Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 558: The Hidden Dangers of the House

Chapter 558: The Hidden Dangers of the House

Meereen, Inside the City.

"Quick, catch them!"

"There's a son of the Harpy..."

The shouts echoed through the streets as Grey Worm led the Unsullied army, systematically hunting down the rebels. Any slave or Harpy sons found with a weapon was killed on the spot.

"Do not disturb the people. Seal off the pyramids and arenas of the Great Masters!" The Sea Snake commanded, his voice steady and authoritative as he oversaw the operation from a strategic position.

Meereen, with its towering walls, was a sprawling city dotted with more than thirty pyramids and numerous slave markets. The colosseums, thriving centers for both entertainment and commerce, were significant to the Great Masters' wealth and influence.

"Lord, there are many slaves in the arena," Addam reported, his voice low and his armor stained with blood.

"Continue to detain them and provide them with food and water," the Sea Snake replied, his tone measured. He then pointed to an ancient pyramid, rising a hundred feet above the ground. "His Grace wants to interrogate the Great Masters. You will lead a Velaryon squad to search for the Golden Word."

Addam's initial shock quickly turned to excitement. "Yes, my lord," he responded eagerly. He called over a group of soldiers, their armor emblazoned with the seahorse emblem, and they moved swiftly toward the pyramid.

As the Sea Snake watched Addam and his men disappear into the distance, a wave of mixed emotions washed over him. His thoughts wandered briefly to Laenor.

...

At the City Gate.

Cannibal crouched on the ground, its massive head raised high and its two wings spread wide like a menacing guillotine. Hundreds of Great Masters, their faces contorted in terror and stained with urine and feces, looked up at the black dragon in panic.

It was too immense. Even the 800-foot-high Great Pyramid, with its Harpy sculpture at the top, seemed like a mere broken house in front of the dragon's colossal form. The Great Masters, men and women alike, were bound together like common slaves, unable to escape.

“Gentlemen, any last words?” Rhaegar sat astride the Cannibal, his chest bare and his body unclothed.

“Please, let us go! We'll pay you in gold!” A young Great Master fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. They had heard tales of the Good Masters of Yunkai paying for their lives and hoped to strike a similar bargain.

Unfortunately, they had misjudged their captor. Rhaegar chuckled and tilted his head to the side. “Listen, if I kill you all, your wealth will be mine as well.”

“No, no!” The remaining Great Masters were completely panicked, begging for mercy. But Rhaegar had no intention of sparing them.

“Roar...” Cannibal sensed its master's intent, opening its hideous mouth as dragonfire began to accumulate in its throat.

“Dracarys!” Rhaegar commanded.

Boom.

The misty, greenish dragonfire erupted from the Cannibal's maw, pouring down on the heads of the Great Masters like a torrential flood.

“Ah! Help...”

“Kill me, kill me quickly...”

The land turned black as the dark green flames engulfed everyone, ravaging and tormenting them like maggots on a bone. The Great Masters did not die instantly; instead, they writhed in agony under the flames. Some smashed their own heads in, while others used hidden daggers to slit their throats, desperate for the luxury of a quick death.

In the distance, a group of Unsullied were holding another Great Master captive. Almos, stripped of his magnificent robe and scepter, lay on the ground like a piece of rotten mud, his spirit on the verge of collapse.

“Roar...” Cannibal slowly turned its head, its green pupils flashing with mockery. The Unsullied flinched, lifting their spears and stepping back.

“No, not dragonfire...” Almos' pupils trembled, his face covered in terror as he crawled on all fours like a dog, trying to escape his inevitable fate.

“All right, Cannibal.” Rhaegar patted the pale dragon horn, his eyes glinting with interest. “How many wizards from Asshai have you hired?”

The Ghis descendant in front of him, Almos, was visibly flustered. He stammered out a half-truth, “No, I only bought a few wizards. Asshai uses this as a springboard to contact the outside world.”

“Are the Asshai wizards interested in the outside world?” Rhaegar’s tone was skeptical.

“Yes, I’m not lying.” Almos waved his hands frantically, revealing more, “They study magic and use my ships to travel around the world.”

Rhaegar frowned at this news. A group of wizards with no interest but in causing trouble would only bring chaos wherever they went. As he pondered, Almos’s eyes darted around, desperately seeking a way to save his life.

“How many pseudo-dragonslords are there in Slaver’s Bay?” Rhaegar's question cut through his thoughts.

Almos hesitated, trying to evade, “Just that one family. The rest are of Valyrian descent, but we can’t be sure.”

“Oh?” Rhaegar's eyes narrowed. Without a word from him, the Unsullied raised their spears and pierced Almos's thigh.

“Ahhh!” Almos screamed in agony, his pleas for mercy becoming frantic, “Spare me, I dare not lie anymore.”

Rhaegar remained calm, “Where are the bloodlines of the false dragonslords?”

Slaver’s Bay, the closest Oldcastle to ancient Valyria, surely had other descendants of the Dragonlords. Perhaps their bloodline was diluted, or they had forgotten their ancestral glory. But they were still Dragonlord descendants.

Under the torture, Almos broke, spitting out names of small families suspected to be Dragonlord descendants. “I have many concubines, all of whom are pregnant with the blood of the false dragonlord,” he added desperately.

