Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 277: Precious Magic Spells

Chapter 277: Precious Magic Spells

After Rhaegar's declaration, tens of thousands of people erupted in applause, their cheers echoing across half of the East Side.

To the commoners and slaves, even a single day of the Dragonlord's rule as Emperor was a monumental event. In this city-state, where Triarchs were elected annually, such an occurrence was unprecedented.

"Before the sun sets today, I will judge all the affairs of Volantis," Rhaegar announced, seizing the moment. "No matter one's status or origin, I will ensure a fair investigation."

The commoners and slaves were ecstatic. In a city-state that prided itself on equality, they often found themselves overlooked and mistreated. The Emperor's promise of impartiality filled them with hope.

Under the gaze of tens of thousands of eager eyes, Rhaegar took a deep breath and pointed his sword at the chained prisoners in the open space.

The red priestess, her eyes glowing with fervor, urged, "Your Grace, these are the culprits who disrupted the peace of Volantis. Please deliver the highest judgment!"

On the open ground, the Elephant Party's Triarch and the officers of the Tiger Cloak Army shook their heads and shouted in fear. Their mouths, stuffed with rags, could only produce muffled whimpers.

Rhaegar surveyed the crowd, his Valyrian steel sword gleaming in the morning light, his voice chilling as he declared, "I sentence you to be consumed by Dragonfire!"

Sensing his master's intent, Cannibal's eyes glowed fiercely. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he shifted his massive body, supported by his wings.

Rhaegar, standing between the dragon's curved horns, his silver hair blowing in the breeze, commanded proudly, "Dracarys!"

The word, spoken in pure High Valyrian, reverberated in the ears of every Valantian present.

Cannibal's nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth, roaring, "Roar!"

The dragon's roar blew the prisoners off their feet, sending them rolling on the ground. Before their screams could be heard, a wave of green Dragonfire engulfed them.

Zira...

The stench of burning flesh and smoke filled the air as the Dragonfire scorched the earth, leaving behind a charred pit with only a few remnants of bone.

...

The trial ended and an unprecedented parade began.

Crowned Emperor, Rhaegar wore his black robes, now adorned with a golden crown, and paraded through the eastern and western districts of Volantis, greeted by an adoring crowd.

Refusing to be carried by slaves, he chose instead to be carried by a large white elephant with magnificent tusks, found for him by the citizens.

Seated on the elephant's broad, red-carpeted back, Rhaegar was flanked by a hundred members of the Fiery Hands.

Above him, Cannibal, the black dragon, soared through the sky, occasionally roaring and releasing bursts of dark green dragonfire that sliced through the sky.

As the white elephant advanced, it frequently stopped to allow many civilians and slaves, including merchants, to approach and air their grievances.

An elderly fisherman spoke of thugs who had stolen his boat, a prostitute spoke of being beaten by her clients, and a merchant complained of a lack of dock space despite paying taxes.

True to his word, Rhaegar addressed each injustice, regardless of the status of the complainant, be it slave or prostitute.

He also received many suggestions, with concerns about safety and sanitation on the West Side being the most common.

Rhaegar had noticed the poor conditions of the West Side on his first day in Volantis.

After much deliberation, he assured the people, "I will formulate a plan to improve the West City District. Even if I step down tomorrow, the new Triarch will ensure its implementation."

"Thank you, Emperor," the citizens replied, kneeling in gratitude.

Who wouldn't want to live in a cleaner, safer environment?

Rhaegar's willingness to accept suggestions and guarantee their implementation showed his wisdom as Emperor of Volantis.

...

Time, always precious, passed quickly.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, its red glow painted the sky. The patrol left the West Side and returned to the mouth of the Rhoyne River near the Long Bridge.

Rhaegar rode the majestic, tusked white elephant, cutting a regal figure against the setting sun. His violet eyes were calm, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

After serving as Emperor for one day, he had cemented his reputation as a wise and brave leader in Volantis, a reputation that would surely reverberate throughout the nine free trade city-states.

Following the white elephant was the red priestess on a white horse. Three others, surrounded by the crowd, accompanied her: the old nobleman who had offered the crown, the fierce young man with the tiger tattoo, and a handsome middle-aged man with Valyrian features.

These three were the triarchs Rhaegar had carefully chosen for Volantis.

The old nobleman represented the noble power and had been instrumental in securing the agreement with Rhaegar. The fierce young man, Tesrio, was a rising star in the Tiger Cloak army, renowned for his exceptional martial prowess. Upon being chosen as a Triarch, he immediately pledged his loyalty to Rhaegar.

The last man, Varos, had a unique background. He was the third illegitimate son of Saera, and his father had been the executed Triarch of the Elephant Party. As a bastard, Varos had received little attention from his father, leading to a strained relationship.

Rhaegar's decision to kill the Elephant Party Triarch and appoint Varos as the new Triarch won the immediate loyalty of the Elephant Party faction, which was eager to stabilize under new leadership.

As the sun set, the three new Triarchs of Volantis officially took office. The old nobleman and Tesrio were from the Tiger Party, while Varos represented the weakened Elephant Party.

