Chapitre 541: Chapter 541: The Evil Wizard of Slaver’s Bay
The same night, in the open Dragonpit, Rhaenyra sat by the campfire, watching the children play and laugh. The warmth of the fire and the sounds of their joy brought a rare moment of peace. After a while, she felt drowsy and gently massaged her temples, her thoughts drifting to Laena's situation.
To be fair, she hoped her friend had made a clean break. Daemon was not a man to be trusted; she had known that ever since she had almost fallen into his hands as a maiden. Laena deserved a happy ending. Even if she married Rhaegar, Rhaenyra wouldn't mind. Laena was a thousand times better than that Jeyne bitch.
"Roar..."
A low growl came from the dragon pit behind them. Rhaenyra listened intently and recognized the sound as the Cannibal's low growl. Rhaegar was in the dragon pit, and the siblings had come together.
Her younger brother had made too many difficult decisions and needed to digest them alone. As an older sister, she knew her role was to be there for him, providing silent support and comfort in these challenging times.
...
In the main hall, the atmosphere was lively as the children played wildly, with several young dragons involved in their games. Maekar, however, stood apart in a corner, diligently cleaning Tyraxes' scales with a small brush. Tyraxes, not entirely pleased, slapped its tail on the floor with a loud crack.
"Look at my dragon. Its name is Vermax," Lyanna said proudly, her arms folded. Perched on her head, the bronze dragon Vermax hissed softly, trying to spread its blood-red wings. It was a handsome little devil.
"Hmph, a little dragon cub, what's so great about it," Aemon snorted, pushing Lyanna aside roughly.
"You hurt me," Lyanna protested as she stumbled but was quickly steadied by Baelon.
"Roar~~" Vermax, defending its master, roared at Aemon.
"Roar!" The Trickster leapt out from the side, letting out a hot, fishy breath. Vermax immediately retreated, obediently returning to Lyanna's side.
"You bully people!" Lyanna cried, stamping her feet in anger.
Aemon crossed his arms with a smug look, "Pfft, little girl."
The Trickster mimicked his arrogance, tail held high.
"You, you..." Lyanna's eyes widened with fury, unable to find the words.
Baela and Rhaena watched from the sidelines. Rhaena wanted to intervene, but Baela held her back, shaking her head. It wasn't their fight to get involved in.
"You're a bad person!" Lyanna's voice trembled with distress, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Wuwuwuwuwu..."
"All you know is how to cry and blush," Aemon mocked.
"Aemon, that's enough," Baelon interjected, unable to bear his brother's cruelty any longer.
Aemon wasn't convinced, "Did I say something wrong?"
"Do you want to get beaten up?" Baelon rolled up his sleeves, taking a step forward.
Aemon quickly retreated, his neck shrinking in fear. His brother's fists hurt.
"You won't behave unless you're beaten," Baelon said, rolling his eyes. He helped the crying Lyanna sit down, whispering, "Don't cry. I'll teach him a lesson."
"No!" Lyanna pushed Baelon's hand away, resisting, "Don't touch me, you're all bad."
Tears streamed down her face, her nose red from crying. Baelon withdrew his hand, scratching his head awkwardly. The scene left him at a loss, trying to find a way to comfort his sister without making things worse.
It's not surprising that the little girl refused. After all, Baelon and Aemon looked the same, and Lyanna often confused the two of them. Now she was crying, and Baelon found himself implicated.
The commotion quickly attracted the attention of the adults. Rhaenyra looked up and saw the children surrounding Lyanna, who was crying her heart out. The sight of her little tongue wagging in her throat was heart-wrenching.
"Seven hells!" Rhaenyra muttered, rubbing her temples as she moved to break up the fight. With many children around, noise and chaos were inevitable. In the past, Maekar had been a loner and often clashed with Aemon. Lyanna's arrival added a wild, fearless girl to the mix, escalating tensions.
"Baelon, tell me what's going on?" Rhaenyra's stern face exuded an air of authority.
