"In that case, I guess I'll have to hang around the family estate for a few more days."
Originally, Aegon hadn't planned to move back into House Targaryen so soon. Being outside the estate gave him far more freedom—and flexibility—to build up his own forces and loyal followers.
After all, he intended to contend for the position of head of the house. If he was going to be reborn into this world, why settle for being second to anyone?
Aegon let out a quiet sigh and looked back at his Blackstone Tower across the square. It stood there silently, looming in the moonlight. He couldn't help but wonder—were there still traps waiting for him inside?
Gaemon let out a hearty laugh and threw an arm around Aegon's shoulders.
"We're family now—no need to be so formal."
That easygoing nature of his was contagious. Aegon's heavy mood began to ease.
The coachman turned the carriage around, and the two of them climbed in, leaving the square behind.
...
In the main hall of the Targaryen stronghold atop Targaryen Hill.
Gaemon sat on a bench as Daenys carefully clamped the remaining arrowhead lodged in his body with a pair of tongs. With a sharp tug and a wet pop, she yanked it free.
"The Dragon-Taming Tournament is just a month away!" Aenar's face was stormy as he scolded Gaemon harshly.
"Don't you understand? If a dragon tamer is injured during the taming, it could lead to the dragon viewing them with contempt—it drastically lowers the chance of success!
Why in the world did you charge in like that?!"
The more he spoke, the angrier he got, his voice rising.
"You're sabotaging your own future! Sacrificing your chances for someone who hasn't even bonded with a dragon yet?
I've told you time and time again—don't go trusting people so easily.
With a temperament like yours, how am I supposed to trust the future of our entire house to you?!"
Gaemon scratched his head with his right hand and replied calmly, "I mean, we just hit it off, you know? And in that moment, if I hadn't stepped in, he'd be dead. Simple as that."
Aenar's lips trembled with fury. It was obvious—this fool of a son hadn't listened to a single word he'd ever said.
"Does it still hurt, brother?" Daenys asked gently as she wrapped the bandage.
"It's just a dragonfly bite, nothing serious," Gaemon said with a grin, then stood and turned to face Aenar with a rare seriousness in his expression.
"Father, this really is just a scratch. It doesn't affect me at all.
And that Aegon guy—he's the real deal. I couldn't just stand there and watch him die.
Think about it. We need talent now more than ever. Our two vassal houses—Velaryon and Celtigar—don't exactly have any rising stars in this generation.
Once we relocate to Dragonstone, you're not seriously expecting me to conquer Westeros all on my own, are you?"
"Hmph! Don't risk your life like that again!" Aenar shot him a hard glare, clearly still frustrated. But in the end, he could only throw down that one warning and walk away.
Gaemon could only call after him, "Got it."
...
The guest wing of House Targaryen sat near the kennels, but Gaemon had arranged for Aegon's room to be on the fifth floor—far enough from the hunting hounds and wild beasts that the smell wouldn't be an issue.
Aegon lounged on the bed, comfortably stretched out, projecting the game interface in front of him.
He pulled up Gaemon's profile from the database.
Opening the talent section, he saw:
[Talent: Strong Arms, Courageous, True Dragonblood – Dragonseed]
He tapped into the details:
[D-Rank – Bravery: Increases base Vitality to 125% of the average human.]
[D-Rank – Strong Arms: Increases forearm and wrist strength to 150% of the average human.]
Double D-rank talents.
[Courageous] had boosted Gaemon's Vitality stat to an incredible 96—16 points higher than Aegon's own. And [Strong Arms] gave him the raw strength to dual-wield heavy swords. A natural berserker build.
No wonder he fought like a beast.
From everything he'd seen and experienced today, Aegon had come to a conclusion: Gaemon was the kind of loyal, big-hearted guy who, if born in ancient China, would've been either a roaming champion of justice or a feared outlaw king ruling his own territory.
Someone you could feel safe calling "brother."
With that thought, he closed the panel.
Aegon pulled out the note that the beggar had slipped into his hand earlier.
Who had warned him about the danger?
It seemed the guild's internal traitors weren't entirely united—there were still people secretly on his side.
But why had he become a target in the first place? What had he done to provoke such a move?
Aegon couldn't figure it out.
In the end, with no answers in sight, he set those worries aside and fell into a deep sleep.
...
Early the next morning...
Just as the sky began to lighten, a loud knocking erupted at Aegon's door, echoing sharply through the quiet corridor.
Still half-asleep, Aegon shuffled to the door in his slippers and cracked it open.
Standing outside was Gaemon, dressed in a gray training outfit.
"Stop sleeping. Get up—we're going to train," Gaemon said bluntly, stepping in and dragging Aegon out of the room without giving him a chance to argue.
"Train for what?" Aegon yawned, mumbling groggily.
"Breakfast first. I'll explain on the way," Gaemon said, tugging him along. "You know, during the Dragon-Taming Tournament, if several people want the same dragon, guess what happens?"
Aegon started waking up. "They fight?"
"Hmph." Gaemon let out a cold snort. "They kill. That way, there's no one left to fight you for the dragon. I used to think someone with your build must've had some kind of warrior training. But based on what I saw last night, I'm not even sure you could beat Daenys."
"I'm a merchant, not a warlord," Aegon replied helplessly.
"Exactly. And with just a month left before the tournament, we need to drill your combat skills hard. Otherwise, you'll just end up handing your head over." Gaemon's tone was dead serious.
"All right, all right—you're the boss." Aegon nodded, then remembered the thought that had been troubling him the night before. "About my guild..."
"Father's already sent someone to investigate," Gaemon said. "We should hear back in a day or two. As for the person who slipped you that warning last night, it's likely one of your guild's four senior officers. We'll send someone to make contact."
