Chapter 313: The Bronze Fury

On the west side of the Stone Drum Tower, in a dragon-shaped watchtower, metal clanging sounds echoed through a secret room, accompanied by bursts of blinding sparks.

The secret room, roughly a dozen square meters, was entirely constructed of black dragonstone. On one side of the wall stood a forging furnace, its fire burning vigorously. A gray-haired, wiry old blacksmith wielded a hammer, forging the glowing red embryo of a longsword.

Rhaegar leaned against the stone wall near the door, patiently waiting for his new sword to be born.

Creak...

The wooden door to the room opened, and Ser Robert hurried inside.

"Prince, as you expected, there's unrest in the Stone Drum Tower."

Without hesitation, Ser Robert reported the developments. Rhaegar listened quietly, his expression composed.

Otto had met with Alicent, and Mellos had contacted the Hightower father and daughter. This was anticipated. Under pressure, people seek help.

There were also unexpected revelations: Daemon had brought a mysterious mistress into the Stone Drum House, keeping her hidden. The little maid trained by Sara had tracked the spider near Alicent to Daemon's room and overheard the mistress's identity: the missing forest witch, Alys Rivers.

"Hmph, I leave for a short while, and the rats start popping out," Rhaegar remarked with a playful smile.

Ser Robert hesitated before continuing, "Prince, half an hour ago, Prince Aemond slipped out of the castle and hurried towards Dragonmont."

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, surprised by the boy's boldness.

Ser Robert's expression grew more troubled. "Just now, the king woke up from his stupor, discovered that Aemond had left, and chased after him without even changing his clothes."

"My father?" Rhaegar was startled. At this time, his father should still be resting.

"Aemond was rummaging through the king's bedroom for a pass token. The half-asleep king must have noticed and overheard something about Dragonmont and taming dragons."

Indeed, Viserys had been lying in a stupor when Aemond slipped in, muttering about Dragonmont and taming dragons. When he sobered up a bit, Viserys realized that his eldest son was gone, and his second son Aegon was even drunker. He decided to find Aemond himself.

"Prince, the king left a little while ago. Should we send someone to convince him?" Ser Robert asked anxiously.

After his initial surprise, Rhaegar thought calmly. Aemond was eager to tame a dragon, and with the stone tablet Rhaegar had given him, he was basically safe. It was unlike Viserys to venture out recklessly.

Rhaegar closed his eyes briefly, murmuring, "If he heard Aemond, he'll hear me."

Then, shaking his head with a faint smile, he said, "No need to stop them. Send more men to escort them."

He suspected his father was using this as a pretext to try taming the dragon himself. As the king, he was a proud man.

Ser Robert nodded and exited silently.

Dang!

The old blacksmith swung the final hammer, completing the forging of the longsword's embryo. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a rag and uttered a single word in Valyrian, "Quenching."

A young blacksmith picked up the glowing sword embryo with tongs and plunged it into a waiting bucket of water.

Ssss... White steam billowed up.

Without glancing at the cooling sword, the old blacksmith took out three precious materials he had prepared: a pitch-black dragon bone as thick as an arm, an octagonal reddish ruby, and a piece of rune-inscribed parchment.

He polished the dragon bone, creating a slot at the end where he set the ruby. Wrapping them together with the parchment, he threw the bundle into the furnace, chanting under his breath.

Whoosh!

The flames roared higher as the old blacksmith chanted, wrapping the pitch-black dragon bone in layers of fire. The parchment melted into liquid, seeping into the slot between the bone and the ruby, merging them into one.

"Flaming Red Heart, Fusion Rune..." Rhaegar's eyes gleamed as he watched the fiery process.

The blackened dragon bone came from Balerion's remains, the ruby was a Flaming Red Heart, and the parchment was derived from Valyria's legendary sword, Brightroar.

He called up the system panel.

[Brightroar]

Exploration Progress: 100%

"This exploration is complete, please pick up the lost treasures."

"Picked up successfully, you have obtained..."

[Lion's Treasure]

Level: Epic (Purple)

Trigger Cue: "Blood of a King."

Scanning the contents of the panel, Rhaegar remained composed.

While treating his father's injuries, he had extracted a few drops of pus and blood from the festering wound to trigger the [Lion's Treasure].

The system panel recorded:

"Congratulations, the Lion's Treasure has been activated, you have gained..."

[Fusion Rune]

Grade: Rare (Blue)

Function: A disposable item that fuses two items of equal quality, turning decay into magic.

Evaluation: "Take out your two most precious items possible."

Buzz...

Suddenly, the furnace flames intensified, and the Flaming Red Heart set in the pitch-black dragon bone glowed brilliantly.

