"Roar..."
Caraxes roared shrilly, his scarlet body undulating like a snake as he flew away from Myr with Daemon on his back.
Rhaegar remained calm, watching the man and dragon depart. From Daemon, he had learned that the two books detailed the brief history of the "Aethyrys" family.
The contents included taming and feeding dragons, blood sorcery, family reproduction, and more—akin to previous Dragonlords history books he has but far more detailed.
Seeing Rhaegar's silence, Rhaenys stepped forward to console him. "Ever since Laena lost her son in childbirth, Daemon has developed a great interest in magic, especially regarding the Dragonlords of Ancient Valyria."
The riot had broken out so suddenly that the Fearless and the Knights of the Vale were scattered throughout the city. Daemon's timely arrival had dispersed the hordes of rioters who had come to plunder the Dragonlord's ruins.
Rhaegar retracted his gaze and said unconcernedly, "It's fine. Targaryens will have to come into contact with this sooner or later."
His heir was soon to be born, and the Greens were falling apart under Alicent's machinations. United with Rhaenyra and Helaena, his position was unassailable.
It was time to expose the family to magic; they couldn't always rely on whips and yelling to control dragons.
With a determined heart, Rhaegar looked into the pandemonium of the deep pit. Inside lay a half-ruin with much yet to be discovered.
As he pondered, a clattering sound came from the pit and dirty, smelly figures began to climb out. There were quite a few of them - dozens, by his rough estimate.
Some carried broken sacks of gold, others held gold and silverware. A few held petrified dragon eggs and dragon bone artifacts.
"Heh, a lot of good stuff," Rhaegar murmured, his gaze cold as he motioned for the Fearless to swarm up.
Wise noble families never hid all their wealth in one place, understanding the need for multiple safe havens.
This semi-hidden site beneath Myr was one of the Aethyrys family's contingencies. In case of disaster, it was meant to help the descendants rise again.
Unfortunately, the Doom was a natural disaster, not a man-made one. The Aethyrys family members, along with their dragons, were buried in the eruption of the Fourteen Fires.
This semi-hidden site had remained unknown until now, becoming a windfall for the Targaryens.
Rhaegar couldn't help but smile. "The Targaryens could use a windfall like this."
After a thorough sweep, the Fearless captured all the dozens of troublemakers and detained them at the edge of the ruins. They weren't alone; the Fearless also apprehended any rebels who ventured into this part of the city, killing those who dared to resist.
In the end, these were merely poorly trained individuals. Without the advantage of numbers, they were like fish in a barrel.
Handing the fossilized dragon egg to Rhaenys, Rhaegar said, "Aunt, I'll go explore the ruins first. I'll leave this to you."
"Don't worry, I'll handle it," Rhaenys replied, examining the ancient artifacts seized from the chaotic crowd. She felt a responsibility to atone for the Myr riots and was determined to make things right.
Rhaegar reminded her, "Don't let any of them go. I have plans for them."
With that, he leapt into the deep pit.
The pit looked menacing from above, and the inside was no less intimidating. Rhaegar landed with a thud and rolled to lessen the impact.
As he touched the ground, he felt the cold black stone floor beneath his palm and smelled the stench of dried blood.
Pfft...
As he drew Truefyre from his waist, the blade of the black sword burst into flame, illuminating the path ahead. The passage was wide and deep, lit by the flickering firelight.
As Rhaegar moved forward, he found the passage surprisingly clean, though damp and cold. He walked fearlessly, his eyes sharp and focused.
Along the way, he encountered the dead bodies and traces of Dragonfire left by Caraxes. The passage led directly to an underground palace made of black stone, without any twists or turns.
The palace was not shrouded in darkness; oil lamps hung on the four walls, casting a warm glow. Rhaegar's nose twitched slightly as he caught a peculiar fishy-sweet odor. His mind raced—he had read about this in the books of the Citadel.
The Shivering Sea was home to whales and leviathans of enormous size. By processing the blubber of these creatures with blood sorcery, one could create lamp oil that lasted for a thousand years without going out.
Rhaegar was delighted. "To use such extravagant magical creations, this Dragonlord family must have been incredibly powerful," he mused.
The Targaryens were of middle to lower rank among the Dragonlords and lacked such deep heritage. Exile Aenar's situation had been dire. The Targaryens had migrated with only five dragons, and their magical artifacts were likely limited to the Valyrian steel swords, "Blackfyre" and "Dark Sister."
The Crown of Conquest and the Horned Dagger, made from rare materials, were hardly considered part of the family's heritage.
Rhaegar thought deeply. The Targaryens' migration across the Narrow Sea was probably due to more than the prophetic dreams of Daenys the Dreamer. The threat of another dragonlord family might have driven them to sell their ancestral lands and move.
He suspected that the Targaryens had failed in a power struggle with other Dragonlord families. After suffering significant losses, they had fled to Dragonstone. This theory also explained why four out of the five dragons they brought from Valyria had perished under mysterious circumstances, leaving only the young Balerion.
It was possible those four dragons had been wounded or sabotaged by their rivals.
Click!
With a kick, Rhaegar opened the lid of a black steel container. He looked down, frowning slightly.
At the entrance of the palace, there was a separate area where five oven-like containers were stacked. These containers could effectively retain heat and were used to store dragon eggs. As a child, he often held similar containers and talked to the dragon eggs inside.
Now, all five containers were lying on the ground, their dragon eggs missing. He didn't need to guess - they were undoubtedly in the hands of the people outside.
Looking deeper into the palace, Rhaegar saw rows of large crates, emptied and scattered horizontally and vertically. He sighed inwardly. "Their preparations were truly extensive."
But even the best preparations had their limits. Dragon eggs had a lifespan of a hundred years at most, and without proper preservation, they would lose their vitality within decades.
Wealth was valuable, but it had to be inherited by descendants. Had it not been for the Doom, the Aethyrys family's legacy could have made a comeback for their direct descendants.
Stepping over the container that once held the dragon eggs, Rhaegar walked to the center of the palace, where a massive cylindrical stone pillar stood.
The pillar, more than ten meters in diameter, had grooves hollowed out on the outside, filled with densely packed books.
With a sense of awe, Rhaegar gently picked up a book.
The books were made of paper and had long since weathered so badly that they crumbled at the slightest touch. Rhaegar felt a pang of pity and couldn't help but curse, "No wonder Daemon only took two books."
Those two books were made of a special parchment, far more precious and durable than ordinary paper.
Rhaegar examined the collection carefully. Almost all of the tens of thousands of categorized books had weathered, with only a small portion still readable.
"Forget it, let's keep them for now," he decided. These books, mostly biographies of Ancient Valyria and the human geography of the continent of Essos, could be recopied by maesters later.
Turning around, Rhaegar's eyes locked onto the surrounding walls of the palace. The walls, also made of black stone, were adorned with abstract murals.
A significant portion of the murals depicted dragons, detailing each stage of their lives. There were images of ancient dragons too old to fly, fierce adult giant dragons, and skinny young dragons.
Other scenes Harpies devouring people, nomads riding horses, and griffins fighting dragons for food.
The mural also featured several motifs of male and female coitus, with elaborate and complex actions. Rhaegar's eyes widened at the sight.
In the center of the mural, a particular pattern caught his attention. Two adult dragons with crowns on their heads were chasing each other, circling a disk. In the middle of the two dragons, words were inscribed in High Valyrian.
Rhaegar squinted at the inscription and exclaimed, "A Binding Magic Spell!"
(Word count: 1,429)