"Hiss… Creak…"
The Devourer finally calmed down, closing its vertical pupils and avoiding looking at its rider.
The sudden appearance of the dragon-taming tool inexplicably provoked resistance from this wild Dragon King.
If the item weren't in the rider's hands, given its ruthless nature, it would have already torn it to shreds with a single bite.
Rega found it amusing and rubbed against the jet-black scales.
He understood why the Devourer was reacting this way.
The black whip was an ancient dragon-taming tool known as the Dragon-Taming Whip.
According to the ancient texts found alongside it in the spatial necklace, the Dragon-Taming Whip was one of the few effective tools for taming dragons.
Its fundamental value even exceeded that of a spatial artifact.
The Fitznick family, with its noble and ancient lineage, possessed several spatial artifacts but only two dragon-taming tools.
One of them was hidden in the spatial necklace, left for future generations to use.
And the function of the Dragon-Taming Whip was extraordinary.
The whip's material was unknown, and its craftsmanship was a closely guarded secret of fire warlocks and blood sorcerers.
When lashed against a dragon, the whip inflicted excruciating pain that penetrated even its scales.
The handle was engraved with eerie inscriptions that allowed for the temporary control of dragons, an effect that worked even better when combined with binding spells.
The Fitznick family used the Dragon-Taming Whip to enhance the efficiency of their descendants in taming young dragons.
With a single lash, young dragons could barely endure the pain.
If an internal conflict erupted within the family and a dragon lost its rider, falling into chaos, the Dragon-Taming Whip could also serve to pacify it—
Preventing the dragon from rampaging and attacking indiscriminately.
However, the Dragon-Taming Whip was merely a tool for taming, and it must never be used excessively to enslave dragons.
Otherwise, with intelligence rivaling that of humans, dragons would inevitably rebel.
There was once a recorded case in history where a dragon rider abused his dragon with the whip—only to be torn apart within days.
Rega embraced the Devourer's snout and softly reassured it, "Don't worry, even if you're a dragon-eater, I won't whip you."
The Devourer's vertical pupils flickered with a trace of surprise.
Rega chuckled. "You're not exactly honest. You might not even be a native dragon of Dragonstone Isle."
Several ancient books were stored in the spatial necklace, containing valuable knowledge.
One of them detailed perspectives on dragons consuming their own kind.
Dragons were creatures with an extremely strong sense of territoriality.
Under normal circumstances, even if two dragons lived as neighbors, they wouldn't disturb each other.
Unless a conflict broke out and one was wounded—consuming the corpse of its own kind could help it recover.
Another possibility was that something was inherently wrong with the dragon itself.
Some dragons were born with a taste for their own kind, constantly seeking opportunities to steal dragon eggs and hunt young dragons.
Such dragons were known as "Dragon-Eaters."
The ancient texts only mentioned Dragon-Eaters briefly, yet with striking emphasis.
Two key points stood out:
1. Dragon-Eaters grew faster and were stronger in combat.
2. Once discovered, they were to be executed immediately.
For good reason—
The presence of a single Dragon-Eater could lead to a massive decline in the newborn dragon population.
A mid-ranked Dragon King family once suffered such a fate.
Their clan initially had over twenty dragons and a reserve of dozens of dragon eggs in Fire Peak.
But within just over a decade, several young dragons died mysteriously, and not a single egg remained.
By the time they realized the threat of the Dragon-Eater, they had to sacrifice several dragons in a siege just to take it down.
This incident devastated the family. They plummeted from mid-rank to lower mid-rank.
With no new dragon eggs to hatch, they eventually fell to the bottom ranks.
It took decades and the hatching of new dragon eggs before they could claw their way back to the lower end of the mid-tier.
A lesson learned the hard way.
Since then, Dragon-Eaters had been universally condemned and hunted down.
In many sieges against Dragon-Eaters, the Dragon-Taming Whip played a crucial role in temporarily controlling dragons.
The Devourer, being a known dragon-eater, must have sensed the threat.
Rega found it both amusing and exasperating but didn't resent the Devourer for its nature.
