章 7: Chapter 7
Rhaegon strode through the bustling village at the foot of Dragonstone, his heavy boots clacking rhythmically against the cobblestone path. The sea breeze, thick with salt and the scent of fish, blew against his face, though he paid little attention to it. His purple eyes swept across the lively port town, noting its similarities to a larger, more organized Nassau that he remembered from Blacksails. This was no mere village; it had grown into a thriving hub of trade, expanding with new vitality as ships from across the narrow sea crowded the harbor.
The pier stretched far into the water, wide enough to support a line of ships, some of them grand vessels that carried goods from every corner of Essos and beyond. He could see men of Essosi appearance, their tanned skin glistening with sweat as they loaded crates onto a large cargo ship, clearly in a hurry to depart before nightfall. Trade was constant, and the energy of the port was palpable. This place had become more than a stopover for small traders; it was a key point in a broader network, and much of it was because of him.
"Busy day," Rhaegon murmured to himself as he neared the tavern, his eyes still following the movement of goods and people.
He entered the tavern without ceremony, his presence acknowledged by a few patrons, though none dared to approach. He had long since stopped caring about the stares. He made his way to the farthest corner, where a window overlooked the port, and found his mother, Visenya, seated at the table, her gaze serene yet sharp as she watched the world outside.
"Mother," he greeted as he sat across from her.
Visenya looked up, her silver hair catching the dim light of the tavern. "Rhaegon." Her voice was calm, as it always was, but there was a warmth in her eyes, a shared understanding between them.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the tavern—a low hum of conversation, the clinking of cups—fading into the background. Outside, the Essosi workers continued their task, loading crates filled with goods, some more valuable than others. A large shipment of wine was being prepared for transport, though it was not ordinary wine. Rhaegon's blood was in that wine, just as it had been in many others before it. Diluted, of course, to a degree that most buyers wouldn't know, not that they knew anyway about what made the wine special, but it was enough. Enough to keep people coming back for more. Enough to build a legend around it.
"You've seen how they covet it," Visenya said, breaking the silence. She gestured toward the harbor, where crates of their special wine were being loaded. "Everywhere. From the Free Cities to Westeros, they whisper of its powers. The blood of dragons, they say. It can heal, it can protect. But they don't understand, do they? Not truly."
Rhaegon leaned back, arms crossed, eyes still on the window. "They don't need to understand. They just need to believe."
Visenya nodded, her eyes drifting to the sea beyond. "Two years ago, when The Boiling Blight ravaged Dragonstone, they saw the truth of it. How many lives were saved by just a few drops of blood mixed into the wine. But now... they've diluted it so much by reselling what they buy here, most of what they sell or use does little more than soothe a sore throat. Yet, the demand only grows."
Rhaegon thought back to those dark months when the Blight had struck. It had come from the Summer Isles, carried by traders. The disease had spread quickly, boiling the blood of its victims, leaving them blistered and broken. Bodies had piled up, and the fear in the eyes of the smallfolk had been real. But when the wine, mixed with his blood appeared and began to heal those afflicted, the whispers began. Soon enough, the wine had become coveted, not just as a drink but as a cure. Now, every merchant and trader in the known world wanted a piece of it.
"The Blight made it famous," Rhaegon muttered, his fingers tapping on the wooden table. "But now it's little more than a fancy drink for rich lords and merchants. They've diluted it so much to make it cost-effective for the common folk, and yet only the wealthiest can afford the real thing."
Visenya smirked, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's why we are thriving. Even the smallest drop of your blood, mixed into a cask, is worth its weight in gold. The coffers of Dragonstone have never been fuller."
"And our family is stronger for it, and the dragons more easily fed and plumper" Rhaegon added, his voice low. "And the best is that they believe it's dragon blood or some kind of magical wine."
"They wouldn't understand if they knew the truth. Let them believe what they want. Let them think it's ancient magic or the blood of old Valyria," Visenya said, her tone matter-of-fact. She glanced at her son, her expression unreadable. "It's better this way."
Rhaegon's gaze shifted back to the window, watching as the ship began to pull away from the pier, its cargo bound for Essos. He had heard the rumors from across the narrow sea. Essos was a land of opportunity—and chaos. The Free Cities were constantly at each other's throats, vying for power, land, and resources. Pentos, Tyrosh, Lys, and Volantis were locked in a bitter struggle, each trying to come out on top. And it was no secret that much of their wine ended up there, used as a resource in their wars.
"I hear the situation in Essos is worsening," he said, not looking away from the window.
Visenya's lips tightened briefly. "Pentos, Tyrosh, Lys… they've united against Volantis, but Volantis is still the stronger of them. They'll fight until one of them falls, or all of them do. In the meantime, their buy orders for our wine continue. It's become a war resource for them."
Rhaegon nodded. "And the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Some demand, but nowhere near as profitable as Essos," Visenya replied, her voice tinged with indifference. "The various Kings and Lords are pilling more orders slowly but not yet there to compare."
"Short-sighted," Rhaegon muttered.
"Always."
After another moment of silence, Visenya stood from the table. "Come. Aegon will be expecting us at the castle."
They left the tavern, walking through the busy streets toward the towering silhouette of Dragonstone. The sun was beginning to dip low, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.
As they entered the castle's courtyard, they were greeted by Aegon, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his ever-watchful gaze on the horizon. He turned as they approached, a slight smile on his lips.
"Back from the port?" Aegon asked, his tone casual.
Rhaegon nodded. "Saw the ships loading. Our wine will soon be on its way to Essos."
"Good," Aegon replied. "Essos is where our fortune lies for now. Westeros will come later."
He looked up toward the sky, where the dragons had begun to gather. The air was filled with their distant roars, the sound sending shivers through the castle walls.
"I'm flying to Oldtown," Aegon said, glancing at his sister and son. "You're welcome to join me. The sky is clear, and our dragons are restless."
Visenya smiled faintly. "We'll come."
Before they could take flight, however, Rhaegon's twin sisters, Vaenya and Rhaenya, came bounding into the courtyard. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the dragons, their excitement palpable.
"We want to go!" Vaenya said, her voice ringing with determination.
Rhaegon sighed, but there was no stopping them. Vaenya climbed atop her dragon, Vhaenara, while Rhaenya mounted Sezery. Rhaegon himself made his way to Deathwing, his massive black dragon, now almost as large as the future Meleys he remembered from the show at nearly six years old. The beast's purple eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger and ferocity.
Aegon followed on Balerion, his monstrous black dragon casting a shadow over the courtyard.
The wind whipped through Rhaegon's hair as Deathwing took to the skies, his powerful wings slicing through the air with a force that sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. Below him, the island of Dragonstone grew smaller, the villages and farms looking like mere specks from this height.
As they flew toward the mainland, Rhaegon could see the Seven Kingdoms stretching out before him. The towns and villages passed below, their inhabitants no doubt staring up in awe and fear at the sight of dragons soaring above them. Deathwing let out a deafening roar, causing the people below to scatter in terror.
"Must you do that every time?" Visenya's voice came from beside him, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated as she flew on Vhagar.
Rhaegon only smirked, letting the roar of his dragon echo through the skies once more.
The dragons flew in formation, their roars echoing across the land. Every village and town they passed seemed to tremble in fear, the sight of the great beasts enough to make even the bravest men cower.
週次パワーステータス
-- 推薦
ランキング 
-- 推薦
チケット