"Impossible!" Pyat Pree's face grew agitated, his face pale, his lips blue. "The heart of the Undying Ones, one of the origins of Qarthian magic, they relied on this to live for so long in the House of the Undying. How could it be useless? How did those illusions and shadows fail to deceive you!" The craving and covetousness for the Dracarys had driven him and the Undying Ones mad, never expecting such a nightmare.
"Do you also possess a gem that resists magic? But this is the Heart of the Undying Ones! How could it be resisted! No, you are also a sorcerer, and a very clever one. Therefore, the illusions only saw your past, but never your future. You shielded yourself from magical scrutiny!" Pyat Pree came up with a terrifying hypothesis, and if it were true, everything made sense. He had planned a beautiful ending: the Prince would be deceived by him, and with the dragon absent, it was the perfect time to execute his magical plot.
"The past is gone, why be greedy and look at the future? Magic, blood, and fire are merely small tricks!" Rhaegar pointed his finger, and azure flames coiled around it, like a sprite on his fingertip. Inside the room, the extinguished fires brightened again, soaring upwards. Fire magic, the bane of all shadows. The Undying Ones were not that terrifying; Daenerys had no magic, yet her dragon saw through the illusion and burned down the House of the Undying with a single blaze. How much more powerful was Rhaegar?
"You! Sorcerer of blood and fire, you are a true Dragonlord! Have you been to the ruins of Valyria? But no one who has gone there has survived. Could you have been possessed by a demon?" The ancient Valyrian Dragonlords possessed terrifying sorcery, but the remaining Targaryen Dragonlords did not. Everyone had forgotten that terrible past, where Dragonlords used dragons and magic to destroy everything.
"Assassin!" The tent burst into bright light, and Rhaegar's voice was like steel. Those waiting outside immediately rushed in: the Qarthian delegation, several of Rhaegar's subordinates, and then the guards who arrived upon hearing the commotion.
Everyone watched the scene before them in horror: a terrifying withered heart pulsed inside a cedar wood box, emitting a chilling blue light with every beat. The silver-haired Prince in black was gripping the pale Warlock's throat, treating him like a sacrificial lamb.
"The Warlock was using the living heart of a dead man to bewitch me, and even wanted to sign an evil contract with me!" Rhaegar threw the Warlock aside, and Pyat Pree fell weakly to the ground. Rhaegar stepped back slightly and drew Orphan-Maker with lightning speed. Cesar breathed a sigh of relief; he had genuinely worried the Prince had been tricked by the Warlock.
Cesar and Joffrey Arryn also drew their longswords and pressed them against the Warlock's neck. Subsequently, dozens of elite royal escort soldiers rushed in, brandishing their weapons fiercely, making the scene extremely tense.
"You foreign sorcerers, you blue-lipped devils, the Others should smash your bodies to pieces! How dare you try to assassinate our Prince?!" Thrimm grabbed his saber and was the first to hack the withered heart into fragments. The remaining Shade of the Evening water inside the box was also smashed.
Pyat Pree knew he could not escape death, so he remained silent.
The Qarthian delegation turned ashen. Seeing the Warlock in this state, the accusation must be true. This was not Qarth; even if Qarthian warships and merchant ships came to rescue them, it would take about half a year even with favorable winds—half a world away. What chance did they have? The handsome prince before them was heroic and dashing, but also a notorious Killing God. The Qarthian merchants certainly didn't believe their heads were tougher than a khal's!
"This matter has nothing to do with us, it was the Warlock's sudden decision!" The four Qarthian envoys immediately began to distance themselves, prioritizing saving their own lives. No one in the world doesn't cherish life. They hadn't expected this adventure to Westeros to be fraught with peril and crisis. They never thought the Warlock would ruin everything, causing them to nearly lose their heads in Westeros.
"It was you! You are of the royal house, and you were the one who introduced the Warlock just now!" the Thirteen began to point fingers at the royal descendant.
"It wasn't me! I don't know this Warlock at all... He just made a request to us. And you all agreed when they boarded the ship!" The Qarthian woman nearly cried. The royal house and the Warlocks usually kept their distance, but they couldn't completely ignore the Warlock's reputation. Qarthians regarded Warlocks with a mix of fear and disdain, but no one expected this Warlock to go completely insane and cast magic against a Dragonlord.
"Tell me, who ordered you? Perhaps you can still have a whole body! My patience is limited." Rhaegar asked the Warlock. He waved his hand, and the black Orphan-Maker shimmered with ripples under the lamplight.
"It was just me, only my personal greed!" The Warlock gritted his teeth, preparing to resist to the end.
"It seems you intend to be stubborn to the bitter end!" Rhaegar looked at the Warlock. Pyat Pree was probably only tough with his mouth. Rhaegar knew what the withered heart represented: the Undying Ones, the old sorcerers of the House of the Undying. Who else could be involved besides these sorcerers? Rhaegar thought for a moment; perhaps it was also a plan by the Braavosi, testing the waters.
"According to the laws of Westeros, what is the penalty for attacking a member of the royal family?" Rhaegar asked Jeff. This was a cruel and terrifying era.
