Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 592: Dragonbone Pit

"What's the situation? How many people were lost?" Rhaegar asked anxiously.

The eruption of the undersea volcano, coupled with the sudden storm, had been a disaster. However, Sea Snake was relieved to report, "We lost two warships, and only 500 people were injured."

"No more?" Rhaegar asked suspiciously. "This is the Lands of the Long Summer. How did we get here?" The storm had been massive, yet the damage was less than expected. Moreover, the land they now stood on was most likely the Lands of the Long Summer. It all seemed too easy.

"Prince, the remaining ships were damaged to varying degrees, and the sailors are doing their best to repair them," Sea Snake answered, then glanced at the huge black beast sprawled on the hillside. He admired it as he continued, "The storm was so fierce, but thanks to your dragon for finding its way, spewing dragonfire to guide the fleet."

The black wings had torn through the heavy clouds, and the dark green dragonfire had cut through the thick fog. The fleet had followed the dragon's path and, by sheer luck, found this lost continent.

Upon hearing this, Rhaegar looked back at the sleeping Cannibal and couldn't help but feel relieved. 'This troublesome dragon always comes through at critical moments,' he thought.

"Roar..." The Cannibal's pupils remained tightly shut as he greedily absorbed the fire magic in the air, exhaling hot air from his nostrils with each breath.

Seeing this, Rhaegar decided not to disturb the creature and signaled the Sea Snake to walk with him. The grasslands stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the breeze rippled through the tall grass.

The Sea Snake walked a short distance away, knelt reverently, and held a handful of soil to his nose. 'The land of my ancestors,' he thought. After more than two hundred years, the ancient bloodline had finally set foot on it again.

"I had always imagined that I would be able to make a tenth voyage," Rhaegar mused, but the Sea Snake's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Rhaegar looked down to see the Sea Snake's dark face slightly raised, his eyes glistening with tears. "Being able to set foot on this land is greater than the first nine voyages of my life," Sea Snake said deeply, even though he had traveled to Asshai in the east of the world and braved the glaciers in the far north. There was no greater significance than finding the Lands of the Long Summer.

Rhaegar helped the wounded Sea Snake to his feet and spoke with resolve, "We are not just here to find it. We will bring back the treasures left behind by our ancestors. Only then can we justify the twists and turns of our journey."

"You are right," the Sea Snake agreed, regaining his solemn expression as he picked up a piece of broken Dragonstone rubble. "Daemon rode the Blood Wyrm to explore the Snow Peaks and unearthed an ancient ruin."

The old rubble in his hands was a relic he had picked up from the ruins outside. Rhaegar took the Dragonstone rubble in his hands. It was cold and rough, a testament to its age and the external forces that had damaged it.

"Take me there. We can't miss any ruins," Rhaegar said firmly. 'Especially those near the Snow Peaks and the Fourteen Flames. Only the Dragonlord's house would be worthy of them.'

"Should we call Daemon?" Sea Snake asked cautiously. "Your dragon is sleeping. It would be safer to call him and Caraxes."

Rhaegar glanced back at the Cannibal, who remained oblivious. After a moment of thought, he said, "No need. There is no danger in the ruins on the ground. It's easier to uncover more secrets by splitting up."

The Fourteen Flames were more dangerous, and Daemon was willing to be the first to go. After exploring this continent, they could regroup.

Sea Snake considered this and agreed. "The fleet has suffered varying degrees of damage. We will stay here for a while, so there is no rush."

With that, he summoned a team of sailors to gather wood and headed for the snowy peaks.

...

Not long after the team had left, a rustling noise stirred in the grass. The air on the empty slopes was thick with the smell of ash.

“Hurry up, don’t be lazy,” one of the shirtless sailors barked as they approached, carrying a thick pine log on their shoulders. The grassland stretched vast before them, but trees were sparse, forcing them to venture to the foot of the snow-capped mountain in search of usable wood.

