The turmoil in King's Landing had little effect on the daily operations of Dragon's Nest. At least, Draezell quickly calmed down after learning of Maelor's dragon egg hatching. He wasn't worried about the potential ripple effects of the dragon's birth. As long as Maelor remained on Greyghast Island, even if the dragon eventually bonded with the usurper's son, House Vaelarys could crush him as easily as stepping on an ant. Moreover, Draezell was one hundred percent certain that the newly hatched dragon had no connection to Maelor. The blood resonance required for dragon bonding had significant limitations, and over such a great distance, the newborn dragon could only be considered a wild one.
Draezell's focus now was on the affairs of his domain, the selection of King Aegon's Kingsguard, and the child growing in Diana's belly. He had already made up his mind: once Aegon's Kingsguard was chosen and Argo's wedding concluded, they would tour several major cities in the realm, inspecting the Silverblood Army's estates along the way. Finally, they would visit Oldtown, a city that had fallen into decline.
Dragon's Nest, the Twin Towers, Aegon's Chambers
As king, Aegon was granted the largest room in the Twin Towers. This space had once been Ray and Valar's indoor training ground—spacious, bright, and well-lit. Now, it was adorned with expensive hardwood floors and Myrish carpets. The walls were hung with the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre, the Targaryen banner of a red three-headed dragon on a black field, maps of Westeros and the known world, and seven tapestries depicting historical events. A roaring fire in the hearth filled the room with warmth. Beside the comfortable velvet bed stood a bookshelf, allowing the young king to read whenever he pleased. The room also featured a private bath, though the hot water was prepared by servants. Before coming to Dragon's Nest, Aegon and Viserys had no habit of bathing regularly. But here, they had grown accustomed to soaking in hot baths, especially after training or dragonriding. It was a luxury they greatly enjoyed, particularly since they no longer had to trek to the hot springs beneath the Laurel Tower. For the young king and his brother, it was pure comfort.
Aegon emerged from the bath in a loose woolen robe, wringing out his silver hair. He walked to the bed and flopped down, letting the day's fatigue melt away. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
The young king quickly sat up and straightened his robe. "Enter," he called, curious about who it might be. Draezell rarely interfered with his daily life, and Ray had become more engrossed in the grand library of the Laurel Tower since Lucerys' death. Only Valar occasionally dropped by, though lately, he had been preoccupied with his daughter Daenyra, thanks to Leyla's strict oversight. Thinking of Daenyra, Aegon felt a pang of regret. He had once thought she might marry Viserys, but Draezell and Valar had ultimately decided that Rhaegor would wed her once she reached maturity.
The door opened to reveal Draezell's squire and newly sworn blood brother, Lord Revil Haydon. Though often scolded by Aslan during training, everyone knew Revil was a skilled warrior—just not on the same level as the monstrously talented Aslan and Hoffa.
"Your Grace, His Grace has informed me that Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk have arrived at Dragon's Nest. The Kingsguard tournament will begin tomorrow morning."
"The knights are here already?" Aegon quickly stood up. Revil nodded and stepped aside, revealing two knights clad in white cloaks and armor. The moment they saw the young king, they knelt on one knee. Ser Steffon Darklyn had aged considerably, his head now bald and his beard streaked with gray. Ser Erryk Cargyll, who had lost his twin brother, had found new resolve. He was now one of the realm's finest swordsmen and no longer had to worry about being mistaken for his brother. He had even grown a long beard—a darkly humorous twist, given the circumstances.
"Your Grace," the knights said in unison, their voices steady and respectful.
Aegon smiled, feeling a surge of pride. The selection of his Kingsguard was about to begin, and with it, a new chapter in his reign.
His brownish beard hung down to his chest, and his long hair was tied into a bun at the back of his head. The people of the Red Keep said that Ser Erryk did this in remembrance of his brother, who had gone missing during the war. Though Arryk had betrayed the rightful king, he had still been a respected White Knight—after all, there were those who believed that both Aegon the Elder and Rhaenyra were the rightful monarchs of that mad year.
"Your Grace." Ser Steffon Darklyn rose to his feet. "It is our greatest honor to see you grow strong." The aging Kingsguard captain looked with joy at the young king, who had grown taller and more mature. "We bring news from King's Landing."
Steffon gestured for Erryk to speak. As one of the only two Kingsguard left from the Dance of the Dragons, Ser Steffon Darklyn was well aware that he likely did not have much time left. Erryk, still not yet forty, was not only an exceptional swordsman but also unwaveringly loyal, valuing his oaths and honor above all else. In truth, even to this day, Erryk was grateful that he had never been forced to cross swords with his twin brother during the war. He still did not know what would have happened had they been made to face each other. A knight of such virtue was the ideal candidate for the position of Lord Commander, and Steffon hoped to use this opportunity to leave a lasting impression of Erryk on the king.
Aegon nodded, his pale violet eyes shifting toward Ser Erryk. "Ser, speak."
Erryk lifted his head and slowly reported to the king all that had transpired in King's Landing during this time—the recovered treasury gold, the reparations from the Westerlands, and the Hightower vaults, which had replenished the kingdom's coffers. Additionally, Dalton Greyjoy's tribute had further enriched the treasury. Daemon had seized the opportunity to embark on large-scale construction projects. The Great Sept of Jacaerys had broken ground on Visenya's Hill, and new roads were beginning to spread outward, using the three hills as their core. The sprawling, chaotic districts were being reorganized according to newly planned streets. Daemon had sworn to erase the nickname he had earned in his youth—"Prince of Flea Bottom"—though that seemed unlikely.
