Chapter 82: Exploration of Dragon Cave (2)
Bypassing the sealed bronze doors, Ian and his men found their way into the Dragonpit's interior through a gaping hole in a collapsed wall.
After squeezing through the gap beneath a massive, teetering boulder, Ian emerged into what could only be described as a hall.
His first reaction upon entering was a sudden, biting cold.
They were still in the midst of a long summer, yet as Ian stepped inside—clad in a silk shirt, plate armor, and a thick robe—a violent shudder ran through him.
The hall was vast and empty, shockingly so. It stretched for more than a hundred meters in both length and width, with the remnants of its walls soaring twenty to thirty meters high. There was nothing inside; the sheer vacancy gave one an inexplicable feeling of profound loneliness.
After crossing the first hall, Ian and his group entered another, identical chamber.
It was only then that he realized these cavernous spaces, larger than the great halls of any castle in Westeros, were merely 'dragon cells'—chambers built to house a single dragon.
Ian couldn't help but recall a passage Quentyn Martell had read in the original books, one that claimed the confinement of the Dragonpit stunted the growth of the dragons within. No dragon bred there ever reached the size of the legends like Vhagar or Meraxes, and all were far smaller than Balerion the Black Dread.
Seeing these 'dragon rooms' firsthand, Ian began to doubt the records Quentyn had read. While Balerion might not have fit, these chambers were more than large enough to house Meraxes or a younger Vhagar.
Perhaps what truly limited the dragons' growth wasn't the size of their dens, but the fact that they could no longer fly freely in the open sky.
"Spread out," Ian ordered after they had walked for some time. "Search everywhere. We're looking for an entrance to an underground passage."
He said it calmly, but he knew it was a monumental task.
The Dragonpit was immense, and most of it lay buried under rubble. Finding the specific tunnel he imagined—one that led all the way to Flea Bottom—was going to be exceedingly difficult.
Fortunately, he had advantages other players did not: time and manpower.
As the mercenaries dispersed, Ian took a torch from Rohr's hand. Only Rohr, Case, and Bronn remained at his side.
They soon located a spiral staircase. After Ian confirmed there was breathable air below, they descended, following the stairs deep into the earth.
Four torches cast a flickering, orange glow that pushed back the oppressive darkness, while the sound of their footsteps echoed unnervingly down the long stone corridor.
Ian held his torch close to the wall, illuminating faded gray murals that depicted scenes of dragons and their trainers.
They followed the corridor until it terminated in a solid stone wall. Standing before it were several suits of armor covered in a thick layer of dust, like silent, forgotten sentinels.
The armor was crafted from blackened steel, the helms inlaid with dragon scales. Ian reached out to touch one, hoping to salvage a piece or two, but it was a fool's hope. The armor was rusted through. At his lightest touch, it disintegrated into a fine powder.
"It's a dead end," Bronn announced after checking the surrounding area. "No other passages here."
The news was disappointing, but it wasn't the first piece of bad news Ian had received that night.
His force of more than twenty men had searched for half the night and found absolutely nothing.
They had explored a total of forty-four cellars and eighteen underground corridors. They had even found two secret tunnels, but neither led in the direction of Flea Bottom, and both were empty.
Still, this was all within Ian's expectations. The Dragonpit was enormous and had been a ruin for years.
He had come prepared, bringing enough wine and food to last for several days of searching.
After all, searching here was still a far less daunting task than trying to find a hidden tunnel exit somewhere in the chaotic maze of Flea Bottom.
That night, a familiar notification appeared in his mind: the player count, which had been stagnant for days, had ticked down to sixty-eight.
The next day, Ian and his men resumed their operation. This time, they scoured every searchable section of the entire ruin.
He finally found the jars of wildfire mentioned in the histories, but there was still no sign of any tunnels.
The lack of progress made Ian wonder if the tunnel's entrance within the Dragonpit had been buried beneath collapsed stone.
But to verify that theory, they would have to start clearing the rubble—a massive undertaking that would rely entirely on blind luck. It was an option Ian was unwilling to take.
He also found it hard to believe the system would design the mission that way.
If the clues sold in the shop pointed to the Dragonpit, then its tunnel entrance should be easier to find than the one in Flea Bottom. If the Dragonpit entrance required clearing tons of debris just to be discovered, then the clues themselves were worthless.
So Ian ordered his men to re-search all the areas they had already explored, this time focusing on blind spots and potential hidden mechanisms.
The search soon bled into the third day. There was still no progress. Another notification arrived: last night, the number of remaining players had dropped to sixty-seven.
Ian knew he couldn't hoard his points any longer. He accessed the point shop and purchased the fourth clue.
[Transaction successful. Fourth bounty mission clue acquired: (Holy). Remaining points: 10.]
Ian stared at the final clue, a headache building behind his eyes. He had now spent a total of fifteen points on clues for this one bounty.
If he found the box, the cost would be more than justified. But if he failed, it would be a colossal waste.
Unfortunately, this last piece of information didn't seem to provide the breakthrough he needed.
The word [Holy] seemed to point only to the Dragonpit, a place he was already searching.
Of course, the Dragonpit itself had nothing to do with the word. Its significance came from the holy site upon which it had been built: the Sept of Remembrance.
During the reign of Aenys I Targaryen, the Faith of the Seven launched a rebellion, later called the Faith Militant uprising, unable to tolerate the Targaryen practice of incestuous marriage, among other grievances.
In the early days of the conflict, the church's two military orders—the Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows—had succeeded in driving the royal family from King's Landing. However, the rebellion was eventually crushed by the overwhelming power of the Targaryen dragonriders.
Aenys's successor, Maegor the Cruel, descended upon the Hill of Rhaenys astride Balerion the Black Dread. He unleashed dragonflame upon the Sept of Remembrance, burning it to the ground and incinerating thousands of the faithful inside, including seven hundred elite Warrior's Sons.
Afterward, Maegor I ordered the scorched ruins of the sept cleared away, and upon its ashes, he built the Dragonpit.
The ruin where Ian now stood, a combination of the former Sept of Remembrance and the Dragonpit, was an undeniable match for three of the clues: [Death], [Ruins], and [Holy]. It even fit [Underground].
*Wait a minute… Underground?*
Suddenly, a jolt went through him, like a key turning a long-stuck lock. He saw it all. He finally understood.
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