What a warm greeting!
Sadly, no one understood the situation.
"Gurgle~"
A bearded lord swallowed hard and quietly waved to the slave soldiers.
The dragon was powerful, but the lord wanted to test just how much stronger it was.
He decided to give it a try.
The slave soldiers tremblingly raised their spears, their stiff bodies betraying every move.
"Huh, what are you doing?"
Aemon was slightly startled but couldn't help being amused.
Not only did the enemy refuse to surrender, they also attacked us.
Vermithor's bronze pupils narrowed slightly, and his mouth opened to reveal jagged fangs. Acrid white smoke with the smell of sulfur emanated from his nostrils.
"We surrender!"
Unable to bear the pressure of the voice, someone shouted and knelt before the dragon.
As their knees touched the ground, the last line of defense collapsed.
"Haha, that's more like it."
Aemon patted the dragon's back and motioned for Vermithor to wait.
Vermithor closed his maw and distanced himself from the Great Lords in the audience.
He was enormous.
The highest wall of the Coliseum didn't reach his massive neck and barely reached his broad back. If he lowered his head even slightly, he would have slumped against the audience.
A searing stream of air showered the Great Lords with unerring precision from his mouth and nose.
It was hotter than steam.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
One by one, they knelt, including the Great Lords who had once considered dragons their enemies.
They knelt the fastest with the most precise posture.
Aemon smiled, having never expected these men to be so spineless.
They were like worms bred in a nest of wealth.
"Great Dragon Lord, please forgive us."
A female Great Lord knelt, deliberately bending her waist and lifting her hips to accentuate her voluptuous figure.
Those around her were not only not ashamed but also wished they were women.
Being stabbed was better than being struck by dragonfire.
"Of course, I forgive you,"
Aemon said generously, not arguing with them.
"Thank you, thank you very much, Great Dragon Lord."
The Great Lords were overjoyed, fawning over him.
"But!"
Aemon said, his smile fading.
The Great Lords shuddered, a sense of foreboding rising.
His expressionless face was etched in his voice: "I dislike the word 'Great.' It's so cheap in your mouth."
Despite training the Unsullied, the slave masters of Astapor presented themselves as benevolent masters.
The slave masters of Meereen were even more shameless.
They were a bunch of despicable slave traders who allowed themselves to be called Great Lords.
Hearing this, the Great Lords' hearts sank.
"By the way, I almost forgot to tell you something."
Aemon leaned forward a little, a mocking smile rising, as he seemed to realize something. "I don't eat beef!"
Before the Great Lords could grasp its meaning, an indelible shadow fell over them.
Vermithor leaned forward again, his dragon's mouth slightly open.
"Dracarys!"
Aemon commanded calmly.
Boom!
A billowing flame as bright as copper erupted and impacted the audience with devastating force.
The Great Lords' eyes blazed, but it was too late to cry out for mercy.
The molten copper of the dragonfire instantly transformed them into charred clay figurines that crumbled to ash in the aftermath of the explosion.
The Dothraki saw this and roared with excitement.
A piercing roar erupted.
Aemon turned and saw that the gates of the great arena were locked, preventing the Dothraki from breaking through.
He paid no heed but raised his head toward the blood-soaked Khal Orm.
"Roar!"
Vermithor growled, turning his massive body slightly and lashing out his long, thick tail like a battering ram.
The solid wooden gate offered no resistance and shattered into splinters.
"Charge!"
Orm's eyes lit up. Their horses were just outside.
At that same moment, a resounding roar erupted from the gates of Meereen.
It boomed like a volcanic eruption.
Aemon, sensing something, glanced up at the sky and caught a glimpse of a massive, dark green dragon.
Vhagar had already taken action.
"Let's go,"
Aemon said, his lips curling slightly as he patted the dragon's back.
Vermithor shook his head, crouched slightly on his hind legs, and, with a sudden flap of his wings, soared into the air. In an instant, he was in the sky.
The Great Pyramid and a Strange Discovery
The Great Pyramid.
After the Dothraki breached the gates, the rest of the city descended into chaos—a cacophony of fighting and looting.
Only the towering Great Pyramid remained calm.
That is, until a massive bronze dragon descended from the sky.
"Dragon!"
The slave soldiers guarding the city cried out in terror. Grabbing their spears, they ran around, unable to find an opportunity to strike back.