After so many years as partners, neither of them had the right to judge the other.
Dragon-Eaters were despised not just because of the zero-tolerance policy on cannibalism—
But also due to their vile temperament.
They showed no mercy to the Dragon King bloodlines that tried to tame them, leaving them either dead or crippled.
They ate dragons but refused to be tamed—a pure menace.
However, the Devourer was his dragon. It had restrained its desire to eat dragons for all these years.
"Hiss… Creak…"
Sensing Rega's thoughts, the Devourer's green vertical pupils flashed with cunning as it turned away, arrogantly ignoring him.
It seemed to be saying:
How do you know whether I've secretly eaten a dragon behind your back?
Rega: …
His face darkened slightly, and he clenched his fists.
After taming the Devourer for ten years, only one Blizzard Dragon had hatched on Dragonstone Isle.
The thought sent shivers down his spine.
Terrifying. Truly terrifying.
Tessarion's hatching site was the Dragon Pit in King's Landing, so it didn't count as part of Dragonstone Isle.
Rega gritted his teeth. "One hatchling in ten years is still… within the normal range."
As a qualified dragon rider, how could he doubt his own dragon?
Rhaegar smiled kindly. "Glutton, from now on, you'll stay in the Dragonpit. Dragonstone has changed hands."
"What, are you worried it eats dragons?"
Rhaenys crossed her arms, a playful smile in her eyes.
Rhaegar's expression became serious, and he didn't respond.
Rhaenys added with a smirk, "Silverwing is a fertile she-dragon, but she's been in deep slumber for years with no sign of laying eggs."
"I understand, Aunt."
Rhaegar rubbed his forehead.
Fortunately, Glutton had been much more restrained.
Shaking his head, Rhaegar decided to think of something more pleasant.
An idea struck him, and he pulled up the Explorer's Panel.
[Lost Dragon-Taming Artifacts]
Exploration Progress: 10% (Paused)
[Valyrian Steel Spatial Necklace]
Exploration Progress: 15%
Two ancient relics had triggered two additional exploration quests.
The corners of Rhaegar's lips curled slightly as he thought, Completing the Binding Hex and luckily obtaining the Dragon-Whip was already fortunate enough.
Who knew what other relics the Explorer might uncover?
"Whoa~~"
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a group of elite cavalry carrying banners emblazoned with the three-headed red dragon rushed toward him.
At the front were two men—Robb of the Second Sons and William of House Royce.
Upon seeing Rhaegar, both men's faces lit up with joy. They quickly dismounted and knelt on one knee.
"Your Highness, the city's unrest has been quelled. We await your command."
Rhaegar, ever composed, asked, "How many men did we lose?"
A newly conquered city was bound to face rebellions.
The key was to avoid reckless losses of their own forces.
Robb's expression darkened. "The uprising was sudden. The Second Sons lost over a hundred men, the Unsullied lost more than five hundred, and the Vale knights suffered around eight hundred casualties."
William also looked grim, bowing his head in guilt.
After capturing Myr, their forces had implemented a rotation system to maintain order in the city.
Half of the fallen soldiers had been off-duty, enjoying themselves in small groups when the rioters brutally beat them to death.
Hearing this, Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he glanced at the hundreds of rebels detained by the Unsullied.
Two thousand Unsullied, two thousand Vale knights, and eight hundred Second Sons.
Losing over a fifth of their forces in a single uprising was no small matter.
Keeping his face unreadable, Rhaegar issued his order. "Eliminate the old nobles who incited the rebellion. As for the rebels who refuse to submit, arrest them all."
Robb hesitated. "Your Highness, there are a lot of them."
On their way here, the streets had been packed with rioters—at least several thousand, if not more than ten thousand.
Rhaegar shot him a sharp look. "Then arrest them. Anyone carrying a weapon is not to be spared."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Robb accepted the command and quickly set off.
Rhaegar turned his gaze to the hundreds of captured rebels and addressed Grey Worm. "Detain them all. We'll deal with them at dawn."
Grey Worm nodded in understanding.
During the riot, he had been patrolling the streets and had nearly been killed by the armed rebels.
