"Wildfire?"
That's more than just a dangerous item.
Aemon looked at this group of so-called pyromancers and asked, "Who do you work for?"
The crowd was agitated, and a bearded monk was chosen to speak. He had a shaved head, strange tattoos all over his face, and a braided brown beard.
The bearded monk didn't dare to look at anyone and said in a muffled voice, "We once worked for the former Tyrosh Grand Lord, making secret weapons for him to retake the city-state."
What happened afterward wasn't so important. Halfway through making the wildfire, the former Tyrosh Grand Lord was killed by his impatient subordinates. This group of pyromancers lost their employer and, unable to offend the fierce pirates, they hid in the cave and continued to make wildfire. Their plan was to sell it to other rich people in exchange for money.
"Stupid!" Aemon was disdainful. Wildfire is extremely lethal, and it can ignite anything, continuing to burn until everything is consumed. But wildfire itself is very unstable. Even when stored in special wooden barrels and laid on fine sand during transport to reduce bumps, the risk is still very high. Not to mention the waves that may rise at any time on the sea—even a bumpy carriage road could easily trigger an explosion. A certain king in the future did such a stupid thing with long-distance transportation. After a single explosion, he learned his lesson.
"Great Dragon Lord, please forgive us," the bearded monk fell to his knees with a thud, followed by a total of sixteen pyromancers kneeling in a row.
Aemon said nothing and looked down at them. He was considering whether it was necessary to keep these guys. To be able to create wildfire, they must have real skill. Because of that, they also carried a potential threat. He could have magic, Targaryens could have dragons, but others couldn't. Wealth is not wealth if it isn't monopolized.
"Great Dragon Lord, we are willing to serve you and create a killer weapon that burns everything." The bearded monk shuddered and immediately expressed his loyalty. Before entering the door, he had seen the miserable state of the pirates on the island. All their heads were chopped off and hung on the beach with spears.
"What kind of witchcraft do you know?" Aemon suddenly asked. The dragonlords of ancient Valyria had all recruited pyromancers into their service. They even let the children of their families learn one or two kinds of witchcraft. After the Doom, dragons became the only remaining magic of ancient Valyria. If he wanted to restore the glory of Valyria, he needed to absorb some of its nutrients.
"In addition to making wildfire, I know a kind of Lighting magic," the bearded monk said quickly.
Aemon's eyes lit up. "Demonstrate it once."
The bearded monk looked embarrassed and hesitated to act. It turned out most witchcraft, besides wildfire, required props.
"Hurry up and get it," Aemon waved his hand. He had pure dragonlord blood and fire magic flowing in his veins. But he didn't even know how to mobilize it. This was a good time to learn.
Koen stepped back and quickly ordered people to bring two large wooden boxes. Treasure chest-style, each about a meter in diameter.
"Your Majesty, please wait a moment." The bearded monk rummaged through the boxes and took out two one-foot-long glass candles. He muttered something, and the candles lit up.
"Hey, there's something here." Aemon observed carefully.
Koen stretched out his arm to stop him, his bronze armor acting like a barrier to shield His Majesty.
"Haha, don't be so nervous," Aemon laughed. "So, where's the light?" He had seen glass candles before. There were two on Dragonstone, and Grand Maester Mellos also had one. He'd heard that the final test in the Citadel's occult studies was lighting one.
Puff!
As soon as he finished speaking, the glass candle's flame suddenly jumped up a foot. In an instant, a dazzling white light flared. It vanished as quickly as it came. The bearded monk's face flushed red, sweat soaking his red robe.
"Is that... it?" Aemon was stunned.
"Yes, Your Majesty. That's light," the bearded monk panted heavily.
Aemon: ...
He seems to have met a fraud. Was that a flash bomb? Aemon frowned, suspecting the monk had used phosphorus.
"Your Majesty, please don't doubt us," the bearded monk said bitterly with a miserable face. "Since the Doom, the magic we can use has become increasingly thin. It's only because we're near a dragon that the illumination spell works at all."
In short—one word: miserable.
Aemon was speechless. Why should he support a group of people when a single candle could do the job? If they were in River Valley Town, they'd all be digging coal in Raven Ridge.
"Your Majesty, please give us a chance." Knowing his abilities were weak, the bearded monk turned around and dug into the bottom of another box. Silver kettles, obsidian daggers, rune-engraved bracelets... a bunch of strange, ancient items.
"These are all magic items we've collected over the years. They may have lost their effects with time, but they're all genuine." The bearded monk offered up his treasures.
