Aegon listened quietly as Gaemon spoke about the current situation of House Targaryen.
As he listened, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. In the original story, wasn't the Targaryen dynasty not actually founded by Gaemon and his son?
The realization gave him a start.
He quickly waved his hand, signaling the four prostitutes accompanying him to leave.
"Do you think there might be any problems with the ships transporting our supplies?" Aegon asked, frowning.
Gaemon paused for a moment before replying slowly, "Right now, our house has three dragons. Each departing fleet is escorted by one of them…"
"But if another Dragonlord family decides to make a move against us, wouldn't that force be too weak to hold them off?" Aegon asked with some concern.
"That's already the strongest force our house can muster at the moment. That's why we need to bring out those three adult dragons from the Dragon Taming Tournament."
Gaemon glanced around cautiously. After making sure no one was nearby, he leaned in close to Aegon's ear and lowered his voice. "Once we leave the Dragon Taming Tournament, we'll need to throw everything we have into escorting the third fleet. That's the most important one. It's not just carrying gems and luxury goods—it's also transporting the Valyrian steel smiths we managed to recruit from the Fourteen Flames!
Dragonstone has a dragonglass vein that stretches over a thousand meters. Dragonglass is one of the key raw materials for forging Valyrian steel. That vein alone is enough to drive the entire Dragonlord Council mad. It's the true foundation for the dynasty we plan to build."
Aegon was taken aback by this.
He had originally thought Aenar's ambitions were limited to conquering Westeros. But judging from House Targaryen's efforts to steal core technology from the Freehold, it was clear their plans were far grander and more complex than he had imagined.
"Truly far-sighted. I'm impressed," Aegon said sincerely, letting out a long breath.
Gaemon clapped him on the shoulder, then raised his wine jug to his lips and took a long swig. "There's an old saying—dragons don't grow fat without wild prey, and people don't grow rich without windfalls. If we're not bold enough to take risks, how could a middling Dragonlord house like ours ever hope to rise to power?
Today, I'm taking you to a place made for gambling."
"A casino?!" Aegon raised an eyebrow, feeling a little worried about Gaemon and Aenar.
The true dragon bloodline came with a side effect: [-50% Mental Endurance]. Under extreme pressure or emotional stress, dragon-blooded individuals often swung from one extreme to another. He worried that Gaemon and Aenar might snap under the pressure they were facing.
Aegon lost interest in the rest of the outing.
He figured it was about time to head home to his wife.
After playing a few hands at the casino, he had a late-night snack with Gaemon, packed up some food for his two wives, and then parted ways with Gaemon at the brothel.
Back in the courtyard of the main castle...
Daenylis was already dressed in the strange and alluring outfit Aegon had custom-designed for her. In the flickering candlelight...
[You are working hard to propagate your house. Gained 0.001 destiny points.]
[You are working hard to propagate...]
...
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
In the Valyrian Freehold, the once-a-decade Dragon Taming Tournament had finally arrived.
At dawn, sunlight spilled across the city of Valyria, each golden ray like the gentle caress of a god, slowly rousing the ancient and mysterious city from its slumber.
In the vast, cloudless skies above, dragons soared and danced freely.
They were colossal, casting massive shadows as they flew. Their membranous wings spread wide as they circled and dove through the air, stirring gusts of wind with each beat. Their piercing roars echoed like ancient cries from a forgotten age, shaking the heavens and tearing the clouds apart.
At this moment, the streets of Valyria were completely deserted. The people surged like a tide, all heading in the same direction.
To the north of the city, at the gateway leading to the Fourteen Flames, stood the Shield of Freedom.
Dozens of enormous dragons sprawled atop the specially reinforced and widened city walls, lounging arrogantly on the stonework and gazing down at the tiny figures moving below.
The square before the Shield of Freedom was already packed with people, shoulder to shoulder in the crowd.
Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze around the grounds. Countless stalls filled the perimeter, offering a wide array of dragon-related goods: exquisite dragon-shaped ornaments so finely crafted they looked ready to take flight, as well as various potions and gear. According to the merchants, these items could help dragon tamers better connect with and control their dragons.