As they talked, they arrived at the dining hall.
Daenys sat at the table in a silk dress, elegantly nibbling on bread.
Several young boys and girls were also at the table. Gaemon introduced them one by one—they were all Targaryen cousins.
Near the main table, a long bench held several teenagers with various hair colors, quietly eating their breakfast. These were the bastards of House Targaryen.
After breakfast...
Aegon changed into a standard training uniform and followed Gaemon to the same training ground where he had first met Gaemon and his sister.
Gaemon personally took charge of Aegon's training.
"Don't keep your body so tense, especially your shoulders. Relax. Come on, move like this."
Gaemon demonstrated how to loosen up his shoulders.
Aegon quickly followed along, gently rolling his shoulders. At the same time, he activated his talent chip and set up a new training program.
"First, your grip and stance have to be right," Gaemon said, lowering into a slight crouch with his sword held near his midsection. "What I'm teaching you now is the Valyrian military sword stance. It's highly practical. Later, it branches into mounted dragon combat—what we call Valyrian dragon lance technique."
A prompt sounded in Aegon's mind:
[Chip: Learning task created. Actively analyzing and recording all sword techniques demonstrated by Gaemon. Real-time posture correction enabled.]
[Operation successful. Chip will consume 0.1 Destiny Points per second during task duration.]
Aegon quickly checked his interface. He still had over 80 Destiny Points—enough for combat training, at least.
Mimicking Gaemon's stance, Aegon asked, "Was the two-sword technique you used last night part of this system too?"
While smoothly shifting between stances, Gaemon replied, "No, that was my own take on dual-wielding—an adaptation with some Water Dancer moves mixed in. I call it the Valyrian Inverted Cross Dual Blades."
"What, you want to learn it?"
Aegon quickly shook his head and gave a wry smile. "Swinging a heavy sword with one hand? I don't have your wrist strength."
Gaemon chuckled and raised his voice. "Watch carefully—I'm about to show you the fourteen basic strikes of Valyrian military swordsmanship."
"Basic strike: downward slash!"
With a shout, Gaemon's longsword cut downward in one smooth arc. Aegon followed along, managing to keep up thanks to the chip's guidance.
"Basic strike: horizontal slash!"
As he demonstrated, Gaemon kept a close eye on Aegon's movements.
When he saw Aegon replicate the move correctly, he didn't look particularly surprised. In truth, Aegon's sword talent was only slightly above average—at most, the kind of level that might earn him a squad leader's position in the army.
"Basic strike: heavy blow!"
"Next, the twelve major variation strikes—elbow strike, curved strike, crossing slash, slide cut, rebound slash, thrust strike, short cut..."
Gaemon broke down each move of the Valyrian military sword style with patience and precision, explaining every detail.
Aegon trained with equal focus. With the chip's assistance, the learning process was demanding—but manageable.
...
Next to the training grounds stood a two-story pavilion, meant for nobles to rest, eat, or rehydrate between sessions.
On the second-floor balcony, Aenar stood silently, watching his son below as he instructed Aegon. From time to time, he nodded slightly. His wife and daughter, Daenys, stood beside him.
"Father, Aegon seems to have a real talent for swordsmanship," Daenys said softly, leaning on the railing. "Brother only has to show him once, and he remembers. He barely makes any mistakes during practice."
"He's just a bit above average," Aenar replied dismissively. "If he ends up facing dragonfire, it'll still be over in one breath."
Daenys's eyes lit up suddenly. "Looks like they're going to practice archery."
She had seen Aegon and Gaemon set their swords aside and start walking toward the range.
Aenar raised his chin slightly. "Last night, Gaemon said Aegon used an iron shield to block over twenty arrows fired by a Rhoynar longbowman in the dark. That's not something just anyone can do."
"He knows archery too?" Aenar's wife asked curiously.
"Let's wait and see," Aenar replied, noncommittal.
...
At the archery range.
"Try this one—hundred-pound draw," Gaemon said, handing Aegon a longbow.
Aegon took the bow calmly and carefully fitted the leather guard over his thumb.
He pulled an arrow from the quiver, nocked it to the string, and fixed his gaze on a target fifty meters away.
Thrum! The bowstring let out a soft vibration.
The arrow shot forward like a winged missile released from the string.
As Aegon expected, it struck dead center.
Once he activated the chip's assistance, the moment he nocked an arrow, a red cross would appear marking the predicted point of impact. All he had to do was align the cross with the center of the target—near-perfect accuracy was all but guaranteed.
"Not bad. Must be your lucky day," Gaemon said, raising an eyebrow.
He could tell from Aegon's stiff and awkward stance that he was a novice with the bow, yet he still landed a bullseye. Though he joked, he was genuinely shocked by Aegon's potential.
"Again."
Gaemon handed him another arrow.
Aegon took it casually and loosed it without even aiming. By the time he drew, the chip had already analyzed the wind, humidity, and predicted trajectory.
Whoosh—
Another bullseye. This time, the arrow split the previous one down the middle.
Gaemon's mouth dropped slightly. He handed over another arrow. "One more!"
Whoosh—
Without suspense, the new arrow again split the last, still hitting the bullseye.
...
Back on the balcony...
Aenar had witnessed the whole thing—every uncanny shot. His hands unconsciously clenched the railing tight.
In the Freehold, archery carried a very different and uniquely vital significance compared to other martial disciplines.
After all, no matter how refined your swordplay or spear techniques were, they meant nothing against the massive, thick-skinned bodies of dragons.
Archery was different. Archery—true, divine archery—could slay dragons.