As a former Unsullied, he had no mercy for those who had tried to kill him.
As night deepened, Rhaegar stepped out of the ruins and made his way forward.
The governor's mansion covered a vast area. Though the main buildings had collapsed, the outer gardens remained intact.
Rhaenys strode after him, frowning. "Rhaegar, how do you plan to handle this?"
The Myr uprising had been fueled by the old nobles' manipulation and the blind allegiance of the common folk.
Behind the scenes, it was easy to see Braavos's hand at work, supplying weapons in large quantities.
Rhaegar's expression was complex as he thought of the more than a thousand fallen soldiers. He muttered to himself, "To pacify a land, there are only two ways—death or profit."
His tone was casual, but there was a chilling undercurrent.
Rhaenys' brows knitted together, concerned that the bloodshed might be excessive.
---
### The Next Day
The sky was a brilliant blue, and the sea breeze carried the scent of smoke.
At Myr's harbor, the Fish Market Square was packed with people.
A thousand Unsullied and a thousand Vale knights maintained order, surrounding the square, which reeked of fish, in tight layers.
Most of the crowd consisted of raggedly dressed slaves, huddled together in fear.
In the front rows, nearly a thousand commoners—men and women, young and old—knelt on the ground, bound.
Further ahead, on a raised platform of mud-brown stone bricks, several dozen noble men and women, dressed in fine clothes, were forced to their knees, their hands tied behind their backs.
After days of turmoil, judgment day had arrived.
Screeeeech!
A deep, bell-like roar echoed through the harbor.
A massive black dragon soared in the sky, its vast wings casting a shadow over the crowd.
Gulp…
Looking at the colossal dragon, as massive as a mountain, even the innocent slaves tensed up, instinctively swallowing their saliva.
One battle in the Stepstones, one war in the Narrow Sea.
The mighty name of Deathwing spread across the continent of Essos, just like the Black Death God looming over Westeros.
"Hiss—Caw..."
A crimson dragon burst out of the city-state, spiraling alongside the black dragon.
Like twin dragons dancing in the sky.
For a while, the two dragons circled before descending together.
Boom—
Massive talons crushed the port's wooden floor as the gluttonous beast spread its wings for support, resembling a coal-black mountain.
"Roar!"
Slowly lifting its head, the dragon let out a low, menacing growl.
In an instant, wherever its emerald-green vertical pupils passed, an eerie chill filled the air, carrying a soul-piercing gleam.
"Glutton, that's enough."
Rhaegar sat steadily on the dragon's back, feeling rather pleased.
Just as he was about to dismount, a voice echoed in his ears.
"Exploration complete. Please collect the lost treasure."
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow as the system panel appeared before him.
[Lost Dragon-Taming Artifact]
Exploration Progress: 100%
"It's done. Just a bit slower than the spatial necklace."
Suppressing the slight upward curl of his lips, Rhaegar scanned his surroundings.
At his waist, true fire hung on one side, while a dragon-whip was tied to the other.
To his right, a red, watermelon-sized orb of light hovered, bobbing gently in the air beside the saddle.
Already familiar with this, Rhaegar reached out and lightly poked it.
Pop—
A soft, squishy sensation met his touch as the red glow burst, transforming into a cluster of red light specks that shimmered and seeped into his hand.
"Item successfully collected. Analyzing..."
"Analysis complete. Identified as a Legendary Relic—Ashes of Firepeak."
"As expected, it's legendary. No surprise—it's a dragon-taming artifact passed down for generations."
Rhaegar felt a surge of excitement as an image of a shattered scale named Ashes of Firepeak appeared in his mind.
With a mere thought, the scale materialized in his hand.
The scale was entirely bronze in color, though only half of it remained intact, about the size of an adult's palm.
It bore a striking resemblance to the Dragon's Legacy obtained from Balerion's skull—both carried an ancient aura, weathered by time.
As Rhaegar examined the scale, the system panel provided a prompt.
"Flickering flames, a song of shadows."
"Two hearts as one, Ashes of Firepeak."
(End of Chapter)