Baelon's face froze, and he glared at Aemon, the troublemaker. As the eldest, he often bore the brunt of their conflicts.
"Mother, it's not Lyanna's fault," Baelon said, ignoring Aemon's pleading eyes. He proceeded to explain everything his brother had done.
"Brother!" Aemon wailed, feeling betrayed.
"Shut up!" Rhaenyra's face darkened as she bent down to pick up Lyanna, who had stopped crying momentarily. "It's always you! Do you take pride in bullying girls?"
"Oh~.." Lyanna's eyes flashed, and she began crying again, tears quickly soaking Rhaenyra's clothes.
"No, you!" Aemon stammered, pointing at Lyanna in frustration.
Pop!
Rhaenyra slapped his hand away, her voice cold and stern. "Who gave you permission to point at your sister?"
"Oh~~" Lyanna howled even harder, her little head bobbing back and forth like a tumbler.
Pop! Rhaenyra gave Lyanna a firm swat on the butt, her voice stern, "Tears are not a weapon. Hold them back."
"Ooh~" Lyanna's body jerked from the slap, and her crying stopped abruptly.
Rhaenyra's gaze shifted to her second son, her emotions conflicting. "Whoever caused the trouble is responsible. Apologize to your sister!"
Lyanna cowered, her head down and eyes downcast. She couldn't believe that her father's first wife was so fair. Hmm... It seems I should call her aunt. The more Lyanna thought about it, the more confused she became. She held her hands up and covered her head, her scalp itching as if her brain was about to grow.
Aemon looked sad and said reluctantly, "I'm sorry."
Bang!
Rhaenyra lifted her skirt and kicked her second son in the butt with her small shoes, scolding him, "Apologize properly!"
"Oh, oh~~" Aemon was on the verge of tears, but he shouted, "Anna, I'm sorry!"
Rhaenyra looked at the confused Lyanna and said slowly, "What about you?"
"I'm sorry?" Lyanna asked hesitantly.
"No." Rhaenyra sighed, exhausted. "You have to decide whether to forgive him or not. This is your right."
"Can I not forgive him?" The little girl was vengeful.
"Yes," Rhaenyra said, placing the little dog's plaster back on the ground. "You can choose to fight him or wait to get revenge later."
Aemon's eyes lit up, and he silently rolled up his sleeves. Even the Trickster, who had been scolded for causing trouble, straightened up, its dragon's maw curving into something that looked like a smile.
Lyanna wasn't stupid. Comparing Aemon's height to Vermax's, she turned around and hugged Rhaenyra's leg. "Fighting is not right. I'll get revenge on him later."
"You're the boss." Rhaenyra sighed, grabbing Baelon by the ear. "Watch over your younger siblings and don't cause me trouble."
"Yes, yes," Baelon gritted his teeth and glared at Aemon.
"Hmph." Rhaenyra snorted, shaking her head as she returned to her original position.
Lyanna tried to hug her leg again, but was dragged away by Baela and Rhaena. The commotion was finally over.
In the corner, Maekar glanced over a few more times before continuing to clean the scales of Tyraxes.
...
Rhaenyra held her head high, like a victorious general returning home.
Crack, crack, crack...
Rhaegar leaned against the edge of the dragon pit and praised, "You're good at managing people. You've got a handle on those little ones."
"Of course. Someone who also was spanked as a child and couldn't escape it." Rhaenyra gave a mischievous smile and made a playful, empty slap.
Rhaegar was dumbfounded. When he was a child, he hadn't been spared from being "disciplined" by his sister.
But Rhaenyra truly is capable. After the two siblings had a heart-to-heart talk, they became more open-minded, treating their children impartially and giving them enough care. This maternal radiance is intoxicating.
Rhaegar's eyes fell on Rhaenyra's red lips, and he was lost in thought. Rhaenyra tilted her head to the side, and her silver braided hair fell to her chest. Rhaegar's gaze lowered further, catching the faint scent of milk from under the tear-stained hem of her dress. Her heart is indeed broad, too big to be measured with one hand.