Aegon stood beneath the towering gates of the Shield of Freedom, among the ranks of House Targaryen.
He slowly looked up, his gaze drawn to the dragons looming just above. The breathtaking sight left him speechless.
Dozens of dragons dozed lazily atop the walls overhead, their fiery breath wafting from their nostrils in waves of scorching heat. Combined with the dragons still soaring and spiraling freely through the sky, a rough count suggested that at least a hundred dragons had gathered for today's tournament.
The old rumors from his previous life—that the Valyrian Freehold once held more than a thousand dragons—didn't seem so far-fetched after all.
Woo~~ Woo~~~~~
A deep, resonant horn suddenly echoed through the air.
The dragons in the sky, as if summoned by the call, began circling the Shield of Freedom, then slowly descended onto the surrounding rooftops. The spectacle was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
"The Dragon Horn! A magical artifact that commands dragons!" Daenys shouted with excitement, pointing toward the city wall.
Aegon turned instinctively toward where she pointed.
There stood a bald giant of a man, easily over two meters tall, his body covered in dragon totem tattoos, exuding an imposing presence. He held a massive dragon horn in a firm grip, blowing into it with great force. From his slightly puffed-out chest, flickers of flame could be seen burning within, casting a crimson glow across his skin.
As the horn's call rang out, the once-boisterous crowd in the square quickly quieted. Everyone understood what the sound meant—the Dragon Taming Tournament was about to begin.
Soon after, an elderly man in a flowing golden robe stepped slowly onto the high platform atop the Shield of Freedom.
His robe was grand and long, trailing along the ground. At the collar and cuffs, lines of mysterious runes were embroidered, occasionally pulsing with a faint light.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the old man's raspy yet resonant voice rang out: "Once again, the time has come for the Dragon Taming Festival, held but once every ten years. O great people of Valyria, from mere mortals who once herded flocks, you have walked the long path to this glorious moment—where you now tame mighty dragons. That journey has spanned thousands of years.
Dragonborn!
Go forth—
Go forge the sacred bond with your destiny. Go meet the dragon that is yours, and ride it through the passes of the Fourteen Flames. Let your triumph honor the spirits of your ancestors.
May the ancestors watch over you!"
Aegon's eyes widened. The old man hadn't used any kind of amplifier, yet his voice reached every ear in the crowd as clear as day. It was nothing short of magical.
There truly were astonishing forms of magic still preserved in the Valyrian Freehold.
And thinking back to the tales of dragons being the result of blood sorcery experiments—could those stories actually be true?
What other secrets did the mysterious Dragonlord Council still hold?
Aegon wondered silently.
If the Valyrian Peninsula weren't on the brink of destruction, he would've found a way to sneak into the Dragonlord Council and uncover its secrets for himself.
As soon as the old man's speech ended, a roar of cheers erupted from the crowd.
Then came a group of dancers in vibrant, dazzling costumes, flowing onto the red-carpeted platform before the Targaryens like sprites in a dream.
Their garments were adorned with vivid dragon motifs. As they moved, the embroidered dragons seemed to come alive, dancing with them.
The dancers twirled toward the front of the Targaryen line and slowly parted, forming a narrow path between them. Their elegant poses seemed to offer a warm and welcoming invitation.
One by one, the Dragonseeds participating in the tournament stepped forward from the Targaryen ranks.
They passed through the pathway formed by the dancers and headed toward the gates of the Shield of Freedom, stepping into the legendary domain of the Fourteen Flames.
"It's our turn, Aegon," Gaemon called, turning his head as he strode confidently down the path.
The day before, Gaemon's mother had discovered that he and Aegon had sworn brotherhood, and both he and Daenys had received a harsh scolding. As the matriarch of House Targaryen, the Dragonlord's wife was well aware of Aegon's true identity. It had been her doing that sent Aegon away from home at such a young age.
There was no way she would allow Gaemon to acknowledge Aegon as a brother again. Under her stern command, Gaemon and Daenys had been forced to abandon their bond of sworn kinship.