Aemon remained calm, not even needing to speak.
Vermithor's rage surged, and he unleashed a shower of dragonfire.
In an instant, the shouting ceased.
A similar scene unfolded in the eastern and western quarters of Meereen.
Vhagar and Syrax circled in the sky, commanding unchallenged air supremacy, spewing dragon flames from their lofty heights.
No matter how many slave soldiers resisted, it was futile.
In an instant, they were reduced to ash.
"Hiss!"
Aemon was about to enter the Great Pyramid to search for dragon eggs when he spotted Syrax flying toward him from afar.
"Why are you here?"
he asked.
Rhaenyra untied the chain around her waist and leaped off the dragon's back with a thud. She gasped, "The Dothraki are formidable. With Laena and Vhagar's help, they don't need my assistance."
In this era, Vhagar was the epitome of invincibility.
A massive dragon standing 140 meters tall with a ferocious and volatile temper, he was a truly invincible war machine.
Aemon had no choice but to take Rhaenyra with him into the Great Pyramid.
Meereen alone wasn't worth the combined efforts of three dragon riders.
Once inside, they witnessed the extravagance of the Great Lords.
Though the exterior was made of stone, the interior was adorned with gold.
The candlesticks on the walls were all gold.
The sheer extravagance was palpable.
"Where are we going?"
Rhaenyra asked earnestly.
A dragon rider couldn't compare to the dragons of the previous king, so finding one would have to be useful.
"I don't know,"
Aemon said flatly.
Rhaenyra paused, surprised. "How could that be like a headless fly?"
Just then, a furtive slave scurried out from the corner.
"Here comes the guide."
Aemon grinned, dashing forward and grabbing the fleeing slave.
Terrified, the slave was about to rebel.
Aemon glared and delivered two blows.
The slave's gaze cleared instantly, and he fell to his knees, releasing the pile of gold and silver he had been clutching.
He had stolen and fled.
Aemon inquired about Barbarod's chambers. Barbarod was the most powerful lord in Meereen and the master of the Great Pyramid.
Upon hearing that Aemon was referring to his master, the slave revealed everything he knew.
"He has a secret chamber where a Green Maiden is enshrined, and he has entrusted her with the newly acquired treasure for safekeeping."
The slave kowtowed, begging for mercy.
Aemon glanced back at Rhaenyra and motioned for her to turn around.
When she obeyed, he snapped the slave's neck.
"Okay, I know the location."
Aemon went to look for the secret room and the Green Maiden.
Before leaving, he placed the body thoughtfully in the corner.
Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor are all ancient Ghis empires originating from the Ghiscari people. They believe in the legendary harpy.
Where there is faith, there is naturally clergy.
Meereen is the most clearly divided, with a high priest and a group of saints wearing different veils.
Although they are called saints, they actually engage in the most humble flesh trade.
The Green Maiden is considered the most noble among them. Unlike the Red Maiden, she does not have to serve civilians and slaves, and she generally has a certain social status.
The two of them came to Barbarod's bedroom and successfully found the secret room hidden behind the wall.
Click!
After searching for a while, Aemon pressed a stone brick, and the chamber's door rumbled open.
In the dim, cramped space stood a beautiful young woman in a green gauze dress.
She had fair skin, long jet-black hair, and a fresh, refined aura.
She was clearly a top-notch beauty.
Aemon glanced around the chamber, his gaze fixed on the long ebony table in front of the Green Saint.
On the table was a collection of glass bottles and experimental instruments, each containing a dazzling array of potions.
The atmosphere felt a bit like the pseudo-magical Citadel.
But Aemon's main focus was on two other items.
A solid wooden box padded with soft hay held three oval dragon eggs. They were green, red, and creamy white with green stripes.
There were three eggs in total, their scaly shells covered in a stone crust, clearly incapable of hatching.
The key lay in the final item:
A low-legged stove that resembled a dragon's lair incubator. On top of the glowing coals was a vibrant green dragon egg.
The dragon egg was vibrant, like moss after rain.
Its scaly shell was distinct, without a trace of grayish petrification, and it exuded a faint scent of life.
Aemon was startled, sensing this life.
It was faint, like a candle in the wind.
If left unattended, it would lose its vitality within ten years.
Yet it was resilient and had survived until now.
"A special dragon species from Old Valyria?"
