Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 536: Blood and the Cook

Chapter 536: Blood and the Cook

Rhaegar felt a lightness in his head and froze for a moment. He reached out and touched it. The scales were smooth, leaving small rough pits.

"Is something wrong with me?" Rhaegar was stunned, and for the first time, he felt a sense of regret for the deformed horns. Suddenly, a sharp point poked out from his head.

Rhaegar quickly turned around, and the reflection in the stream showed his face. A pitch-black horn was growing back at a speed visible to the naked eye. Hard, curved, forked... It looked like a real dragon horn.

Momentarily distracted, Rhaegar touched the new horn again and again.

Pop! A small silver fish released from the water swam out, causing a slight ripple.

Rhaegar finally came back to his senses and immediately checked the Explorer's System panel.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)
Bloodline: Dragonborn (+57%)
Runes: Serpent (Blue), Bronze (Green)
Blood Sorcery: Seven Fireballs (Green), Binding Spell (Blue)
Relics: Blood and Fire (Fire Resistance +100%), Pure Water (Toxin Resistance +100%)...
Comment: “An ancient lineage, in a noble house.”

Rhaegar's eyes widened in shock. The bloodline column had increased from (53%) to (+57%), and more numbers were likely to come.

"Pure water, Is it purifying my bloodline?" he whispered, stroking the three-inch long black dragon horn, his heart filled with awe.

It wasn't just the improvement in his bloodline. After reaching 50% or more, every jump in the numbers was a difficult feat. This purification was also unexpected. What surprised him was that the bloodline seemed to have been refined.

The original deformed horns had fallen off, and real dragon horns had grown back. The bloodline's restlessness and negative emotions did not manifest themselves in the dragonborn form again.

Rhaegar touched his chest. His heart beat steadily and powerfully, without any sign of a side effect.

The pure water suppressed the negative state of the dragon blood. Or, it purified the impurities in the blood.

Rhaegar thought about it and whispered, “Impure blood?”

It couldn't be! If his bloodline was impure, there would be no pure-blood Dragonlords in the world. Baelon and Aemon were conceived before his transformation into a dragonborn, and their natural talents were already very superior. The youngest, Maekar, was conceived after his transformation into a dragon and was born with an ambiguous ability to foresee things. It can be seen that his bloodline is stable and unproblematic.

Rhaegar thought deeply and said in a daze, “If it's not my problem, then is it the source of the bloodline?”

If there is a problem with the source of the bloodline, then the offspring will have side effects. But how did the Dragonlords obtain their dragon blood? The story that a group of Valyrian shepherds discovered dragons and were able to tame them is a far-fetched historical account. The real situation is probably another source.

Plop! A little fish leaped out of the water, splashing a puddle on his cheeks. Rhaegar suddenly realized that he was dreaming awake and laughed, “You're thinking too much.”

Ancient Valyria had already been destroyed, and the truth could no longer be ascertained. The bloodline had been purified, so he could continue to refine it with confidence. What would it be like if one day the bloodline was purified to 100%?

Rhaegar smiled in relief and turned to walk onto the bridge: “I'm sure I'll find something interesting on my trip to the Smoking Sea.”

He was determined to take the Slaver's Bay. The Smoking Sea would also be brought under the rule of the Iron Throne. Whoever dared to resist would not escape Dragonfire.

...

Lys, off the Coast

"Roar!"

An ungainly mud dragon leapt across the Narrow Sea, sneaking into the Free Cities. Its behavior was furtive, almost as if it feared being discovered by humans.

Aemond scowled and slapped the itchy scales of his dragon, shouting, "Stop fooling around, Sheepstealer."

"Roar~~"

Sheepstealer grumbled in protest and landed clumsily in the Dragonpit. It whinnied, resembling a disgruntled young dragon barely seven or eight meters long.

...

Topless Tower, Bedroom

Helaena, exhausted, was sewing a little girl's dress.

Knock, knock!

The knock on the door was familiar.

Helaena turned her head, confused. "Aemond, is that you?"

Creak!

Aemond pushed the door open and entered, head bowed. "It's me, sister."

