Chapter 549: The Secret of the Bastards Dragonlords

King's Landing.

Red Keep, the Council Chamber.

"Gentlemen, Lady Cassandra of Storm's End has sent a letter requesting the royal family to replenish half of the assets that Prince Aemond took from the castle," Lyman announced, his friendly face scanning the room inquiringly.

Jasper, with a sneer, spun the orb of identity and retorted disdainfully, "You are the Master of Coin, Lyman. It's your decision to make."

Lyman's old, clouded eyes narrowed in displeasure. "His Grace is on an expedition, and every gold dragon coin in the treasury is precious."

"Then don't give it to them. It was the Prince who took it anyway," Jasper scowled. "The women of House Baratheon are unreasonable, and we shouldn't bother with them."

The Small Council fell silent at these words.

Hand of the King Lyonel, sitting at the head of the table with his brown hair turning gray at the temples, spoke decisively, "Let's wait until His Grace returns from his campaign before we discuss this matter further."

Jasper snorted, blurting out, "His Grace is still playing war games. Otherwise, we could ask the Old King in the Red Keep."

The "Old King" Viserys was still residing in the Red Keep.

Grand Maester Orwyle was the first to object, "His Grace Viserys is not well. It would be best not to disturb him."

"Hmph," Jasper snorted again. He could not stand the Lady of House Baratheon. Lord Borros had promised one of his daughters in marriage to his son, but Cassandra had flatly refused. Recently, word had come that Lord Rowan of the Reach had proposed to House Baratheon. He felt like a fool.

Hearing Jasper's insolent remarks, Lyonel frowned deeply and prepared to rebuke him. But before he could speak, Tormund, who had been silent, moved. He took a letter from his black cuff and said solemnly, "Unfortunately, Lady Cassandra may not live to see His Grace's solution."

Lyonel took the letter with a puzzled look, and his face changed drastically as he finished reading it.

"Yesterday morning, Lady Cassandra died unexpectedly. The cause of death was bacon choking her throat..."

...

Storm's End

The rain fell heavily, and lightning pierced the heavy clouds.

Inside the chapel, two Silent Sisters attended to the body.

The castle was damp, and a chill wind nearly blew out the candles. Maris, her eyes red from crying, stood alone at the edge of the altar, watching. The corpse was as pale as paper, and the Silent Sisters wiped it patiently, inch by inch, from cheeks to neck, from chest to toes. After a cycle, they meticulously wiped the seven orifices again. Lowering their eyes, they lifted the corpse's long black hair, carefully cleaning the black blood flowing from the ear holes.

"Be gentle, she's afraid of pain," Maris murmured, her voice light and vacant.

Before her lay Cassandra's ashen corpse, blood oozing from her red lips.

Tapping, tapping...

Behind Maris, the Regent, Lady Elenda Caron, walked slowly, her expression unreadable. "The murderer was a newly recruited maid, and she has been punished," she said.

"What a pity." Maris lowered her head, her sadness evident.

Elenda glanced coldly at her second daughter. "Prepare well, and you will get what you want." With that, she left without a moment's delay.

Maris kept her head bowed, staring deeply at Cassandra's lifeless face. "Life is always fragile, isn't it?"

...

Across the Narrow Sea

Meereen, the Great Pyramid.

In the luxurious hall, a man with a black face choked himself, convulsing wildly. The delicacies on the table crashed to the floor, breaking the warm and harmonious dinner. His forehead veins bulged, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and his face contorted in agony.

"Hizdahr Loraq, your life is so fragile," Almos remarked, standing nearby with his scepter, watching the guest writhe in agony.

Hizdahr's eyes gradually lost focus, his lips turned blue, and blood spurted from his mouth. His head fell to one side as he succumbed to the poison.

"Someone, clean this up," Almos ordered, his voice tinged with disgust. Slave soldiers entered to drag the dead man away, blood from his seven orifices dripping onto the floor tiles.

Almos covered his nose and mouth, muttering, "Stupid fool, the enemy is at the gates and you still want to make peace." Disgusted by the smell of blood, he walked to the end of the corridor.

As he walked, faint music reached his ears. Almos straightened his robe and opened a gauze curtain, too thin to keep out flies. The spacious inner room was filled with the pungent aroma of incense.

A handsome silver-haired man thrust his hips, never tiring of pounding the object of his desire. Several naked beauties of all colors lay beside him, laughing and teasing as they watched and commented.

"Daena, come help me," the silver-haired youth called to a silver-haired girl in the corner.

The naked girl slowly climbed onto the bed and pushed the other person's large buttocks with both hands.

"Ahem." Almos coughed to interrupt the scene.

"Ah!" The silver-haired girl cried out and scrambled off the bed. She was about to cover herself with a thin, gauzy dress but was suddenly embraced by the panting silver-haired youth.

"Don't be afraid, you've seen it before," the silver-haired youth said with a smug smile, looking up at Almos. "Good sister, he is still your husband."

The silver-haired girl trembled, sobbing in shame. "Oh, oh..."