Aemon examined them one by one. No reaction. No response...
Eight or nine times in a row, nothing triggered the [Magic Essence Panel]. Aemon frowned. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a panel prompt.
"Found an item containing magic. Gain Magic Essence +10."
Aemon's eyes lit up. Finally, something useful. He looked down and found a round ring in his hand. The ring was black, with a layer of yellow-brown rust covering it. At a glance, it looked like a lump of iron.
Aemon scratched it with his fingernail and instantly recognized the feel. "Valyrian steel ring!" Under the rust, the material was rare Valyrian steel.
"Your Majesty has a keen eye for treasure." The bearded monk's eyes flashed with pain.
Aemon caught the look and asked, "Do you know the origin of this ring?" This was probably the only treasure in that whole pile of junk.
The bearded monk hesitated, then, under the stern gaze of the Rune Guard, trembled and said: "This is a relic of the Dragon Lord. It was sealed with a powerful curse and we couldn't open it."
"Dragon Lord's relic!?" Aemon thought he misheard.
"Yes, Great Dragon King," the bearded monk returned to the old name and sighed. "There is a secret inside this ring, but it can only be opened by a specific person."
"Anyone else who tries will be struck by a terrible curse."
"What kind of curse?" Aemon lifted the ring and studied it with fascination. Valyrian steel wasn't supposed to rust.
"It causes a burning fever," the bearded monk said seriously. "Some of us tried to unseal it with magic or blood. Their bodies felt like they were on fire, and their internal organs were roasted dry."
"Do you know how to unseal it?" Aemon's attention was fixed on the ring. The more he looked at it, the more he felt it was calling to him. An inexplicable sense that he could unlock it.
"I have a preliminary understanding: you must infuse fire magic and perform a blood sacrifice," the bearded monk explained. According to him, the most concentrated magic in this world was fire. Forests had the breath of life, rivers the water element, and the far North had cold ice... Pyromancers and most blood mages were all believers in fire magic.
And blood sacrifice is the most primitive and cruel way of casting spells. The conditions are harsh and not suitable for learning.
"I am not interested in blood sacrifice, tell me how to mobilize fire magic," Aemon interrupted directly, not wanting to hear anything else.
"Yes, great Dragon King." The bearded monk did not dare to hide anything and asked him to light the glass candle. If it lights, it proves the communication is successful. If not, continue to practice.
"It's really a simple and crude method." Aemon's mouth twitched, but he chose to listen. He closed his eyes and thought.
Puff!!
The next second, the glass candle burned, and the flame soared a foot high. This height was comparable to the bearded monk exhausting all his strength to perform the illumination spell.
The bearded monk was shocked!!
"It's just so-so." Aemon opened his eyes and asked for the method to perform the illumination spell. It's not difficult—just compress the flame and then make it explode, creating a flash of light.
"One, two..." Aemon closed his eyes and counted softly.
Koen's pupils suddenly shrank, and he quickly shut his eyes and covered them.
Swish!
When Aemon counted to three, the glass candle suddenly burst into dazzling light. In broad daylight, it lit up an area of ten meters in radius.
"Ah!!"
The pyromancers, busy watching the "miracle," screamed in pain from the brightness. Several of the weaker ones fainted on the spot.
"Haha, I understand!" Aemon withdrew his magic and smiled happily. He left the pyromancers rolling in tears and quickly returned to Dragonblood Castle.
Koen opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, he dodged quickly—otherwise, he would've been blinded.
Aemon returned to Dragonblood Castle, closed the door, and sat alone. He found a wine glass and dropped the ring into it.
Swish!
He took out the dragon tooth dagger, cut open his finger, and let bright drops of blood fall into the glass. Soon, the glass was half full.
Aemon closed his eyes and dipped his finger inside. The fire magic in his blood flowed and merged into the ring.
Pop~~
The yellow-brown rust cracked and fell to the bottom of the glass. The black ring began to fade, returning to the original silver-gray color of Valyrian steel, full of fascinating mystery.
Until this moment, the ring revealed its true form. The shape was that of a giant dragon connected head to tail. The entire body was silver-gray, the ring itself thin. The dragon's head was close to the tail, and tiny scales were engraved with mysterious Valyrian runes. The dragon's eyes were two rice-sized rubies, lifelike and gleaming with a final touch.
"Space item."
Aemon pinched the dragon-shaped ring and sensed a storage space of three cubic meters. Inside were many ancient gold coins and some rare minerals he had never seen before. And a pile of books, neatly placed in one corner.
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