Chapter 82: The Dragonpit Tourney
"The Demon Dragon has appeared in Westeros again!"
The news was like a stone heavily dropped into a river, causing enormous ripples. People were no less shocked upon hearing it than if they had heard the Wall in the North had melted or the Titan of Braavos had collapsed.
Had the Demon Dragon, long vanished, truly reappeared?
Some said that the Red Comet signified the hatching of dragons. Others claimed that dragons had begun appearing across Essos. Still others said that near the Dragonpit in King's Landing, streaks of light and fire could be seen, potentially indicating the hatching of a dozen dragons at once. Some speculated that dragons were spontaneously born from Dragonstone, or that Stone Dragons had hatched themselves. In any case, the rumors spread wider and wider.
But the most credible rumor was that someone of House Targaryen had hatched a true dragon, reawakening memories of those Beasts of War.
This was easy to deduce, as the royal family was currently thin in number. Aside from the two young princes still in the care of their nursemaids and the queen attending to the children, there were few left who might hatch a dragon.
King Jaehaerys II Targaryen had been frail since his youth, though his health had improved somewhat in recent years. As for Prince Aerys Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, his loose tongue could not keep a secret. If he had truly hatched a dragon, all of Westeros would already have heard him shouting it from the rooftops. The Prince of Dragonstone was known more as a laughingstock than a dragon reborn.
Thus, only one conclusion remained.
Prince Rhaegar.
Prince Rhaegar was born with exceptional talent and had traveled widely, visiting the Vale, Casterly Rock, and Dragonstone. He had stayed for long periods in places where traces of dragons were said to linger.
Considering the timing, effort, and locations, Rhaegar was the only plausible answer.
Caught in the center of the storm, the royal family chose silence, issuing only a public invitation. The Iron Throne neither confirmed nor denied the hatching of a great dragon.
Instead, the Iron Throne announced that, to celebrate the tenth anniversary of King Jaehaerys II's ascension, the king would host a grand tourney at the Dragonpit, inviting great and lesser lords alike to gather.
The Dragonpit—its very name stirred wild imaginings among the nobility. Their informants reported that the Dragonpit's gates had been reopened and manned once more. Few doubted the implication: this was meant to conceal the dragon's revival. If the Demon Dragon had truly returned, the power of the Dragon Kings would need to be reassessed.
Once the announcement spread, lords great and small flocked to King's Landing. Whether there was a tourney mattered little—missing the Demon Dragon's debut would be an unforgivable loss.
The Dragonpit camp was sealed again, leaving only a few narrow gates open, each heavily guarded. Outsiders were strictly forbidden from approaching.
Prince Rhaegar and his royal escort were stationed there. These were well-equipped elites, hardened by war, unlike the veteran Gold Cloaks of the city.
Prince Rhaegar's fearsome reputation had already spread beyond the capital. The gentle and elegant Silver Prince was also a god of slaughter on the battlefield—the Butcher of Maidenpool. Many wished to witness the spectacle, but none dared approach the Dragonpit itself. Though enormous sums were offered for information about the dragon, false reports flooded the city.
Many wretches from Flea Bottom claimed to have seen the Demon Dragon despite never setting foot near the Dragonpit, each describing it differently.
Rhaegar recruited another three hundred men from the Crownlands, including Rosby and Stokeworth. Ser Lykke showed exceptional enthusiasm, strongly supporting Rhaegar's recruitment. At present, the Eagle Guards numbered seven hundred men.
King's Landing was vast, but its people were slippery and ill-suited to disciplined soldiery. Their social ties were tangled and unreliable. Rhaegar's selection standards for men from the capital were therefore especially strict.
Ideally, Rhaegar wished to establish a rapid-response force of two to three thousand elite soldiers. But training such men required enormous expense. It could not rely solely on the wealth of merchants from Gulltown, nor on the limited spoils taken from the Nettles Cave, which was no lasting solution.
Rhaegar sat within his tent, its upper covering removed to avoid obstructing the flight of the small dragons.
Three young dragons circled overhead, chasing one another in play. Their scales shimmered brilliantly, dazzling to behold.
A purple dragon, a silver dragon, and a black dragon.
In their early years, dragons were swift and lively, like puppies or ponies. They had not yet reached their true majesty—at their peak, they would rival Balerion the Black Dread, vast as a town.
They even breathed fire at one another, each flame unique. The Silver Emperor's fire shimmered silver edged with gold. The black dragon Balerion exhaled dark flames streaked with crimson. The purple dragon Vhagar burned with vivid violet fire.
The young dragons were growing rapidly, the Silver Emperor fastest of all. Balerion and Vhagar followed close behind.
Empowered by the dragon pact, the Blood and Fire Chain, and the Purple Dragon Nest, Rhaegar sensed their unnatural growth.
This also meant they could no longer remain within the Dragon King's Ring. Their aggression and instability were nearing the point where the ring could no longer contain them.
The Demon Dragon rises again—restoring the glory of the Dragon Kings.
The royal escort closest to the tent glimpsed the silhouettes of the three demon dragons overhead. Excitement ran through them, though discipline held firm and none dared speak of it.
They were the soldiers closest to dragons in the present age, and they knew only Prince Rhaegar could ride all three.
To serve a true Dragon Prince meant a future filled with glory.
When the tourney began, the three demon dragons would make their first grand appearance.
Rhaegar turned his gaze once more to the two black iron warhammers before him.
They were the ancestral weapons of House Lykke of Maidenpool, passed down since time immemorial.
Rhaegar lifted them, feeling their unusual weight, examining them carefully.
At first glance, they seemed ordinary iron, yet they were far heavier than steel.
House Lykke was not famed for great warriors. Perhaps these hammers concealed power far beyond appearances. By contrast, House Darklyn had once been known as the Seven Swords, boasting seven white-cloaked knights.
Rhaegar struck his longsword against the hammers repeatedly, to no effect. Not a single mark appeared. He considered using his Valyrian steel blade, but hesitated, unwilling to damage a house heirloom.
Then inspiration struck.
He smashed the two hammers together. A dull, thunderous clang echoed through the tent.
The hammers remained unchanged—until the Silver Emperor suddenly swooped down, breathing dragonfire upon them, as if irritated by the sound.
"You little brat—" Rhaegar began, then froze.
Ancient symbols slowly emerged upon the black warhammers—runes of the First Men, similar to those carved upon the bronze armor of House Royce.
Rhaegar was unafraid of the heat; a young dragon's fire had yet to reach its full intensity.
He traced the simple, ancient runes with his fingers.
"Explorer: Congratulations on discovering a great relic. Your vigorous flame has rediscovered the Warhammer Runes."
The runes flared and gathered before him, forming the image of a hammer.
The Rune of the Shield symbolized defense.
The Rune of the Hammer symbolized strength—the power to crush all things.
The warhammer runes merged into Rhaegar's body, filling him with overwhelming force.
To break all laws with strength alone.
If speed was sufficient, strength overwhelming, and perception keen enough—then invincibility followed.
"Well done, Silver Emperor."
Rhaegar tossed a lamb chop into the air. The Silver Emperor leapt after it with a triumphant cry.
It was fiercely possessive of its food and preferred to eat alone.
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