"Sister~" Rhaegar's voice was very soft, like a spoiled child.
"Mmm-hmm." Rhaenyra smiled lightly, and the atmosphere became a little more delicate.
"I'm a little hungry." Rhaegar, always honest, walked up to her and picked her up in his arms.
"How old are you to be fighting over food with your daughter?" Rhaenyra teased.
"Visenya has a wet nurse."
"..."
Rhaenyra looked up, her eyes gleaming with pride. As long as she lived, her position would be irreplaceable. Rhaegar could never escape her grasp.
Without the children knowing, the two of them had already slipped out of the Dragonpit.
...
Time passed, and the summer grew hotter and hotter.
In Meereen, within the Great Pyramid, chaos reigned.
"Damn it, can't they move faster?"
"Send a message to Qohor to build another hundred scorpion crossbows."
"..."
The hall was a cacophony of voices, with the Good Masters arguing among themselves.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A man holding a scepter pounded the floor, drawing everyone's attention.
"Almos, what is it?" asked one of the young Good Masters.
In the center of the hall stood a thin, gray-haired middle-aged man, straight-backed and imposing. His dark curly hair and dark brown skin were typical of a Ghis. Almos, dressed in magnificent attire, held a golden scepter carved with a Harpy.
"The Dragonlords of the Iron Throne are coming, and our preparations are far from adequate," Almos declared with authority.
"What else can we do?"
"The craftsmen in Qohor worked through the night, but they can only make 400 scorpion crossbows."
"Yunkai and Astapor have already declared martial law and completely sealed off the sea."
Dozens of Good Masters were gathered, each voicing their opinions.
At this moment, the importance of the system became apparent. Meereen, a slave city, relied on the Good Masters of the Free Cities to govern it. When faced with major challenges, their cohesion was put to the test.
Almos, who owned the most slaves and commanded significant respect, said, "Braavos and Pentos refused to send troops to help us. We need to find other external support."
"Qarth?"
"Qohor is definitely out. Their Unsullied were bought by Astapor."
"..."
The Good Masters continued their heated discussions, searching desperately for solutions.
"Gentlemen, there's the Dothraki cavalry!" Almos thumped the floor and spoke solemnly.
"I've contacted the largest Dothraki nomadic tribe in the Great Grass Sea. They have the best archers, and ours scorpion crossbows are even more powerful."
There is no shortage of dragons that have been slain in Targaryen history. With the wealth of Slaver's Bay and the Dothraki's bravery, it is not impossible to fight the Dragonlords. A thousand years ago, the Old Empire of Ghis, with its land forces, was able to resist the Freehold Empire for decades.
"Can the Dothraki be trusted?"
"If we let the Dothraki into the city, we'll be inviting a wolf into our home."
"I think it's fine. The Dothraki only care about money."
Most of the Good Masters agreed, though a few remained skeptical. After all, the Dothraki are notorious for their brutality and lack of honor. On the other hand, they do what they say they will do.
After a heated discussion, the final vote was unanimous in favor of hiring the Dothraki to fight in the war. The decision was made. The Good Masters were betting their survival on the savagery and skill of the horse lords.
...
At noon, the flames were high. Almos was alone, quietly walking through the hallways. As he passed a lavish room, the loud breathing of a man and multiple women engaged in a carnal act could be heard. The unmistakable sounds of pleasure echoed through the walls.
"Heh, a bastard Dragonlord?" Almos's stiff face broke into a smile. "Whether it's a real dragon or a bastard dragon, as long as it can be used, it's a good dragon."
He continued on until he reached his destination.
Sasa...
A loft with a wide view came into sight. Inside, a black-robed figure with a red painted mask was shaking an hourglass. The hourglass was reset, and the sand flowed slowly.
A copper basin filled with red-hot coals sat on a shelf, emitting pungent smoke and sparks. Almos stood in the doorway, his eyes fixated greedily on the copper basin.
Three petrified dragon eggs were buried under the coals, their presence radiating a subtle, ominous energy.
(Word count: 2,077)
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone