Within moments, Daella returned in a hurry, accompanied by a girl of about twelve or thirteen dressed in rough clothing.
The girl possessed distinct Valyrian features: silver-blonde curls, light purple eyes, and delicate, porcelain-like skin.
Rhaegar examined her. She was a pleasant-looking girl with a cute, round face, holding Daella's hand timidly.
Daella led her forward and said gratefully, "Layla, this is the lord who saved me. Thank you, my lord."
Layla, an earnest child, dropped to her knees and said softly, "Thank you, Your Grace."
"Stand up," Rhaegar said, his voice softening as he looked at the little girl, who was about the same age as Helaena. He had always been objective in his views on bastards and held no particular bias against them.
"Let's go."
Ignoring the embarrassed Geddel, Rhaegar put on his hood and led the two girls out of the brothel.
...
The following day.
A black-robed figure emerged from the Black Wall and entered an unassuming inn. Ascending to the second floor, he pushed open a door, and a young girl's surprised voice immediately came from inside: "My lord, you're back."
Daella's face lit up with joy as she held a rag for wiping the table in her hand. She hurriedly brought a cleaned stool and said, "My lord, please rest. I'll go order food."
"No need, I brought it back," Rhaegar replied, removing the hood that hid his face and setting down the purchased food on the table.
Daella and Layla didn't dare to take it and looked timidly at Rhaegar.
"I've already eaten," Rhaegar said, waving his hand. "You two eat."
The two girls, having grown up in fear and deprivation, respected and feared him. Daella murmured her thanks and took the food, sharing it with her sister.
As she chewed the bread, Daella whispered, "My lord, did you not see the Triarch?"
She knew Rhaegar's purpose for the morning journey but it seemed to have yielded little success.
Rhaegar nodded. "Neither of the two leaders of the Elephant Party were at their residence."
Last night, he had learned from Geddel about the residence of the two Elephant Party leaders, but it was unfortunate that he was in a hurry andmissed them.
"The Triarchs are abominable," Layla muttered softly, nibbling on a piece of ham and bowing her head timidly.
"Because they encourage the slave trade?" Rhaegar asked.
Layla nodded vigorously, her thin body leaning against her sister. Her heart ached for Daella, who had been trafficked.
"Eat up, I have to go out later," Rhaegar said, rubbing Layla's head, seeing a resemblance to Helaena in her.
"Can we follow you out?" Layla tilted her little face up and asked miserably, "My sister and I have been working in the brothel. We haven't seen what it's like outside."
"Layla, stop it!" Daella was startled and scolded her bold sister.
Rhaegar laughed, "It's alright. Let's go out for a while. It's no big deal."
Saying that, he took out a black robe for Layla. Without seeing the Elephant Party's consul, he didn't intend to waste time waiting.
"After taking in the sights of Volantis and buying some local specialties as gifts, it will be time to return," he thought.
The two sisters, excited to hear they could go out, quickly gulped down their food.
...
At noon, the sun was shining brightly.
Three black-robed figures walked through the streets of the eastern district, drawing curious glances from passersby.
As they strolled, the voice of a woman preaching the faith of the Lord of Light reached their ears, her fervent words echoing through the crowd.
Rhaegar pulled down his hood to see the same red-robed woman from the Long Bridge the day before, passionately preaching to a group of commoners and slaves.
"Let's go around," he said, repulsed by the sight of the red-robed woman, and led his companions into a nearby alley.
Emerging from the narrow passageway, they found themselves in front of a tall building that resembled a temple. Its white walls were decorated with small pieces of red cloth painted with flames, and two stone torches flanked the entrance, their flames flickering brightly.
Rhaegar glanced around and noticed a group of warriors in red robes, armed with short sticks and spears, standing guard near the temple.
"My lord, this is the temple of R'hllor. These are the guards of the Lord of Light," Daella explained quietly.
"I can't believe we've ended up at the doorstep of the Lord of Light," Rhaegar muttered, shaking his head and turning to leave.
"Wait, esteemed guest!" a woman's magnetic voice suddenly called out.
Rhaegar stopped and looked around cautiously. There were few pedestrians near the temple entrance, so it was clear that the voice was directed at him.
A red-robed sorceress with a slender figure and a dignified presence approached him from the temple. She had a striking appearance and moved with grace, her red lips parting as she spoke, "Honored guest, the High Priestess invites you to the temple."
"Invites me?" Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he asked cautiously, "Who is your High Priestess and how does she know who I am?"
The followers of the Lord of Light always seemed a bit mystical, and he was reluctant to get involved.
The red-robed sorceress smiled softly. "The High Priest foresaw the visit of an honored guest, and was guided by the Lord of Light to recognize you."
"Speak plainly," Rhaegar replied, unimpressed by the talk of oracles.
The sorceress's smile faltered slightly. "I saw your image in the flames. It must be you."
Rhaegar frowned, recalling how a red-robed woman at Stone Hedge had used flame illusions to deceive House Bracken three years ago. He had learned of the deception from the soldiers afterward.
Suddenly, he felt a gaze upon him. Looking up, he saw an old man in a red robe standing at the temple entrance, watching him calmly.
The sorceress followed his gaze and said respectfully, "Esteemed guest, that is High Priest, the one who wishes to see you."
"I see," Rhaegar responded indifferently, striding toward the temple.
The high priest had revealed herself, so he had nothing to fear. Worst case, he could call upon Cannibal, and there was little a dragon's fire couldn't resolve.
Shortly after, Rhaegar entered the temple.
The interior was stark, with walls adorned with flame patterns and a stone sculpture of a burning red heart. Fire pots scattered around the space cast a flickering glow, illuminating the dark hall.
The red-robed old man had returned to his place, kneeling by a central bonfire, his hands extended toward the flames. Rhaegar approached, examining the intricate carvings on the walls.
"Great Dragonlord, I have seen you in the flames," the old man intoned, opening his cloudy eyes.
Rhaegar's face remained impassive. "What message has the Lord of Light given you, and how does it concern me?"
The old man, with a kind face and a white beard, shook his head. "The Lord of Light did not send an oracle. It was I who saw you in the flames."
Rhaegar sat down by the fire, listening intently.
"The tides of magic are surging," the old man said slowly. "In recent years, these waves have brought me confusion."
"Tides of magic?" Rhaegar's interest piqued. He had heard this term before, from the head of the Shadowbinder.
"Yes, magic exists in the world, as unstable as the tides," the old man explained. "The flames foretell that the tides of magic will be imprinted on your family."
"The Targaryens do not have a legacy of sorcery from the time of the Freehold," Rhaegar murmured, thinking of the Forty Dragonlords Houses, known for their pyromancy and blood sorcery. The Targaryens, being lesser lords, had not inherited such knowledge.
"Dragons are the strongest magical creatures; they carry part of the magic," the old man said calmly.
Rhaegar fell into thought. It was true that dragons were inherently magical, which explained their immense power.
"Is the number of dragons related to the magic tides?" he mused aloud.
The Targaryens currently had fourteen dragons, both adults and juveniles.
"I don't know. I have never encountered a dragon before," the old man admitted hesitantly. "Since the Fall of Valyria, the magic tides have been in decline. In recent years, they have begun to rise again."
"So, it's not the dragons that influence the magic tides, but the magic tides that influence the dragons?" Rhaegar guessed.
When the Targaryens first migrated to Dragonstone, they brought six dragons with them. Five of these dragons died under mysterious circumstances, leaving only a young Balerion, the Black Dread. Over the next decade, Meraxes and Vhagar hatched. It took several more decades before the fourth dragon, Silverwing, hatched.
The hatching and survival rates of dragons were incredibly low. Starting from the reign of his great-grandfather Jaehaerys, the number of dragons began to increase slowly.
Dragons such as Cannibal and Dreamfyre hatched on Dragonstone, while Vermithor and Silverwing emerged from eggs in the cradle. Twenty years later, Sheepstealer, Meleys, and Caraxes were hatched. In recent years, Syrax, Sunfyre, Seasmoke, and Grey Ghost joined the ranks.
It took over a hundred years from the time of Aegon the Conqueror for the Targaryens to breed fourteen dragons. It was believed that the surging magic tides increased the dragons' hatching rate.
The red-robed old man sighed and said, "The magic tides are extremely unstable. The current high tide may soon give way to an even greater low tide."
In his perception, the magic tide was already weak. If it continued to drop, magic might dry up completely. This would prevent the oracles of the Lord of Light from descending, a terrible tragedy for his followers.
Rhaegar understood the gravity of the situation. The Targaryen dragons depended on magic for their existence. The receding tide of magic would hit them hard.
"Is there any way to stop the receding of the magic tide?" Rhaegar asked.
The red-robed old man shook his head, smiling bitterly. "The magic tide is a natural phenomenon that cannot be reversed by human power. Even the gods' will is beyond our comprehension."
"I suppose we can only hope and see what happens," Rhaegar said, feeling helpless.
The old man's expression grew serious. He reached into his robes and said, "I saw a disaster in the flames. Perhaps this is a test brought by the magic tide."
"You seem to see many things in the flames," Rhaegar said, half-skeptical.
The old man had spoken of seeing Rhaegar and now of a looming disaster. Rhaegar was dubious about the truth of his visions.
The red-robed old man remained silent as he pulled out a glass candle from his pocket.
(Word count: 1,784)