This strategy was a calculated move on Rhaegar's part. The Tiger Party, allied with the Targaryens, could generate more value and maintain stronger ties. Once Varos stabilized the remnants of the Elephant Party, the old nobleman and Tesrio could effectively control the situation in Volantis.

In this intricate power play, Rhaegar ensured that he would reap the benefits.

...

The procession moved slowly as the white elephant carried Rhaegar through the bustling port. Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted nearby.

Rhaegar turned to see a group of launchers in disarray on a ship moored in the harbor.

"Capture him quickly, he's infected with grayscale! We can't let him go ashore!" someone shouted.

"Throw him overboard, but be careful not to let him touch anyone!" another voice added.

At the mention of greyscale, Rhaegar's expression hardened. "Let's go see what's happening," he ordered.

"Yes, Your Grace," replied one of the Fiery Hands, leading a group toward the ship.

The red priestess, now presiding over the Temple of R’hllor, saw this as an opportunity to spread the faith of the Lord of Light and supported Rhaegar’s actions.

Not long after, the Fiery Hand returned with the ship's captain, a sailor, and a broken black tablet.

The Fiery Hand explained the situation: the ship was a smuggler's vessel that had encountered a storm and drifted into the Smoky Sea near the ruins of Valyria.

There, they discovered a subterranean cave along the coast and retrieved an ancient relic—a broken stone tablet with carved inscriptions. During their exploration, they were attacked by stone men, monstrous figures infected with greyscale. Several sailors were scratched and contracted the disease.

When the ship docked, the infected sailors were prevented from disembarking.

The red priestess approached Rhaegar on her white horse, her voice filled with concern. "Your Grace, greyscale is extremely dangerous. They must be banished immediately."

Rhaegar nodded thoughtfully. Both Westeros and Essos typically dealt with greyscale by exiling the infected to the harsh environment of the Smoky Sea.

"First, imprison them under strict guard," Rhaegar commanded. He then instructed the Fiery Hands to bring the broken stone tablet closer.

The tablet, made of black dragonstone, was heavily damaged, with a rectangular shape that was split in the middle and crushed around the edges. Valyrian script was faintly visible on its surface.

Rhaegar examined it closely, silently reading the fragmented inscription: "Belaerys... high tower... nest..."

Despite the erosion of time, he managed to recognize a few words. His eyes widened in surprise. "Belaerys family!" he exclaimed.

The Belaerys House was one of the forty Dragonlord families that had once lived on the Fourteen Flames. They were renowned for their immense power, far surpassing House Targaryen, which ranked lower among the Dragonlords.

Realizing the gravity of this discovery, Rhaegar decided to keep it discreet. "Carry the stone tablet away. I will deal with this privately," he ordered, aware of the potential complications involving a prominent Dragonlord family.

As the sun set, the crowd looked up at the sky, their faces reflecting a mix of emotions—loss, regret, and joy.

Rhaegar felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He had already achieved much in his brief tenure as Emperor of Volantis. Holding onto the title any longer would only invite unnecessary trouble.

...

Night descended upon the city.

Within the black walls, in what used to be the residence of the Tiger Party, now repurposed by the Dragonlord, a quiet mist filled the air. Steam billowed from a cracked window in a courtyard bathroom, accompanied by the gentle sound of flowing water.

A tattered black robe hung over the door, signifying the identity of the occupant.

Inside, the bath was elegantly designed, with cobblestones lining the floor, flowers adorning the corners, and hot water cascading from a bamboo tube into the bath.

Rhaegar was completely submerged in the warm water, his body relaxed and his mind at ease. At the edge of the bath, the ancient stone tablets lay flat, their surfaces meticulously cleaned.

Resting his head on the edge of the tub, Rhaegar's face reflected serene exhaustion. The relentless events of the day had taken their toll, and now was his moment of rest. He drifted off into a deep, unguarded sleep, his long hair fanning in the water, the soothing sound of the flowing water in his ears.

In his hand, close to his chest, was a glass candle. Even in his sleep, Rhaegar's dedication to uncovering the secrets of the relics remained.

As night fell, a faint beep sounded.

"Exploration complete, please retrieve the lost treasure."

Rhaegar, still deep in slumber, stirred slightly but did not awaken.

The system automatically resumed its task.

[Bloodmage's Secret Candle]

Exploration Progress: 100%

A small purple orb appeared above the water and gently descended. As it made contact with Rhaegar's arm, it burst into a soft glow, infusing him with its light.

"Relic picked up successfully, detecting..."

"Detection successful, recognized as an Epic Relic, Bloodmage's Treasure."

The messages continued, but Rhaegar remained undisturbed, his fatigue too deep to be shaken.

With the glass candle near his ear, another beep sounded.

"Congratulations, Bloodmage's Treasure has been activated, you have obtained..."

[Enchantment Spell
Grade: Excellent (Blue)
Effects: When used with a glass candle, it enhances the potency of the bloodline and strengthens magical abilities.
Rating: "A rare spell co-developed by a Pyromancer and a Bloodmage."]