"The lightest is losing a hand, the heaviest is beheading!" Jeff replied. In Westeros, the punishment for attacking royalty is extremely severe. Since the Warlock deliberately used sorcery to murder the Prince, the penalty would certainly be the heaviest: beheading.
"Sign this!" Rhaegar ordered someone to bring paper for the Warlock, but the Warlock refused to sign. It was a confession detailing the Warlock's plot to murder Rhaegar. The Warlock still refused to cooperate.
"Jeff, write down everything you saw! In triplicate: that the Qarthian Warlock used magic to bewitch me and attempted to murder me!" Rhaegar instructed Jeff to take notes. The Qarthian envoys' faces grew dim. They felt they had provoked a being they should not have—khals feared him, and dragons obeyed him. If the Dragonlord became angry, Qarth would surely run with blood.
"Yes!" Joffrey Arryn took out paper and pen and began writing down the sequence of events.
"Gentlemen, as witnesses, you also need to sign!" Rhaegar said smilingly to the envoys. The Qarthian envoys had no thought of resistance left. Thus, they all cooperated with the performance. If they didn't sign this confession, they probably wouldn't be able to return to Qarth.
The Warlock Pyat Pree's finger was pricked by a knife tip, and his blood dripped onto the paper, alongside the handprints of the Qarthian envoys.
"In that case, this matter can be minimized! Since you don't want to say much, you don't need to speak anymore! Tie him to the stake outside!" Rhaegar looked at Pyat Pree and signaled the others to drag him out of the tent, so as not to stain the carpet. Pyat Pree was viciously tied to a thick wooden stake by Thrimm. The Warlock's sorcery still had some effect, but their physical strength was truly negligible.
"I hope you will open your mouth and tell me about the true mastermind, tell me some things I don't know!" Rhaegar looked at Pyat Pree. The Warlock's face was pale, and he had already foreseen his fate. It would be a pity to kill Pyat Pree immediately since he delivered himself, and Rhaegar still wanted to know more about Qarth and the House of the Undying.
"Dragons!" The Qarthian delegation stared at the approaching dragons. Three dragons appeared together in their sight. A herd of dragons in the wild—these were the most beautiful and magnificent three dragons in the world. Dragons are dragons; their value surpasses all other animals. Legends on both sides of the Narrow Sea feature dragons. The Qarthians also knew they were priceless treasures, the evil beasts responsible for the destruction of the Old Ghiscari Empire and the Rhoynar civilization. The silver dragon approached. After a thunderous flap of its leathery wings, the silver dragon looked at Pyat Pree with molten gold eyes. The dragon's scales shimmered brightly, but approaching the dragon made the temperature rise!
"Dracarys!" Rhaegar commanded. The Silver Emperor arched its neck, and smoke billowed from the dragon's mouth; the flames were already visible. Under the high heat, Pyat Pree felt his skin was about to burst open like pork rind, his life flickering like a candle in the wind.
"I agree!" "I'll talk!" Pyat Pree cried and laughed, having descended into a state of collapse.
"Very good. Write down everything you know! Truthfully and reliably!" Rhaegar looked at Pyat Pree. These sorcerers were just spineless cowards. Rhaegar needed intelligence on Qarth, including the House of the Undying. Later, many of them would wail in the hands of Crow's Eye, tortured beyond recognition. In comparison, Rhaegar was relatively chaotic good.
"Coward!" Thrimm slapped the Warlock across the face with his remaining arm. This farce was over for now. The Qarthian delegation dared not request to take Pyat Pree back; being able to return themselves was a tremendous stroke of luck. They had seen the dragon and the fire—killing a man was effortless.
"Alright, gentlemen, I believe this was an unintentional mistake on your part! Deliver a message to the Undying Ones for me: I always repay every debt, no matter how small. I, Rhaegar Targaryen, will bring them a gift!" Rhaegar smiled, his expression benevolent. A kindness received must be repaid, and a grievance must be avenged. "As for Pyat Pree, he should have been dragged out and burned by the dragon! But I am kind-hearted, and he still needs to clarify a few things. Let this friend stay here for a while!"
Rhaegar called Thrimm over. The one-armed king of the wildlings picked up his saber and brutally struck the Warlock's leg bone with the hilt. The Warlock let out a wretched scream like a pig being slaughtered, and was then dragged away.
"Yes!" "Yes!" The Qarthian envoys nodded repeatedly, breathing a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the Prince was not completely tyrannical, otherwise, they might not have escaped the dragon's maw. As for that damned Warlock, whether he lived or died, they would leave him to his fate. The royal house, the Thirteen, the Ancient Guild of Spicers, and the Tourmaline Brotherhood dared not raise a single objection.
Which Qarthian dared to say no? With such a dramatic ending, no one had the courage to resist. Furthermore, the Warlock brought this upon himself, and the failure of his magic indicated the presence of something far more terrifying than the Warlock himself.
Qarthians were indeed very rich, but if he killed them, the money would still be his... After Rhaegar saw off the Qarthian delegation, he returned to Harrenhal.
Regarding the future of humanity, armies resisting the wights were on their way.
Among the warriors arriving from all directions, Rhaegar saw Arthur Dayne.
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