Moreover, two dragon eggs had hatched. House Targaryen had gained two new dragons, though Daemon considered one of them to belong to Maelor Sunfyre. Still, it was proof that the blood of the dragon remained strong.
"I see," Aegon said, finding none of this particularly surprising. Over the past two years, even House Vaelarys had hatched several dragons, and even Viserys' long-dormant egg had finally cracked open. Though the dragon that emerged was rather amusing to look at, it had still hatched.
That Aegon could remain so composed in the face of such joyous news pleased Ser Steffon even more. The aged knight silently thanked the Father for blessing House Targaryen with two wise rulers in succession, and he prayed to the Mother and the Crone that Aegon would live as long as King Jaehaerys I.
Aegon, however, found himself struggling to keep a straight face when he saw the Kingsguard Lord Commander suddenly overcome with tears. He could only offer some words of reassurance to the old knight before signaling to Ser Erryk to escort Steffon back to his chambers for rest. And with that, the inexplicably emotional old knight was sent on his way.
The next day's Kingsguard tournament was rather "gentle" in comparison. Aegon had refused to include jousting in the trials, limiting the competition to melee combat. After all, three of the candidates wielded Valyrian steel swords and were already renowned swordsmen, all but securing their places in the final selection. Some challengers still stepped forward to test their mettle against these knights. One mercenary knight attempted to challenge the aging Ser Tyr Templeton, only for his weapon to be cleaved in two by Starglare, the sword of the former Knight of Ninestars. Had the old knight not held back, it might not have been the mercenary's sword that was cut—it might have been his arm.
To be honest, many sought to take advantage of Ser Tyr Templeton's old age, but every one of them suffered a crushing defeat. Ser Cole Derry had his weapon shattered, Ser Dick Blackmont was nearly cleaved in two, and Ser Rickard Florent did not even last a single round—his sword was broken by the old knight before he was kicked aside. In the end, two young knights from the Vale, Garon Belmore and Will Hunter, stepped in to deal with some of the challengers on the old knight's behalf.
The fighting lasted an entire day, from sunrise to dusk, until only seven knights remained in the arena: William Royce, Brandon Tarly, and Tyr Templeton, all wielders of Valyrian steel; Will Hunter of Longbow Hall; William Blackwood of Raventree Hall; Adrian Redfort of Redfort; Harold Darke of Duskendale; and Gerrin Drinkwater of Dorne.
King Aegon called a halt to the contest. Both Ser Steffon Darklyn and Ser Tyr Templeton were past sixty, and no one could say when the Stranger might claim them. The young king, awed by the skill of the remaining knights, made a decisive choice—he would take them all. All seven were named to the Kingsguard. However, given their youth, Will Hunter and Gerrin Drinkwater would first serve as squires to Ser Steffon Darklyn, awaiting a vacancy in the Kingsguard.
Meanwhile, Rey was still buried in the library, engrossed in his family's tomes on dragon-rearing. Upon learning of Rey's studies, Draezell happily assigned a silver-haired acolyte, Hagen, to assist him. Hagen's lineage was an interesting one—he was the grandson of Claelorius' bastard half-brother. Indeed, beyond the three brothers of House Vaelarys, there were numerous silver-haired cadet branches and bastard-born descendants. Draezell had consolidated these kin while still in Volantis. Some had remained there permanently, others had become the loyal backbone of the Silverblood Legion, and a few had risen to become key figures in the family. Hagen, ever studious, was one of the latter. He was now apprenticed to Maester Evens, learning under his tutelage.
Only Draezell and Valar watched the entire tournament with detached interest. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Draezell suddenly lifted his gaze southward.
He sensed a surge of blazing magical energy from that direction—a familiar presence. "A priest of the Red God?" He frowned. "No… It carries R'hllor's essence, but it's not pure. Who could it be?" he murmured to himself in a voice too low for others to hear.
---
The Brandyport.
Under the guidance of a tugboat, the Lysene vessel Revelry Maiden slowly sailed into the harbor. Magister Lysandro Rogare of Lys gazed upon the bright and bustling city before him, his expression clouded with worry.
On the journey here, he had received dire news—Dalton Greyjoy's Iron Fleet had crushed the forces of Lorath, sacked one of Lys' outlying towns, and looted it bare. Now, the massive Iron Fleet could set sail for Lys itself at any moment. The thought filled Lysandro with unease.
At that moment, a woman stepped out from the ship's cabin—a dangerously beautiful figure. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long, copper-red hair cascading down to her waist. Her crimson eyes seemed to burn with an undying flame. Even her flowing red robes could not conceal the curves of her figure. Around her swan-like neck hung a golden necklace, inlaid with a ruby that shimmered faintly.
The woman closed her eyes and lifted her head. A dim glow emanated from the gemstone at her throat.
Standing beside her, Drazenko Rogare watched in horror.
It was as if she were burning. Waves of heat radiated from her, an unbearable presence that vanished as quickly as it had come. As she opened her scarlet eyes once more, the oppressive warmth around her subsided.
"The land blessed by the Lord of Light… and His chosen one. At last, I have found it."
The Red Priestess bowed her head in reverence.