The Stepstones.
Since Aemon had nothing to do, he ordered someone to bring in a forge to pass the time.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
Sparks flew everywhere, and the sound of forging continued.
Soon, a set of emerald armor engraved with runes was ready.
"Try it on and see if it fits," Aemon said.
Aemon gently wiped his hands with a wet towel without looking back. Looking down, he saw an irregular red crystal as red as blood lying on the chopping board. It had obviously been burned at a high temperature, yet it hadn't changed.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
William's eyes lit up; he couldn't wait to change his armor. Rune armor was the standard gear of the Rune Guard. Each piece was forged by Aemon himself and symbolized the granting of power.
William put on the rune armor, knelt on one knee, and swore an oath.
Aemon accepted it calmly and said with a smile, "Go. Your Guard brothers are waiting for you outside."
"Yes!"
William's eyes were firm as he retreated solemnly. As the first brother of his clan to follow His Majesty, he was overwhelmed with emotion.
After William left, Aemon put away the "Lady of the Void," which had responded to his oath. He turned his head and continued to study the red crystal. It had been found in a pile of ore through the space ring. It was noticed because the red crystal contained fire magic, which triggered the Magic Essence Panel and granted one point of magic essence.
Similar ores were extremely rare. There were relatively more red crystals, about a dozen pieces.
Aemon's eyes flickered as he speculated, "Could this ore be the hard currency of the Dragonlords?"
Ancient Valyria was a slave society. Countless slaves were imprisoned in the dark mines beneath the Fourteen Flames and forced to dig day and night. What were they digging for? There couldn't be gold, silver, copper, or iron beneath the volcano, and obsidian wasn't that valuable. It was likely a special ore, like this red crystal.
"I'm no pyromancer, so I don't know how to craft magical tools. What a pity."
Aemon frowned. He had over a dozen pyromancers imprisoned under his command, all of whom were useless. Thinking of this made him angrier. Magic was simply too advanced.
He picked up the red crystal and compared it to the bronze bell produced by the Bronze Sacred Tree. There was a slight difference. The Bronze Sacred Tree absorbed faith. The tens of thousands of residents of River Valley Town could only produce one bronze bell every one to two years. The materials were scarce; even his seven rune guards didn't have a full set.
Although the red crystal was rare, it was comparable to mithril beans. Well, perhaps not quite as valuable. Judging by the amount of magic essence it produced, however, it was nearly equal to a spiritual plant.
Spiritual ore?
Aemon understood and whispered, "Anything that can be mass-produced isn't worth much."
He waved his right hand and stored it in his space ring. After all, it was spiritual ore. If he could figure out how to use it, he might be able to forge a weapon similar to the "Light of the Kingdom."
Aemon packed up and walked outside.
"Your Majesty, this is a letter from the king."
Koen, who had been guarding the door, handed him a letter just as he stepped out. A raven had delivered it.
Aemon paused in surprise. What did his uncle want now? He opened the letter and suddenly laughed. It warned him to kill fewer pirates from the Triarchy and not to take captives as slaves.
"Your Majesty, should the king's words be obeyed?" Koen asked hesitantly.
"What do you think?" Aemon glanced at Koen and slapped the letter against his breastplate.
He'd been training his dragonriding skills lately, and the pirates from the Triarchy near the Stepstones had suffered heavy losses. Most had already been dealt with. The few who escaped had fled far away.
"Write a reply for me. Tell him I know."
Aemon shook his head and walked off. He had occupied the valley and obeyed orders, but not their announcements. He was stationed on Dragonstone, where he served as regent. After going through the proper motions, he earned his privileges while still nominally remaining a vassal of the Iron Throne.
His uncle was good in every way, but he was too stubborn. He doted on his family, yet he refused to relinquish control.
"I now hold the Vale and the Stepstones. I have the loyalty of Tarth. My power keeps growing."
"And power begets conflict."
As Aemon walked, a phrase surfaced in his mind: "A real man is born beneath heaven and earth—how can he bow and live beneath others for long?"
He smirked and raised his hand to cover his face. This wasn't his adoptive father; it was his uncle.
"If I can take Myr, my reach will extend beyond the Narrow Sea. Only then can I truly break away from the Iron Throne."
Aemon's plans were clear. His family was growing stronger and his lands were growing in number. But whether it was his uncle's patriarchal mindset or the issue of family inheritance... Allowing House Targaryen to follow the Andal custom—the eldest son inherits everything, while the rest receive nothing—was asking for disaster.
His uncle only remembered the harmony and respect of their great-grandfather's generation. However, he forgot the lesson of Maegor's usurpation. He couldn't see why Daemon had grown distant from him. They were all true dragonbloods, dragonriders above the world. Yet, based on birth order alone, some were left with nothing. They had no fief of their own and were trapped in King's Landing under another's control. Their well-being depended on personal relationships. Of course, that led to internal strife.