"Shut up, you idiot!" The silver-haired youth pushed her away and threatened, "Don't you dare cry. Do you want to provoke the Dragon's Wrath?"

"Oh, no!" The silver-haired girl shook her head repeatedly, quickly covering her mouth and stifling her sobs.

Almos watched quietly, as if the crying girl were not his concubine.

The silver-haired youth, having vented his anger, sneered, "Almos, your concubine is better than the most depraved prostitute."

Several naked beauties got up, some offering massages, others pouring wine. Almos remained unfazed. He said calmly, "As long as you give me what I want, you can play with as many bed slaves as you like."

The silver-haired youth was taken aback by this and avoided responding directly.

"You all leave. I want to talk to His Grace alone," Almos commanded, waving his hand dismissively. The beauties left on their hands and knees. The silver-haired girl put on a veil and passed by with a trembling heart. She lifted her head slightly, revealing her beautiful, white face marred by fine, pale scales that moved like a snake's skin from her left eye to her forehead, giving her a ghostly appearance.

As the room cleared, the silver-haired youth, displeased, mocked, "How was my sister? Was it tight down there?"

Bang! The scepter smashed into his chest before he could react. The youth turned pale, hunching over in pain.

"Daven, I don't want to discuss this nonsense," Almos said coldly, pressing the scepter against his throat. His voice was hoarse with anger. "Tell me something useful, or go back to the countryside and herd sheep."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Daven stammered, terrified. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Remember what you said, you idiot." Almos slowly withdrew his scepter. After months of working tirelessly, all of his ten concubines were pregnant. It was well known that once they had offspring, the seed-sowing tools were no longer needed. If it weren't for the deformed female dragon still waiting to conceive, the siblings would have been killed long ago.

Daven breathed heavily, as if just released from a prison. Almos urged, "Speak!"

Daven, stunned, didn't know where to start. Seeing the danger in Almos's eyes, he made up his mind. "I have a dragon-taming spell, passed down in my family!"

Almos narrowed his eyes, listening intently to the so-called dragon-taming spell.

"Fly, land…" Daven's mouth opened, spilling the key words in the binding spell.

Almos remained calm on the surface but thought, 'It's a real dragonlord, passing down knowledge not known to the world.'

"Not enough, continue!" Without giving Daven a chance to stop, Almos ruthlessly squeezed out all the knowledge he could.

Daven looked miserable and said in a panic, "The only useful knowledge I have is this. The rest is all unfounded legend."

"Speak!" Almos demanded relentlessly.

Daven looked around nervously and whispered, "My great-grandfather's grandfather said that the Lands of the Long Summer have a lot of fertile soil, and that it is in the hands of the strongest Dragonlord family."

On the eve of the Doom, his ancestor was one of the many bastards of the Aethyrys family. In ancient Valyria, polygamy was permitted, and Dragonlord houses like the Aethyrys, which adopted the "child-rearing victory method," were very tolerant of bastards. His ancestor was lucky enough to break into the Fourteen Flames and tame an unknown young wild dragon. As a result, he learned to fly and land binding spells. The Dragonfire spell, however, was offensive and only taught to true family members.

His ancestor moved to what was then known as Slaver's Bay to escape his status as a bastard and to take on the Aethyrys name. There was a property of the Aethyrys family, and the bastard had the right to apply for management. If he managed to run the business well, he would have the opportunity to return to the family. Frankly speaking, it was a tacit agreement. After all, as a dragon rider, it was only a matter of time before he received the surname.

Unfortunately, man's plans are not as good as God's. Not long after his ancestors had migrated, the Fourteen Flames suddenly erupted, and ancient Valyria was reduced to ashes. Slaver's Bay erupted into a riot, launching a pincer attack on the remnants of the Dragonlord's house. His ancestor survived by relying on a dragon.

Unfortunately, the dragon was too young to withstand the powerful arrows of the crossbowmen. His bastard bloodline was reduced to ordinary Valyrian descent. However, many secrets were passed down from mouth to mouth.

Daven touched his nose and whispered, "I have a map of the Lands of the Long Summer in my family, which includes all the Dragonlord houses. Anyone who enters the Lands of the Long Summer will surely be able to unearth lost treasures."

Almos frowned, skeptical. "The Smoking Sea is full of dangers, and the land is already desolate."

"No! You don't understand!" Daven suddenly became agitated, speaking with conviction. "My ancestors said that the Lands of the Long Summer are vast, and many Dragonlord houses have hidden fortresses that even the explosion of the Fourteen Flames could not destroy."

The Fourteen Flames were located in the far south of the Lands of the Long Summer. It was the most crowded place, and there were traces of the Dragonlord families fighting each other everywhere. To ensure the continuation of the lineage, many unknown fortresses were built far away from the Fourteen Flames in the north. Even in the nine major Free Cities, there were hidden plans left behind by the Dragonlords.

No one could have imagined that the Doom would be so devastating, destroying the entire ancient Valyria in one fell swoop. The hidden ruins were thus hidden from the light of day.

Daven pointed to his chest and swore, "The map records the location of an ancient and noble Dragonlord city, which may very well contain a dragon horn."

(Word count: 1,894)