Rhaenyra snorted but wrapped her arms around him, her hands roaming over his body as if searching for injuries.
After a moment, her left hand paused at his right hip, fingers brushing repeatedly over an empty spot.
Rhaegar's body stiffened. He caught her wandering hand.
"Rhaegar, where is your sword?"
Rhaenyra wasn't thinking of anything else. She pushed him back slightly, her gaze turning serious.
She had been feeling for the familiar hilt of his blade, Dragonclaw—but it was gone.
Since the day the sword was forged, Rhaegar had cherished it, carrying it at all times.
Under Rhaenyra's scrutinizing stare, Rhaegar hesitated before finally admitting, "I left it in the Smoking Sea."
"You did encounter danger!"
Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock, worry flashing across her face as her voice rose in alarm.
"You even lost your sword?!"
She knew it—there was no way Rhaegar's journey to the Smoky Sea would be completely safe.
Anger flared in Rhaenyra's heart. She clenched her teeth and raised her hand, slapping his chest several times.
"It's not lost. Listen to me first," Rhaegar said, grabbing her small hand to stop her outburst and trying to find the right words. "Dragonclaw is temporarily out of my possession. It's being kept by… a new friend."
"A new friend? Where did you get a new friend?" Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief.
Rhaegar hesitated for a moment, then affirmed, "A wild dragon."
Seeing the look of frustration on Rhaenyra's face, as if she had just been deceived, he quickly explained.
Dragonclaw had been knocked away during a battle with a sea monster and was lost without a trace.
At first, he assumed it had sunk near the ruins of the Stone Bridge and planned to hire people to retrieve it later.
However, the mysterious scroll in his spatial bracelet suddenly glowed, revealing the exact location of Dragonclaw.
It was within a dozen miles of his ship, moving at high speed.
Gazing into the thick fog, where visibility was nearly zero, Rhaegar realized there was only one explanation—
A wild dragon in the mist had picked up Dragonclaw and had been following the ship, drawn to it.
This continued until the ship left the Smoky Sea.
Most likely, the wild dragon had never left the Smoky Sea before and didn't dare to stray too far.
After recounting the whole story, Rhaegar sighed helplessly. "Dragons like shiny things. It probably took Dragonclaw as part of its hoard."
Even if he wanted to retrieve it, he had no idea where to start.
Rhaenyra listened carefully, her mouth slightly agape in astonishment. "There are actually wild dragons in the Smoky Sea?"
Her love for dragons was no less than Rhaegar's, and the existence of a wild dragon was no small matter.
"That's right." Rhaegar nodded, then smiled. "Fortunately, I found a replacement. I didn't walk away empty-handed."
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Let's head back to the castle first. You need a proper rest."
Who knew how many days it had been since he last cleaned himself? There was a faint, unfamiliar scent on him, and his once-silky hair had become unkempt.
The Queen's Bedchamber
Alicent paced back and forth around the round table, her expression dark.
Sitting on a stool beside the table, Aegon slumped with his head down, looking utterly dejected.
Oddly enough, his silver hair was a tangled mess, and he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of white sleep pants.
Standing nearby, Aemond watched the scene unfold, his face filled with quiet exasperation.
"Green spool, black spool…"
Helena knelt on the floor, her light purple eyes vacant as she absentmindedly played with two tangled spools of thread.
The only sounds in the chamber were Aegon's irritated sighs and her soft murmurs.
Alicent paced two more rounds before abruptly pointing at Aegon, gritting her teeth. "Joanna is my personal maid! How dare you try to seduce her?"
"I didn't! I was just messing around with her," Aegon protested, pouting.
Smack!
Alicent struck him hard across the face, scolding angrily, "The evidence is right in front of me, and you still deny it?"
Aegon was stunned by the slap. He covered his cheek, his humiliation turning into fury. "She was the one sticking her ass out in front of me, so I just gave it a slap!" he shouted.
Smack!
Alicent slapped him again, this time even harder. "Can you grow up for once? All you think about is drinking and whoring! What future do you have?"
"What future do you want me to have?"
Aegon glared at her. "Rhaegar is the heir. What's wrong with me being a prince who enjoys life?"
Alicent's chest rose and fell rapidly with frustration. "Even if you don't fight for the throne, you should at least protect your family! Ensure that none of us are harmed!"
Aegon's face darkened. He pointed at Helena, who was still mumbling to herself. "So your idea of protection is making me marry her, isn't it?"
After the last council meeting, his father, Viserys, and his mother, Alicent, had each spoken to him separately.
His father had asked if he was willing to marry into House Baratheon.
His mother, on the other hand, had insisted he marry Helena to strengthen ties with House Hightower and gain influence in court.
Yet, no one had asked him if he wanted either of those things.
Seeing Aegon's disdainful attitude toward Helena, Alicent felt a deep sense of disappointment. Gritting her teeth, she said, "You should protect her—just like Rhaenyra and Rhaegar protect each other."
"She's just a foolish little girl," Aegon sneered dismissively.
"Then what? You'd rather marry Lord Borros' daughter?"
Alicent's eyes reddened as she sat down on a stool, pressing her fingers against her forehead in frustration.
Seeing his mother upset, Aegon felt a twinge of guilt but only became more irritable. "Who said I wanted to marry those ugly women?" he grumbled.
Lord Borros was a rough and wild man, and his daughters had inherited his features.
Even Aegon, who rarely had high standards, was put off.
Alicent let out a deep sigh, exhaustion washing over her.
She wanted to say more, but as her gaze fell on Helena, she swallowed her words.
The matter of her two children's marriage weighed heavily on her.
Aegon had never liked Helena, not since they were children.
As for Helena, she paid no mind to their argument—she was still busy playing with her spools of thread.
Bringing them together would be a daunting task.
"…Forget it. You all may leave," Alicent said, waving a weary hand.
The council had yet to finalize their plan regarding House Baratheon.
As long as she and Rhaegar prevented the union, Aegon would eventually have to marry Helena.
"Oh. Alright, then. Rest well," Aegon muttered before turning and leaving without another word.
"Sister, let's go."
Aemond snatched the spools from Helena's hands and gently took her by the wrist, leading her away.
As they passed the round table, Alicent suddenly reached out and grabbed Helena's small hand.
In Aemond's envious gaze, Alicent cupped Helena's face and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, saying firmly, "Don't worry. I won't let you be mistreated."
Helena lowered her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers in silence.
(End of Chapter)