The previous Targaryen kings never established a system that enabled second sons to survive independently. As soon as the family grew too large—with too many members and dragons—the system would fall apart. Expanding outward and aiming swords at foreign foes was the correct path. That's what he and Sea Snake Daemon had done.
Still, they had to negotiate a new coexistence with the Iron Throne. Otherwise, chaos would come sooner or later.
"I wonder how Laena is doing?"
Aemon thought of the campaign in Tyrosh. The Myrish were hiding. Waiting wouldn't solve anything.
"We need to take the initiative and push them harder."
Aemon activated his brain.
The next day:
A sailboat broke through the Tyrosh blockade and entered the city-state's port.
Aemon wore a red cloak, his long, silver-gold hair falling over his chest beneath the hood. Two rune guards in black cloaks silently escorted him behind him.
"The battle was fierce."
Aemon surveyed the surroundings. Over a dozen warships were moored at the port, all bearing various levels of damage. Sailors and shipwrights were busy with repairs. Beyond that, there were no other ships or people in sight.
Boom!
Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded from above.
"A dragon!"
"That's Vhagar, Lady Laena's dragon!"
The shipwrights didn't panic; they were used to seeing dragons by now. This wasn't a war between the Velaryons and the Iron Throne. The dragons involved were all allies. There was no need to be afraid.
Aemon looked up. A dark green dragon soared thousands of feet above. Even from that distance, its immense size was impressive. Its broad yellow wings had collected more tears. Ancient. Battle-hardened. Overwhelming.
"Hiss—"
Vhagar roared and flew toward the heart of Driftwood City. Seeing this, Aemon quickened his pace.
When he arrived, the attendants came out to greet him.
"Where is Lord Corlys?"
He was told that the Sea Snake was in a meeting and could not leave. Aunt Rhaenys and Laenor were patrolling the sea and guarding the fleet. Laena had just returned and was bathing.
"Leave me be. I'll wait here for a while."
Aemon waved them off. The servants brought wine and cakes, then withdrew respectfully. They still remembered that he was the son-in-law of House Velaryon.
After a while, Aemon summoned the card panel. A white mist swirled in the air. Three illusory cards floated before him.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
He tapped three times. The cards solidified and flipped. Two green cards—nothing special. But the third card, which was blue, caught his attention.
[Fire Peak Atlas]: "Records the various types of mineral veins under the volcano."
Price: 320 Essence
"Perfect timing."
Aemon's eyes lit up. With a flick of his finger, the card turned into a blue light that drifted down to his fingertip and condensed into a thick, delicate book. He caught it smoothly and glanced at his remaining essence.
At the bottom of the panel, beside the golden hourglass, it read: [Essence Quantity: 3,630].
Months of accumulation—very rich indeed.
"Read a book, read a book."
Aemon turned the page and read carefully.
A quarter of an hour later:
Aemon leaned back in his chair, frowning in confusion. After reading more than half of the Fire Peak Atlas, he finally found the record of the red crystal. It is a natural wonder called "fire essence." It contains fire magic and has many uses. A fist-sized piece of fire essence could be exchanged for a small village by the river.
However, it is very difficult to mine. It only exists deep within volcanoes and is often guarded by fire dragon insects. These insects are also called dragon maggots. Many slaves died while mining due to the poisonous fire spewed by the insects.
"If you wash it with blood, the fire ore can be melted."
Aemon couldn't help but smack his lips. Fortunately, he found a way to use it. He closed the atlas, feeling that he was progressing further and further on the road to becoming a blacksmith.
Suddenly, he heard a movement on the stairs behind him. His ears pricked up, and he turned his head when he heard the sound.
"Aemon, you're really here!"
Laena smiled brightly and walked down the stairs in high heels. She wore a long white skirt, and her waist-length, silver-gold, curly hair was wet and scattered. It was obvious that she had just gotten out of the bath.
Corlys had a blank expression on his face as he followed slowly behind her. He seemed reluctant.
"What are you doing here?"
Despite his daughter's gentle concern, Corlys's tone was very stiff. Aemon didn't care. If the old man doesn't like his son-in-law, so be it. Small-minded.
"I'm here to help," Aemon said righteously.
"Would you be so kind?"
Corlys looked at him with disdain, totally unconvinced.
"With one more dragon on the battlefield, my aunt and the others will be relieved of a lot of pressure."
Aemon was telling the truth. Corlys was silent. The two could finally talk calmly. Aemon was telling the truth. The Myrish were too cowardly; they needed to be burned out. He rode Vermithor into battle and joined forces with Aunt Rhaenys and the others to drive out the Tyroshi mercenaries and advance to the Myrish Sea. The Tyroshi mercenaries had no way to retreat and were bound to clash with the Myrish. The two sides started fighting, diverting the war. Both Aemon and the Sea Snake benefited.