"Roar..."

Suddenly, the Cannibal opened its vertical pupils, sensing something. It stretched its neck, peering toward the towering Fire Peak, though the summit remained hidden in the clouds.

Boom!

The massive dragon slowly rose to its feet, its enormous wings crushing the green grass beneath them. With a deafening roar, the Cannibal spread its wings wide and launched into the sky.

As the sailors passed by the slope, the powerful gusts from the dragon's wings knocked them to the ground, sending the pine log crashing beside them.

“A dragon!” one sailor cried out in alarm as he watched the black beast vanish into the distance. The other sailors, one by one, were paralyzed with fear, their legs shaking uncontrollably.

...

Meanwhile, Rhaegar climbed the steep ridge, drawing closer to the snowy peak. Thankfully, the grassland wasn't far from the snowy peak, especially the spot where the Cannibal had landed. It would take about a day and a night to make the round trip.

"Your Grace, the sun here is no different from that of Westeros," the Sea Snake remarked, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun as he surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings.

Rhaegar glanced upward. The sun hung high in the sky, its rays piercing through the clouds. He reached out, feeling the warmth on his skin after spending so much time under its light.

"The Lands of the Long Summer earned their name because it's perpetually summer here," Rhaegar explained. "The land is fertile, ideal for growing crops."

The Sea Snake wiped the sweat from his brow and noted, "The temperature here is indeed higher than in other places. In terms of climate, it's only slightly surpassed by the Summer Sea. Perhaps only the constant heat of the Summer Isles can compare."

'No wonder Lys was known as a "resort" and had attracted the conquest and rule of the Dragonlords', Rhaegar thought. He squinted slightly, his gaze drifting from the blinding sun to the sea where the fleet was anchored. The higher they climbed, the farther they could see.

The beach below was a stretch of golden sand, dotted with broken shells left by the waves. The fleet was moored nearby, shrouded in mist, making it difficult to see clearly. Beyond that, a gray expanse of rolling fog obscured the Smoking Sea, a reminder of the dangers that still lurked there.

Rhaegar recalled the route on the map and said cautiously, "Based on the landmass that remained after ancient Valyria fractured, we're likely on the edge of the Fourteen Flames."

After the Doom, ancient Valyria had splintered into a main continent and several fragments. The most fertile of these fragments was the one they now stood on: the Lands of the Long Summer. The terrain was flat, with extensive plains and fertile land.

The coastal region where the Dragonlords had once lived, known as the core of the Freehold Empire, had suffered the worst damage. It had been blown apart into three small landmasses and a scattering of islands of unknown size. The two main landmasses were separated by the Smoking Sea, which had formed after the continent split in two.

Rhaegar's thoughts turned to a bold speculation. 'With the destruction of ancient Valyria and the near-collapse of the Fourteen Flames, the peak shrouded in mist might be the only one that survived,' he thought, eyeing the thick fog that hid the snow-capped peak. If they explored it thoroughly, they might make an unexpected discovery.

"Your Grace, I found a stone tablet!" one of the sailors called out, pulling a broken slab from the ground.

"Let's take a look," Rhaegar said, his spirits lifting as he quickened his pace.

The closer they got to the snowy peak, the less green grass they encountered. The barren slopes were scarred with scorch marks, and gray-black stalactites, remnants of solidified magma, jutted from the ground. Rhaegar stepped on one, and it crumbled beneath his boot like scorched earth burned by dragonfire.

"Your Grace," one of the sailors said nervously, pointing to the irregularly shaped stone slab lying on the ground.

Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively and leaned in to examine it. The slab was covered in black grime, cracked and shattered. It felt warm and rough to the touch.

"Clean it up," the Sea Snake ordered, frowning.

The sailors hurried to comply, using their curved knives to scrape away the stubborn layer of ash that clung to the stone slab. With a few strokes, lines of writing began to emerge.