“Very good,” Rhaegar said with a faint smile. Four or five small families, possibly descendants of the Dragonlord, living in Slaver’s Bay amidst vast disparities of wealth. Without the Dragonlord surname, they were akin to herdsmen before the pseudo-dragons' rise.

“Your Grace, I’ve told you everything.” Almos, sweating profusely, begged, “You can keep me and let me manage Meereen for you.”

“Yes, you are very useful.” Rhaegar’s smile did not deny it, and Almos’s eyes lit up with hope.

“But you’re more useful to me dead.” Rhaegar’s smile faded, turning cold. “Dracarys, Cannibal.”

“Roar!” Cannibal responded, spewing Dragonfire that enveloped Almos in a blanket of flames.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh~" Almos's screams echoed as the Dragonfire burned his skin inch by inch, his body writhing in agony.

The death of the Great Masters symbolized a new era in Meereen, a drastic shift in power and the dawn of a changed world.

...

At night, in the Great Pyramid of Meereen, Rhaegar sat in a chair that once belonged to the Great Masters, a scarf draped over his shoulders. The cool night breeze blew into the room, flipping the pages of the books on the table.

Rhaegar’s spirit was concentrated as he carefully made notes on an ancient map of The Lands of the Long Summer. Many topographical features had been marked by the false dragonlord, providing a detailed record of the region.

“Still studying the map?” Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence. She emerged from the bathroom, her silver hair still damp, and approached Rhaegar with light steps.

Startled, Rhaegar rubbed his brow. “This map is much more accurate than the one in Dragonstone. I’ve been marking the territory that our house once owned.”

Rhaenyra glanced at the map and then back at Rhaegar, concern in her eyes. “Don’t strain yourself too much,” she said softly. She took a towel and gently dried his long hair. “Meereen has surrendered, and the entire Slaver’s Bay is under our control. We have been very successful.”

Rhaegar leaned back, finding a soft spot to rest his head. He sighed, “It’s not enough. The House has too many flaws.”

His father had been right; the Targaryens were a chaotic and disorganized bunch. Despite each member having a dragon, there was always internal strife. During his father’s reign, the king was weak, and the advisers were strong, creating a power imbalance. If it weren’t for Rhaenys’s understanding and consideration, a second bloodshed of dragons would have been inevitable.

Today, the internal environment of the house had greatly improved. Rhaegar was strong enough to command respect with his Cannibal, but the combined strength of one man and one dragon was not enough to suppress the rest of the family. Daemon and Aemond were prime examples. They recognized Rhaegar’s rule but also criticized each other. If Rhaenyra hadn’t intervened, the two would have fought each other until the moment Rhaegar left the dream world.

“Daemon is gone,” Rhaenyra sighed. “The uncle and nephew are both a worry. There will be a fight sooner or later.”

“If a house wants to thrive, it must have a treasure that is important to the house,” Rhaegar said, looking up at her. “I wanted to suppress the internal struggles and wait until our children grew up.”

When they children grow up, the house will surely regain the splendor of the time when the Old King was alive, Rhaenyra frowned slightly, waiting for him to finish.

"But this is a temporary solution that doesn't solve the problem," Rhaegar said with a hint of disappointment. He continued sincerely, "Even if our children don't fight when they grow up, it's inevitable that their children will."

Controlling the dragons of House Targaryen isn't easy, and the family can't rely on feelings to maintain unity. Aegon the Conqueror was a legendary figure, but his family was a mess. His sister, Queen Rhaenys, was jealous and spoiled by her brother Aegon and sister Visenya. For every night Aegon spent with Visenya, he had to spend ten with Rhaenys. On the nights Aegon was absent, she would summon her male lover to spend the night singing and laughing.

Rhaegar boldly claimed, "If Queen Rhaenys hadn't been killed, the sisters would have fought sooner or later."

The descendants of the conqueror, Aenys and Maegor, were also at odds with each other. Maegor's kinslaying was not only cruel to his nephew but also a result of the grudges from the previous generation. Even in Aegon's family, there were already many hidden problems. Not to mention the larger and more complex family that Rhaegar alone was responsible for maintaining. There was his uncle Daemon, his aunt Rhaenys, five siblings of the same generation, and a large number of children in the next generation.

Rhaegar had always been relatively tolerant and gave them the utmost respect. He married Rhaenyra and Helaena to bring several half-brothers into his circle. As the eldest son, Baelon had his support and an almost smooth path. But what about the next generation and the one after that? The house is growing more prosperous every day. In a few generations, there won't be enough dragon eggs to go around, let alone dragons to ride.

"The problem is not scarcity, but inequality. What will happen then?" he wondered.

Rhaenyra understood what he meant and hugged him tightly, whispering, "Rhaegar, do you still want to go to the Smoking Sea?"

The Smoking Sea held the dragon horn, which could suppress the restless dragons. Rhaegar didn't deny it, saying, "I wanted to conquer Slaver's Bay and then take Daemon to the Smoking Sea." The accident came too soon, and Daemon had to make up for the mistake.

"Then wait a while before going to the Smoking Sea," Rhaenyra whispered. "You found an Aethyrys girl for Aegon, solving the problem of his marriage, there's only Aemond left."

Their Father Viserys valued the marriage of his heir. But Aegon didn't like his fiancée, Selina Hightower, and delayed the wedding. Aemond was of age but was also holding things up.

"Fine, let's go back and see our father," Rhaegar agreed.