After a long silence, Corlys's eyes were deep. "You can give it a try."
Aemon smiled faintly and pulled Laena upstairs to rest. Laena was tired and yawned while listening. The war was imminent, and they needed to rest.
Half a month later...
Boom!
A flaming log was thrown out and hit the opposite warship with great destructive power. The sailor pulled the iron chain and jumped onto the enemy's deck to fight.
"Dragon Flame!"
Laenor, wearing silver-gray armor, shouted excitedly.
"Hiss!"
Seasmoke was as warlike as its rider. It glided low over the seawater, turned its head, and spewed dragon flames across the enemy ships.
"Laenor, don't fight!"
Rhaenys rode Meleys and flew by, shouting a warning. This was the Tyroshi Sea, a key battleground in the fight to expel the Tyroshi mercenaries from the kingdom.
Dozens of miles away, on the blue sea, more than a dozen ships were burning, and black smoke rose into the sky.
"Hiss—"
Vhagar spread her wings and flew over. There was a stone island below.
"Hiss—"
Vermithor slowly climbed out, his bright, bronze vertical pupils looking at the sky as he roared unwillingly.
"Hold steady, Vermithor."
Aemon patted the dragon's back, signaling for him to stay put. With the Velaryon fleet, Vhagar alone could crush the remaining enemies.
"Roar!"
Vermithor shook his head in dissatisfaction. It was as if he were asking, "Why don't you let me go?"
Aemon smiled and rubbed his palm against the dragon's thick scales. He was teaching Laena the fourteen ancient dragonriding techniques. Complete the test to learn the full binding spell. The binding spell is precious, but there is no need to cherish it. Just follow the rules of ancient Valyria."
"It depends on the situation. The good days of the Myrish are coming to an end."
Looking at the fleeing fleet on the sea, Aemon smiled wickedly. The four dragonriders worked together. The Tyroshi mercenaries had nowhere to hide and could only run around like headless flies. As for resistance in large numbers? Don't be silly. The Tyroshi mercenaries and the pirates of the Triarchy were best at hiding and launching sudden attacks. They struck suddenly and vanished afterward. If they had faced direct confrontation, they would have been wiped out long ago.
Aemon observed for a while and called up the card panel. In the white mist, three illusory cards were suspended.
"Occupy the Stepstones and expel the Tyroshi mercenaries."
After accomplishing these two major tasks, it was time to produce some high-quality cards.
Pop, pop, pop.
With a tap of his fingertips, the three cards revealed their true appearance.
[Fireworm Fruit]: "Taking it strengthens fire magic and slightly increases the probability of benign mutation."
[Unmoving Compass]: "Not affected by magnetic fields; always points south."
[Hammer of Seawater]: "The ultimate magic of the Children of the Forest that can move continental plates."
There was one azure, one light blue, and one bright gold that shone like the sun. The prices were: 800, 250, and 10,000.
Aemon's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "Golden Legend!"
He leaned close and stared fiercely at the third card, Hammer of Seawater. This kind of magic, comparable to a meteorite strike, could actually be acquired. Grand Mage Aemon?
"Ah! I can't afford it!"
Aemon howled in grief. It cost ten thousand points of magic essence—more than he could earn by selling the Grey Shadow. The Children of the Forest used the Hammer of Seawater to smash the Arm of Dorne and create the Stepstones. The Neck was also shaken by the hammer, turning forest into swamp. One card destroyed a city.
"It hurts! It hurts too much!"
Aemon clutched his chest. For the first time in his life, he felt powerless because of his poverty. He wasn't rich at all.
He rubbed his face and looked at the first card, Fireworm Fruit.
Pop!
He read the description and instantly exchanged it.
Then, he looked at the second card: Unmoving Compass.
Pop!
Without hesitation, he exchanged it. Even if he couldn't afford the Hammer of Seawater, at least he wouldn't miss a blue card. His Royal Highness was heartbroken, yet he made rational revenge purchases.
At the bottom of the panel, next to the golden hourglass: [Essence Quantity: 2,690].
After half a month, the essence increased slightly. However, after exchanging two cards, it dropped significantly.
The next second, two strands of azure and light blue halos entwined and fell on his left and right hands, respectively. Aemon looked closely. In his left hand was a compass, and in his right was a fiery red fruit. The compass was made of a special metal that was smooth and shiny, and the material was difficult to identify. The fruit was long and twisted like a snake, coiled into a ball. It was fiery red and covered in scaly skin. At first glance, it seemed alive.
"Roar!"
Vermithor's vertical pupils flashed. His thick neck turned, and all the scales on his body tightened.
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