Rhaegar recognized the script immediately as High Valyrian. He lightly traced the letters with his fingertips, his lips moving as he read aloud, "Hen lantoti anogar, Va syndroti vãedroma (Blood of two, Joined as one)..."

"This is the ancient oath of the Dragonlords," the Sea Snake said solemnly.

Rhaegar nodded, already familiar with the phrase. But as they continued, the writing below was badly damaged, making the text barely legible. He frowned and wiped more ash from the bottom of the stone, revealing two carved images.

One depicted a volcano flanked by a pair of statues, while the other showed a dragon with its head and tail facing each other, forming a closed loop. The dragon was stout, with a particularly slender tail. Beside it was another dragon, wings spread wide, its tail as thin as an eagle's, and its head tilted as if about to soar into the sky.

The two dragon totems were positioned opposite each other, with the volcano in between.

The Sea Snake pointed to the winged dragon and said with certainty, "This is the sigil of House Aurion. I once saw a breastplate left behind by a Dragonlord of Aurion in the masked temple of Qohor. It bore the same totem."

Rhaegar glanced at him, then pointed to the other symbol. "This is the mark of House Belaerys. It likely represents a marriage alliance between the two houses."

The Sea Snake examined the carvings carefully. "If that's the case, these ruins were probably built by one of the Dragonlords," he concluded. The Dragonlords of ancient Valyria were known for their tyranny and domination. Slavery, colonization, and fortress-building were common practices among them.

Rhaegar stood up and dusted off his hands. "There's no time to waste. Let's reach the ruins before dark."

With that, he gave the order, and the group quickened their pace.

...

The sun rose and set, marking the passage of time until dusk settled over the landscape.

At the foot of the snowy peak, Rhaegar, clad in a black robe, crushed the frost beneath his boot with a crisp crack. He looked up to see the mountain soaring into the clouds like a colossal, gleaming sword.

"It's so cold!" he exclaimed, his breath forming a swift plume of white mist in the frigid air.

Suddenly, a shout broke the silence behind him. "Your Grace, come quickly!" Sea Snake's voice echoed with a mix of excitement and horror.

Without hesitation, Rhaegar turned and hurried down the lightly snow-dusted slope, skillfully navigating around the ridges of the peak. The sparse snow couldn't conceal the dark ground beneath, which was littered with crumbling walls and debris.

Sea Snake stood nearby, pulling aside a broken section of stone wall, his expression tense and alert. As Rhaegar approached, the chill in the air seemed to lessen, and his breaths no longer crystallized before him.

Crunch!

Rhaegar's foot landed on something brittle. He glanced down, his eyes narrowing as he realized he had stepped on a pile of rubble concealing a dark skeleton. The bones were slender, resembling those of a large cat or dog, but their inherent blackness was unmistakable.

Kneeling, Rhaegar brushed his fingers over the familiar texture of dragonbone. Gently pushing aside more rubble, he uncovered a small dragon skull adorned with horns, no larger than a soccer ball. A mix of emotions washed over him as he held the relic in his hands.

"Your Grace, there's more over here," Sea Snake called out gravely, stepping aside to reveal a broader view.

They stood within the ruins of what had once been a magnificent hall, now reduced to a collapsed ceiling and fragmented walls. Rhaegar's gaze followed Sea Snake's gesture, and his grip tightened involuntarily around the small skull he held.

At the center of the ruins lay a massive dragon skeleton, stretching seventy to eighty meters long, its bones as black as ink. Scanning the area, Rhaegar spotted several other dragon skeletons of varying sizes scattered among the debris, many broken and weathered by years of wind and snow.

One particularly striking skeleton rested against the edge of a broken wall. It spanned over forty meters, its spine severed at the cervical vertebrae. The dragon's skull leaned against the crumbling stone, empty eye sockets gazing skyward, evoking a profound sense of melancholy.

"This is a graveyard of dragons," Rhaegar murmured, his voice heavy with awe and sorrow.