A Grand Sweep!

A Grand Sweep!

Having finished looting the family sword Blackfyre, Aemon obediently hung it back up.

For an item to contain magic power, it generally had to be sufficiently ancient, possess it inherently, or have undergone some kind of mutation.

Valyrian Steel was one of the few treasures left behind by the Valyrian Freehold. It would have been strange if it contained no magic power.

House Royce also possessed a Valyrian Steel family sword called "Lament."

But Lady Rhea treasured it dearly and kept it hanging in her room, giving Aemon no chance to get near it.

"Let's see what else there is."

Aemon continued rummaging through chests and cabinets, setting his sights on a Valyrian Steel crown.

It was the crown Aegon the Conqueror had worn at his coronation, studded with several brilliant rubies.

However, the current crown was the golden one worn by his great-grandfather, while that crown had been put away as a collectible.

"Nothing. Still nothing."

With the sun about to set, a thin sheen of sweat appeared on Aemon's forehead as he gave up searching for the Valyrian Steel crown.

It had probably been stored somewhere else.

Aemon caught his breath and wiped away his sweat. "I'll change locations and keep at it."

Just as he was about to leave, his gaze swept over the stone sculptures on the round table in the Bedchamber.

He stopped short, as though rooted to the spot, feeling that leaving like this would be inappropriate.

It would be too suspicious to just make a round and leave.

Aemon's eyes shifted as he walked over to the broad round table covered in stone carvings and picked up a dragon-shaped sculpture.

His uncle Viserys enjoyed collecting stone sculptures.

They recreated the supreme glory of the Valyrian Freehold through stone carvings.

In his previous life, he would have definitely been a figurine collector.

"I won't take much. Just one to make it look convincing."

Aemon silently apologized to his uncle and tucked the dragon sculpture into the bag at his waist.

Someone had seen him come in anyway. They would find out sooner or later.

Taking one treasured "figurine" would serve as an excuse for his search for magic.

Having finished his cover-up, Aemon hurriedly relocated.

The Red Keep was so large that he could not afford to waste time.

Red Keep, underground tomb cellar.

Yes, Aemon was actually a grave-robbing boy.

Click!

After lighting the white tallow candles along the walls, the dim, spacious tomb cellar brightened considerably.

Aemon looked around, unable to hide the smile on his face.

Though it was called a tomb cellar, it resembled more of a private royal treasury, forbidden to outside ministers.

The most distinctive objects were the pitch-black dragon bones used for memorial rites.

At the center of the tomb cellar stood a circular altar half a man's height.

Resting upon it was a colossal dragon skull as large as a house, black as ink from end to end, savage in appearance yet no less majestic.

White candles, more than half burned down, were arranged in circles around the dragon skull. Their hazy light made it appear incomparably solemn.

Aemon stared in a daze, his small chest rising and falling faster as he murmured, "The remains of Black Dread Baelarion!"

The only being the royal family would preserve in the tomb cellar for remembrance was the terrifying dragon that had dominated an era—Balerion.

A true adult dragon, whose throat could swallow a mammoth whole.

It was said that at its peak, the dragonfire it breathed could easily melt armor and stone, turning sand into glass.

Even today, not a single dragon of House Targaryen could rival it.

"Balerion, bless me. Please don't let me down."

Aemon pressed his palms together and muttered fervently.

Then, with great effort, his small body climbed onto the altar, and he reached out to touch the dragon skull, which was still warm.

"Special magic power detected within biological remains. Obtained one portion of Burning Fire Magic."

Aemon shuddered, suddenly feeling as if his hand had been scalded.

A faint red glow, like a firefly, appeared and spiraled through the air before drilling into his chest.

"Hiss!" Aemon's eyes widened as a warm current washed through his entire body.

The sensation was several times stronger than Physique +1, as if a thousand tiny hands were massaging him. His whole body tingled pleasantly.

In only two breaths, he was drenched in sweat.

Then... the effect ended.

Aemon was a little dumbfounded. Scratching his head, he asked, "That's it?"

He looked at his palm. A little dirt had gotten between his fingers.

Turning back to the fearsome dragon skull, it remained pitch-black with a metallic sheen, utterly unchanged from before.

"No, the reaction was intense."

Aemon clenched his fists. He seemed to have gained a little strength.

He summoned the Magic Essence Panel and opened his personal attributes page.

Aemon Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (13%)

Skills: High Valyrian (Mastery), History (Familiar)...

Magic Cards: None

Status: "Physique improved. Less susceptible to colds and more resistant to high temperatures."

"A Bloodline Tab appeared. Did that portion of Fire Magic Power activate it?" Aemon's thoughts were clear.

It had not been there before. It had only just appeared.

The panel notification had said that Balerion's skull contained special magic power. It should have been the blazing flames unique to dragons.

"A dragon truly is a dragon. Even in death, it blesses those who come after."

Aemon could not help feeling delighted. Bloodlines were extremely important.

They concerned innate gifts such as taming dragons, resisting heat and cold, and more.

"Still, opening the Bloodline Tab doesn't seem to have had any obvious effect."

Aemon stroked his chin, looking forward to it.

After all, with the Bloodline Tab, he could clearly see the density of his bloodline and use it as a reference for how safely he could approach dragons.

If he could find a way to increase its purity, there might be unexpected benefits.

After giving it some thought, he decided this was not a place to linger. "I'd better leave first."

Thinking it and doing it, Aemon immediately fled. "Thank you for the hospitality, Balerion."

He did not forget to offer his thanks before leaving.

As expected of a legendary dragon, even the reward it gave was incredibly generous.

A Bloodline Tab that pointed directly at the key, along with a slight boost to his physique.

And most importantly!

At the bottom of the dazzling panel, the Golden Funnel glowed brilliantly. The accompanying text read: Essence Amount: 141.

One portion of Fire Magic Power had provided a full 100 points of essence. It was practically becoming rich overnight!

The road to collecting magic power was long and arduous.

At dusk, the horizon was ablaze with red.

Aemon emerged from the tomb cellar, glanced at the ill-timed sky, and planned to return to his room to rest.

As he passed through the Castle Forecourt, people still bustled about everywhere.

Thud!

While calculating how to use his essence, Aemon walked with his head down and crashed into a hard body.

"Who are you? Are you all right?"

A White Knight in silver armor and a white cloak stopped. A trace of surprise crossed his handsome face as he bent down to ask the silver-haired boy.

Aemon covered his reddened forehead, with no time to chat. "I'm fine. I'm leaving."

He would never walk around staring down again.

Criston Cole looked puzzled. He stopped the silver-haired boy who was about to leave and repeated his question, "What is your name? Where are your parents?"

Silver hair and violet eyes were not traits of an ordinary noble.

Though the silver-haired boy before him was dusty from running around everywhere, his luxurious clothing still proclaimed his noble status.

As far as he knew, the royal family had no Little Prince of this age.

Perhaps he was a lost child of House Velaryon or House Celtigar, who also descended from the Valyrians.

Besides.

Cole's eyes turned wary as he looked Aemon over. "Where did you just come from? Do you need help?"

Hearing the question for the third time, Aemon was close to losing it.

He looked up and saw a young White Knight with black hair and black eyes, handsome and imposing.

Aemon had not seen him when he was in King's Landing. He had probably been selected after Aemon left.

Then there could only be one person.

Aemon had no favorable impression of him. Folding his arms across his chest, he said forcefully, "White Knight, your duty is to protect the royal family, not make trouble for it."

His attitude was utterly arrogant, showing no courtesy at all.

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