Past Trident, the scenery changed once more. The hills of Crownlands rolled by, and villages became more densely packed. The scent of the sea hung in the air; they were drawing closer and closer to King's Landing.
Until one afternoon, the party rested on a small hill. From there, they could see the distant horizon, where a silver ribbon shimmered under the sunlight.
"What is that?" Sansa asked curiously.
"The Blackwater Rush," Jon answered. He had read books about the geography of King's Landing. "It flows beneath King's Landing and empties into Blackwater Bay."
Arya climbed onto a large rock and stood on her tiptoes. "Can I see the city?"
"It's still too far from here," Eddard said. "But by this time tomorrow, we'll be able to see the walls of King's Landing."
The following afternoon, King's Landing finally appeared in their line of sight.
First to be seen was The Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill, its seven massive towers standing at the city's highest point. Then came the winding walls, encircling the entire city.
Thousands upon thousands of houses were packed tightly together, with streets intersecting like a spiderweb. The Blackwater Rush merged into the broad Blackwater Bay outside the city walls, where hundreds of ships of all sizes were moored in the harbor.
Even from a distance, one could smell the unique odor of this city.
Sansa's eyes widened, hardly able to believe the sight before her. "King's Landing is actually this big."
Arya, however, wrinkled her nose and said, "King's Landing stinks."
The party continued forward until they entered this city full of power, intrigue, and danger.
Meanwhile, in the far east, in the study of Dragonstone in Valyria, Viserys was looking at a letter in his hand.
Since receiving news of Arryn's death, new letters had arrived from King's Landing every week. This indicated that undercurrents were surging in King's Landing, and it was far from peaceful.
However, this had little to do with him for now; he would wait for the people of Westeros to kill each other before acting.
Over the past two months, he had been training the Young Dragons with the three women. The training grounds at Dragonstone had now been expanded several times over. The ground was covered with thick sand, enough to withstand the weight and destruction of the Young Dragons.
The nine Young Dragons—if they could still be called 'young'—considering even Dany's three smallest ones were now nearly the size of horses. The four largest dragons, including Melyas and Balerion, could already carry a person in flight, with wingspans reaching seven or eight meters.
The training content had long since upgraded to complex tactical coordination and power control. Viserys stood on the high platform in the center of the grounds, his expression focused. Through a deep psychic connection, his commands were transmitted directly into the minds of the Young Dragons.
"Balerion, a quick low-altitude pass. Cover that area with your Dragonfire. Be careful to control the range of the flames; do not let them spread outside the field."
The pitch-black Balerion let out a clear dragon roar. With a beat of its wings, its sturdy body displayed astonishing agility as it flew toward the target close to the ground. Approaching the target location, it opened its maw, and a blast of scorching, corrosive Dragonfire erupted, precisely enveloping the wooden dummies and instantly igniting them into charred remains.
Almost at the same time Balerion began his movement, Viserys's commands were also transmitted to Vhagar and Meleys.
Vhagar let out a provocative low growl and deliberately swept past from a high altitude. Then, Scorpion Crossbows on several high platforms fired headless bolts at it to simulate an arrow attack. Vhagar rolled nimbly to evade, a hint of human-like mockery even flashing in its vertical pupils. Meanwhile, Meleys seized the opportunity to fly low beneath it, a thin but condensed jet of fire erupting from deep within its throat to hit the targets below.
The other dragons, guided by Viserys's will, also performed more complex tactical drills like coordinated attacks. On the training ground, the sound of dragon wings flapping, roars, and the whistling of Dragonfire intertwined, creating a scene that was spectacular and full of overwhelming pressure.
Melyas, ridden by Rhaenys, was undergoing manned flight training. Deep red dragon wings sliced through the sky. Rhaenys pressed close to the dragon's neck, her black ponytail fluttering in the wind, as she constantly issued commands in Valyrian.
Daenerys also brought her three small dragons to practice nearby. Although the three dragons were smaller than those of her brother and Rhaenys, they were full of vitality, competing to execute Daenerys's orders. Occasionally, they would collide due to being 'overly enthusiastic,' leaving Daenerys both annoyed and amused.
Ashara's Tessarion was the quietest, its sky-blue scales shimmering with a soft light in the sun. It was practicing breathing Dragonfire according to Ashara's instructions, its pale blue eyes focused and gentle. However, the temperature of its Dragonfire was actually the highest among all the Young Dragons.
However, Viserys also keenly noticed that the growth rate of the Young Dragons had significantly slowed down in the last two months. The initial explosive growth phase seemed to have passed. Although they were still getting bigger and stronger, it was far slower than before.
He knew the reason: it was likely due to a low ebb in magic. The magical environment of this world had not yet fully recovered, and the magic the Young Dragons absorbed daily was not enough to support rapid growth.
Now, their growth would only slightly accelerate when they preyed on the magical creatures living on the Valyrian Peninsula and its surrounding waters. This was also why he had previously released several of the larger dragons into the peninsula for periodic hunting.
The training continued throughout the entire morning. Although the Young Dragons were energetic, under Viserys's relentless command, they gradually began to show signs of fatigue.
He ordered a rest, and servants wheeled in large quantities of prepared roasted beef and mutton. The Young Dragons immediately surrounded the food and began to feast, occasionally breathing fire to roast the meat until it was even more fragrant and crispy.
Viserys rubbed his temples; the high-intensity connection was also a significant burden on his Psychic power. As he prepared to leave the training ground, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the figure standing quietly by the sidelines.
Rhaenys. She was already fifteen years old.
The body that once held a hint of childishness had completely filled out. She was tall and well-proportioned, with the black hair inherited from her mother Elia and those Targaryen violet eyes making her appear even more enchanting.
Today, she wore a set of dark red riding clothes that outlined her maturing curves. At this moment, she was focused on watching her Melyas eat, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
But Viserys could feel that deep in her heart, she hid a trace of imperceptible loneliness and anxiety.
Since she had her first period over a year ago and officially entered girlhood, the relationship between them had undergone a subtle change. The way she looked at him was no longer just the dependence and admiration of a sister for a brother or a niece for an uncle, but was mixed with some more burning emotions.
It was the throb of a young girl's first awakening of love, as well as the confusion and unease regarding the stagnation of their current status.
After all, according to the traditions of the world of Ice and Fire, a girl of this age should have been betrothed or even married long ago. Yet, she was still being treated as a child by Viserys.
Viserys was not the dense type; he knew what Rhaenys was thinking. However, he had been constantly exercising restraint.
The reasons were complex. Part of it was out of fear of the invisible pressure from the 'Great God of River Crabs'; he always felt as if an invisible pair of eyes were watching him, and if he made any out-of-line moves, he might be crushed to death by a single palm.
Of course, more importantly, he felt that engaging in such things too early would cause significant physical harm to them.
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