Daenerys thought for a moment and said, "Viserys told me some stories about families hatching dragon eggs. There doesn't seem to be a specific method. The Targaryens would place dragon eggs in the cradles of newborns. If you're lucky, it could hatch. There were also attempts to hatch dragon eggs in a high-temperature environment. After the Dance of the Dragons, no dragon eggs hatched successfully. The Targaryens tried countless methods after that. Wizards were involved, and even a king perished in the attempt."
"The tragedy of Summerhall?" Gavin interrupted immediately.
Daenerys nodded. "Yes. Viserys told me that King Aegon V prepared seven dragon eggs and tried to use wildfire to hatch them at Summerhall. But the wildfire spread out of control. King Aegon V, his eldest son, and many members of the royal family perished in the disaster, and the dragon eggs vanished without a trace."
As she spoke, Daenerys realized the immense difficulty of hatching dragon eggs, and a wave of disappointment washed over her.
Gavin fell into deep thought. "It seems the Targaryen method of hatching dragon eggs is incomplete, largely relying on luck," he murmured, recalling the records in the Dragon Lair of Belerys.
According to the stone tablet in the Dragon Cave, besides natural incubation, dragon eggs could be forcibly hatched by dragon flame if they still contained life. The ceremony didn't require any sacrifices, but the blood of the Unburnt was essential. The dragon egg would need to be immersed in a container filled with the blood of the Unburnt and then continuously burned with dragon flame. The Unburnt's blood would prevent the egg from being destroyed and absorb the magic contained in the flames.
Gavin looked up at Daenerys, offering her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, the Belerys family has a method. We can try it."
Daenerys's eyes brightened. "Really? Can we try it now?"
Gavin chuckled softly, his smile still in place. "Not quite yet. The containers required for the ceremony must be made of dragon crystal. While we have some on the ship, it's scattered across various dragon crystal mines. We'll need to go ashore, collect the necessary materials, and make the containers using dragon flame. Then, we can perform the ceremony to hatch the dragon eggs."
Daenerys nodded, suppressing her excitement. "Okay, Gavin, let's wait."
At this point, the fleet arrived at the intersection of the Strait and the Shivering Sea. The sea was turbulent, with rough waves crashing together, sending up layers of white foam.
The wind howled across the sea, stirring up massive waves. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, and distant thunder rumbled, as if the sea itself were venting its fury and mystery.
Gavin planned to head to Skane Island first and attempt to hatch the dragon eggs there.
Skane Island was a small, desolate landmass located to the northwest of Skagos Island, farther north than the Wall. The Skane people had long been raided, killed, or devoured by the Skagos people, leaving the island nearly uninhabited. It lay just a short distance from the Hardhome market at Stodd's Head, only half a day's flight away, making it an ideal stopover for Gavin and his fleet.
Meanwhile, on Bloodstone Island, a ship flying the flag of the Crowned Stag finally docked after more than a month of sailing.
As Petyr's ship slowly approached the shore, Boris, who had been alerted, was already at the docks, ready to greet him.
Petyr descended gracefully from the ship, and Boris stepped forward with a warm smile. "Dear Lord Petyr, welcome back to Bloodstone Island. I've heard you've recently been appointed Minister of Finance, and I must say, I am delighted for you! What instructions do you have for us today?"
Petyr bowed slightly, offering a polite smile. "Thank you for your kind words, Governor Boris. It's an honor to serve His Majesty the King and the Prime Minister. I am here to deliver instructions on their behalf, under the orders of the Royal Council."
Governor Boris raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Sir, please, do elaborate."
Petyr took out a finely crafted scroll, tied with gold thread, and handed it to Boris. His voice grew serious as he spoke. "From now on, tax officers will be stationed on the Stepstone Islands, following the model of the five major ports in Westeros. The taxes will be collected by the officer I've brought, and after annual assessments, they will be distributed to Sir Gavin in the corresponding proportion."
Governor Boris's face stiffened. He quickly responded, "Sir Petyr, Lord Gavin is not in the territory at the moment. I am merely the governor of Bloodstone Island, and I really have no authority to make such decisions."
Petyr shook his head slightly, his tone remaining calm yet firm. "Governor Boris, this is an order from the Royal Council. It cannot be refused."
Boris frowned, taking a moment to think. Finally, he replied, "In that case, as you wish. Your tax officer may collect the taxes, but my people must oversee the process. Also, no taxes will be removed from Bloodstone Island without final approval once Lord Gavin returns."
Petyr nodded graciously. "That will suffice for now. I appreciate your cooperation, Governor Boris."
After a brief pause, he added, "One more thing. According to the laws of the kingdom, the Stepstone Islands are prohibited from purchasing slaves. Please be vigilant on this matter."
Governor Boris frowned, nodding slowly. "I understand, Sir. I'll ensure it's noted, though implementing it will require Lord Gavin's return."
Petyr's expression turned serious. "That is to be expected, but until Lord Gavin returns, no ships transporting slaves are to enter the Stepstone Islands."
Once Petyr had been settled, Boris quickly returned to his residence. His face was grave as he summoned his men.
"Go, send someone to keep an eye on the newcomers from the ship. Don't overlook any of their movements. Report anything suspicious to me immediately. Also, send word to Commander Hassan, who's cruising near Grey Gallows Island. We cannot afford mistakes!" Boris barked.
His men responded in unison, quickly scattering to carry out his orders.
After more than ten days of sailing, the fleet finally arrived at Skane Island. The island looked bleak and desolate, with jagged rocks and sparse vegetation. The wind howled, freezing and bitter, as though it could chill the very bone.
Two warships lowered their boats, filled with soldiers, who disembarked carefully to conduct reconnaissance.
Gavin was busy as well. He summoned Syndor, took the dragon crystal prepared earlier, and mounted Syndor with Daenerys. Together, they soared into the sky, flying toward the island.
From above, the scene on the island became clearer. Large patches of exposed rock, with only a few hardy, cold-resistant plants struggling to grow, dotted the land. The distant mountain peaks were capped with snow, standing cold and majestic beneath the overcast sky.
Gavin and Daenerys, perched atop Syndor, felt the biting wind as they flew toward a cliff by the sea.