Aemon had a surprising thought.
Harpy Remains and a Sudden Nausea
"Ji Li Gu Lu—"
Just as he was surprised, the Green Saint's expression darkened. She pulled out a piece of broken bone and an iron chain thick as a wrist, muttering to herself.
"What is she doing?"
Rhaenyra felt an inexplicable surge of nervousness.
Aemon narrowed his eyes, sensing two familiar scents.
The palm-sized piece of bone carried the scent of the harpy.
His warhorn was said to be made from a harpy's horn, and the two had a very similar aura.
The iron chain, thick as a wrist, pulsated with a trace of lightning magic.
"Is this really true?"
Aemon wondered.
He had thought Lord Bartimos Celtigar's words were false, or at least partially true.
He hadn't expected to encounter the remains of a harpy.
Elsewhere,
The Green Saint's voice quickened as she held the two items and chanted continuously. Suddenly, a surge of magic emerged around her.
Aemon knew what was happening.
It was the brief fluctuation that appeared when mobilizing the thin magical energy in the air.
For a moment, Aemon sensed a threat.
He watched the Green Saint's face pale, but a hint of joy appeared.
It looked like the spell was about to succeed.
Swoosh!
The next second, a Valyrian steel dagger was hurled and pierced the Green Saint's throat.
"Ho ho ho..."
The Green Saint's muttering stopped, and she slowly lowered her head. Her eyes were filled with disbelief.
She had clearly been on the verge of unleashing the forbidden spell.
With a thud, the Green Saint died unwillingly, her graceful figure slamming heavily to the ground.
"You killed her?"
Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief.
She had sensed a mysterious power within the Green Saint, a terrifying awe.
"What else?"
Aemon glanced at her with disdain and muttered, "Wait until she succeeds and kills us both."
"I thought..."
Rhaenyra stammered, unable to articulate her reasoning.
Meanwhile, Aemon had gone over, bent down, and unsheathed his dragontooth dagger.
His throwing skills were as impressive as ever!
He showed no concern for the Green Saint, who died with her eyes wide open.
"They're all good stuff!"
Aemon casually picked up the broken bone and chains.
The bone was a triangular slab, like a shoulder blade or hip bone.
Aemon speculated that it was likely the remains of a harpy defeated by a dragon.
The control panel chimed:
"Discover the remains of a creature with special magical powers. Gain +3 Magical Essence."
"Discover an item imbued with special magic and gain a share of restless lightning magic."
Aemon paused as a faint current surged through the iron chain, sending a tingling sensation through his body.
The sensation was fleeting and far less intense than when he first touched the warhorn.
"Something's changed."
Aemon silently clenched his fists, and the fatigue from riding the dragon dissipated.
He glanced at the card panel.
[Magic Essence Amount: 159].
"The people of Meereen are so poor,"
Aemon said, taking advantage.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at him and went to retrieve the three petrified dragon eggs from the chest.
Aemon reached for the scorching green dragon egg in the furnace.
As soon as he touched it, the notification panel chimed again.
"Discover a magical item: Gain +3 Magical Essence."
After so much trouble, they had finally gathered all the dragon eggs from the Smoky Sea.
"Can this egg still hatch?"
Rhaenyra leaned forward, her clear purple eyes brimming with hope.
Unfazed by the heat, Aemon held the egg in his hands and examined it from side to side. He smiled and said, "Who can say?"
This dragon egg was hard to come by.
It was a lost egg from the days of Old Valyria.
Even if it cost him everything, he would hatch it. He wanted to witness the true power of a dragon imbued with the magical genes of Old Valyria.
"That's great..."
Rhaenyra was about to touch it when her expression suddenly changed, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
"What's wrong?"
Aemon was stunned.
"Nothing."
Rhaenyra shook her head vigorously as if uncomfortable speaking.
Suddenly becoming anxious, Aemon put down the dragon egg and went to support her. "Don't tell me it was a backup plan left by the Green Saint."
"Ugh!"
Rhaenyra couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she retched hard.
She didn't feel dizzy or uncomfortable in her stomach.
But she suddenly felt a little nauseous.
Aemon: ...
He stopped supporting her and looked at Rhaenyra strangely.
His eyes moved down and fell on her flat belly.
What a strong sense of déjà vu!
She had just found the dragon egg. Could she be pregnant?
---------------
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