"You’re supposed to be patrolling the upper part of the Narrow Sea." Helaena stood up, tilting her head in confusion. "Why did you come back? Playing the little brat again?"

She knew her brother’s personality all too well. He was just like Uncle Daemon, always acting like a spoiled child.

"Nothing, just came back to see you," Aemond replied impatiently, walking into the room and sitting on the carpet, flipping through pages.

Helaena did not stop him, but stood at the door with a stern look on her face. He hadn't done his duty and had come to her room to hang out. And he claimed he wasn't in any trouble.

Feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, Aemond took a small garment from the basket. "This is a boy's style. Am I going to have another nephew?"

"Your royal nephew," Helaena emphasized the order of birth and seniority, growing even more confused. "Laena is back, and you’re going to the battlefield?"

She could help write a recommendation letter, but the front line might not approve. Laena couldn’t leave Lys for a while. The Braavos and Qohor alliance in the upper part of the Narrow Sea required an experienced dragon stationed there.

Aemond hesitated several times before finally speaking. "You should go back to Myr and take a look."

"Why?" Helaena asked warily.

Aemond looked away and whispered, "No reason. I heard that Myr recently received a shipment of fine lace."

He actually wanted to ask about the whereabouts of the White Worm and the personal attendant, but he feared his sister would report him, so he swallowed his words.

The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became. Aemond hurriedly got up and walked straight out.

Helaena let him pass, her eyes full of confusion. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just wandering around," Aemond replied, feeling much better as his expression returned to its usual coldness.

...

In the Evening, as the Sun Sets

In a dark corner by the gutter, a burly, fat man dressed as a red-armored guard leaned against the wall next to the rushing rainwater. The red glow of the setting sun cast shadows on his face, and he squinted in disgust. He hated twilight, when everything looked blurry in the dark.

Footsteps echoed not far away.

The fat man's ears twitched slightly; he judged there were two people, both thin men.

"Are you here?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

A figure in a black robe appeared, followed by a cowering man in tattered clothes. The fat man walked forward, his broad shoulders and massive frame making an imposing sight. He spoke in a low voice, "Prince, what can I do for you?"

Crash!

A money bag was thrown, smashing into the fat man's chest. The figure in the black robe looked up, revealing a sapphire eye under the hood, and said softly, "He is the cook of the Topless Tower and one of the White Worm's little spiders."

"Huh?"

The fat man took the money and grabbed the cook by the collar, staring menacingly. The cook's legs buckled, and he clasped the other's big hand, begging for mercy.

"No, I'm just a insignificant person. If I hadn't been paid, I wouldn't have dared to come!"

"That's enough. He's your helper."

Aemond stopped him in time, took a dagger from his sleeve, and said coldly, "Bring me the head of the White Worm. There will be a reward for you after the job is done." He then threw the dagger to the fat man.

The fat man caught it firmly, his face darkening. He said in a muffled voice, "The Topless Tower is easy to enter but hard to leave. Everyone who lives there is an important person."

Aemond snorted, his single eye scanning the medal and the scar on the other man's chest. “So what?” he asked.

The emblem was two griffins facing each other, the sigil of the Griffin's Roost of House Connington.

The man before him was one of Lord Connington's many bastards, a knight stripped of his title and his family crest trampled on after deserting during the invasion of Dorne. Reduced to mediocrity, he had become a guard at the Topless Tower, clinging to a shred of his former vanity. Aemond only tolerated him because he had access to the tower and was a familiar face from the war.

The fat man stuck out his neck, his voice filled with righteous indignation. “The price we agreed on is not enough!”

Aemond laughed coldly, taking out five more gold coins from his pocket and tossing them onto the ground. “After the job is done, you'll get double that amount.”

He turned and walked away, leaving the fat man and the cook exchanging nervous glances. They hesitated for a long moment.

The fat man tucked the money bag away, handed the dagger and sack to the cook, and pushed him forward. “Follow me. We can't let the Prince down.”

The cook looked like he was about to cry, but he quickly hid the dagger in his crotch.