After reading the letter, Old Bei didn't hesitate to grab the lamb chops in front of him. Holding the parchment in one hand and meat in the other, he chewed with relish.
"My father has urged me to return to King's Landing," he said between bites. "I'll be leaving tomorrow."
As the heir to the kingdom and the King's Hand, his absence was never long tolerated. Neither the King nor the Imperial Council could manage without him for too long. It had taken considerable effort to spare a few days to help Bellon transport the saplings.
He handed the letter back to Maester Arlin. "Maester, thank you for your hard work."
Viserys, seated nearby, immediately spoke up after hearing the news.
"If it's urgent, then we must refine a batch of oyster sauce tonight."
Bellon, slightly repulsed by the oil stains smudging the parchment, reluctantly accepted the letter and gave it a quick glance. Rubbing the thin paper between his fingers, he felt nothing unusual. The message was straightforward, at least on the surface.
Maester Arlin bowed politely, then retreated, disappearing around the corner.
Old Bei leaned back with a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Bellon, perhaps we should be more patient with the old man. Give him a little more time." His eyes gleamed with mischief.
Bellon offered no argument but didn't fully agree either.
In his mind, the maester was like a television in every household—so familiar and ordinary that no one would imagine it could hide something alien. Still, Bellon thought it wise to find some time to visit the Maester's Tower and learn more.
---
Preparing for Synthesis
After breakfast, Bellon returned to his room with a clear purpose: to build his first-level synthesis table.
The storm was coming, and strengthening his ability to protect himself was essential.
He pushed his desk firmly into a corner, clearing a large space in the center of the room. On the floor, he laid out his materials:
One fist-sized piece of gold
Four straight wooden rods, each a meter long
Four stones
Bellon sat cross-legged, taking a deep breath. Before crafting, he attempted the same "futile" magic meditation he had tried many times before.
Closing his eyes, he quieted his thoughts and counted his breathing rhythm. He had little expectation that it would work—yet something was different this time.
---
A Vision in the Dark
In the darkness of his mind, faint green fireflies began to flicker. They multiplied, becoming clearer and more numerous, until they resembled a sky of twinkling stars. Slowly, the lights formed a warm, flowing river of energy moving through his body.
A gentle rhythm filled his ears—at first, like the soft gurgle of a brook. Gradually, it grew louder and deeper until it roared in his mind like a waterfall.
Then, within the dark space, a colossal flame appeared—bright as the sun and pulsing like a beating heart. The warmth was intense, yet it carried a pressure that made his own heartbeat race.
Curiosity drew him closer.
Suddenly, enormous bronze vertical pupils snapped open. Bellon froze. It felt as though he had been locked onto by a predator. A suffocating aura pressed down on him.
Those eyes… they were familiar.
Recognition struck an instant before a deafening roar shattered the silence. The dragon's cry shook the dark world itself, sending shockwaves through his consciousness.
---
Awakening
Bellon gasped and opened his eyes. His vision slowly refocused, and he realized something extraordinary—he had successfully channeled magic power on his own.
A grin split his face, and he pumped his fist in triumph. But before he could stand, a sharp tingling invaded his legs, forcing him to hiss through clenched teeth. It seemed his meditation had lasted much longer than it had felt.
As the numbness faded, his mind returned to the vision. Those eyes belonged to Vhagar. Had he somehow connected with the dragon's consciousness?
Riders and dragons could sense each other's states—pain, injury, or even death—but this… this was different. Usually, the bond was one-sided in the dragon's favor. But this felt like a two-way link.
---
Crafting the Synthesis Table
Eager to test his newfound magic control, Bellon extended a hand toward the materials on the floor. Energy flowed out of him like a steady stream of water.
In the next moment, with a muffled bang, a strange-looking machine stood before him.
It was as tall as he was, perched on a sturdy three-legged stool. Its body was rough stone, with a long handle on one side and a pair of crude wooden gears on the other. Its construction was simple—almost childlike—but its presence filled the room with purpose.
The moment Bellon stepped within a meter of the table, his mind cleared, and magical formulas surfaced as if whispered directly into his thoughts.
---
The First Tool – Shovel
One recipe caught his attention:
[Shovel] – Materials: Branches × 2, Stone × 2
He poured magic into the ingredients, and in an instant, a sturdy shovel appeared in his hands. Tapping the stone blade with his knuckles, he examined the details:
[Shovel] – Damage: 20. Can transplant plants, dig graves and caves. Durability: 100%
Bellon's eyes lit up at the mention of grave-digging. Targaryen tradition dictated that deceased family members were cremated with dragonfire on Dragonstone. Who knew what treasures the ashes of his ancestors might hide?
Still, he'd need a weapon—graves sometimes hid angry spirits. And he wasn't about to harm a living person for the sake of a dead one.
---
The Weapon – Spear
He chose his next recipe:
[Spear] – Materials: Branches × 2, Stone × 1, Rope × 1
[Spear] – Damage: 40. Durability: 100%
Testing it, he struck the spear against an iron sword. The sword's edge chipped, but the stone spearhead remained untouched, dropping only to 99% durability. System-made tools, it seemed, were far more resilient than normal ones.
---
The Cooking Pot
Lastly, he synthesized a large cooking pot. It appeared in the center of the room—sturdy, black, and lidless.
Bellon dropped in a piece of monster meat, then plucked three grapes from a fruit bowl and tossed them inside.
With a sudden clang, the pot's lid appeared and sealed itself shut. A fiery red glow shone through the gaps as crackling noises filled the air.
After about fifteen seconds, the lid vanished, revealing three enormous meatballs—each larger than a man's face.
[Meatball] – HP +3, Satiety +60, Spirit +5
---
Experimenting with Food
Curious, Bellon decided to experiment with real-world ingredients. He placed four tiny grapes into the pot. After a short wait, a washbasin-sized portion of bright red jam appeared on a porcelain plate.
[Jam] – HP +3, Satiety +37, Spirit +5
The difference in description between "Add" and "Reply" intrigued him. To test it, he bit into a meatball.
As expected, the system panel shifted:
HP: 153 (+3)
Satiety: 100 (+60)
Spirit: 205 (+5)
However, after the second bite, the meatball lost all magical bonuses, functioning only as ordinary food.
It reminded him of the mythical Devil Fruits—single-use magical effects that vanished after the first consumption.
Still, their filling power made them valuable. Fishermen could enjoy them as hearty snacks, even without magic.
---
Ambitions
Bellon flipped through the cookbook, dazzled by the endless recipes. If he synthesized and ate one of each magical dish, his stats would skyrocket. Perhaps he could become not just the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, but the strongest man alive.
His daydream was interrupted by a sudden, urgent knocking.
"Prince! Prince Viserys requests your presence at the beach—he says a pot of oysters is ready!"
Bellon blinked in surprise. "Already?"
It seemed meditation truly warped one's sense of time. He glanced at the monster meat in his inventory.
If Valyria's secrets were tied to this strange material, then the key to unlocking them might be closer than he thought.