Rhaegar focused his thoughts, anticipation building. "R'hllor's legacy treasure, from now on it will also bear the name Targaryen."

The casting of the sword was nearing completion. He was ready to bring his creation to life.

...

Dragonmont.

An active volcano loomed against the night sky.

"Hurry up, we're almost there."

In the barren clearing, Aemond clutched a torch and ran tirelessly, a euphoric smile spreading across his face as he neared Dragonmont.

Two Dragonkeepers followed closely, each holding a torch.

Soon, the dimly lit Dragonmont loomed before them, three flickering clusters of firelight marking their approach.

The mountain was massive, its exterior made of black volcanic rock, with the surrounding air as hot as a summer day.

Aemond pushed forward, passing two patrols of Dragonkeepers, both of which were dispatched by his token.

Climbing the steep rocks, he reached a wide, deep, dark cave at the foot of the mountain.

As he raised his foot to enter, a team of Dragonkeepers led by an elderly Dragonkeeper hurriedly arrived.

The old Dragonkeeper, leaning on a bamboo pole, spoke in Valyrian, "Prince, please stop!"

"Why should I? I have a token!" Aemond retorted, his breath coming in gasps, hot sweat seeping from his forehead.

The Dragonkeeper stepped forward, his cloudy eyes filled with gravity. "At dusk, the Cannibal's roar disturbed Vermithor, and now it is cranky."

Vermithor, also known as the Bronze Fury, was a notoriously ill-tempered dragon. The Dragonkeeper couldn't risk the prince's life by allowing him to venture inside.

Aemond wiped away the sweat, his purple eyes scanning the pitch-black grotto. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable.

He was tired of being taunted. He would tame one of the strongest and biggest dragons and prove his Dragonlord bloodline to everyone.

Desire overpowered reason. Shoving aside the Dragonkeepers blocking his path, Aemond roared, "Waking it up will save me the trouble!"

With that, he rushed into the cavern, clutching his torch, determination driving him forward.

He was only one tunnel away from Vermithor. There was no way he would give up now and turn back.

The elderly Dragonkeeper stumbled from the push, looking distraught. "Quickly, catch up! We can't let the prince tame the dragon alone."

Even if it meant death, they had to protect the prince.

The Dragonkeepers helped the elderly man and followed Aemond into the cave.

But the darkness had already swallowed Aemond. By the time they entered, he had disappeared into the depths, leaving them to follow blindly.

...

On the outskirts of Dragonmont, the barren plains were lit by a moving cluster of firelight.

Fifty Dragonkeepers, holding torches, escorted their king with urgency.

"Ho ho..."

Viserys was exhausted, sweating profusely and panting heavily. Despite the long journey, he hadn't taken time to change, still wearing a loose silk robe. The running had caused his neckline to gape open, barely covering his body.

"Faster, we need to get there before Aemond," Viserys gasped, his eyes glowing with determination as he gazed at the towering Dragonmont.

In his drowsiness, he had heeded his eldest son's counsel and realized that following the advice of his royal advisers would only lead to losing his grip on power. Aemond's sneaking into his room provided him with the perfect excuse to act.

Not only did he want to solidify his rule, but he also yearned to tame a dragon again. Tonight, he hoped he and his third son, Aemond, would soar together.

...

In the underground cave of Dragonmont, Aemond carefully groped his way forward, humming the Valyrian nursery rhyme "Shepherd's Evening Sun."

He had learned that the Valyrian language could communicate with dragons, and humming the ballad could have a calming effect.

As he ventured deeper, the temperature of the cave grew hotter, the stone walls burning to the touch.

"It's hot!" Aemond wiped away sweat, his freckled face flushed red.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cavern's downward slope leveled out. Holding his torch aloft, Aemond saw the stone walls covered in pungent sulfurous ore.

"Roar..."

A rough, low roar echoed from the cave's depths, like a war drum's beat.

Excited and surprised, Aemond whispered, "Vermithor!"

The roar could only belong to Vermithor or Silverwing. Filled with anticipation, Aemond ignored the heat and ran toward the sound.

"Hurry! I hear Vermithor's roar..."

The low voice of a Dragonkeeper rang out from behind as they chased after him.

Aemond glanced back and sneered, "Fools, I've already made it in. What's the point of chasing me now?"

Feeling closer to Vermithor, Aemond suppressed his excitement and continued humming the song.

As the cave opened up into a scorching hot crypt, Aemond's eyes lit up. He leapt over bumpy potholes and landed on a dark platform.

A rustling sound of scales rubbing against rock came from the platform, revealing a hideous silhouette in the darkness.

Aemond's body stiffened, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He knew it was an adult dragon.

Gathering his courage, he stared into the darkness and raised one hand high. "Vermithor, come out to meet me!"

(Word count: 1,652)