"Black Swan" and the Dragonbone Bow

"Black Swan" and the Dragonbone Bow

Aemon smiled faintly and slowly walked back to the crowd.

Same old saying.

When it mattered, keep your wits about you. Don't disgrace yourself!

The brave got to enjoy everything first. Courage needed no explanation.

"Mom, there are probably slaves aboard."

Aemon offered a reminder.

Lady Rhea was still immersed in shock. She stared at her foolish son for a while, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Prince, you are practically a warrior reborn."

Ser Steve was beside himself with excitement, unable to think of any other words to praise such a terrifying feat.

All he could say was that Aemon truly deserved to be Daemon's bloodline.

Or perhaps it was just as the rumors claimed.

Whenever a Targaryen was born, the gods tossed a coin to decide whether they would be mad or great.

"Shh!"

Aemon placed a finger to his lips and calmly said, "Praise the dragons, Ser."

He was no longer a child.

The Prince needed a dragon and lands of his own, then he could build a sturdy town and turn it into a prosperous domain.

Words of praise were outdated. Real benefits were better.

Ser Steve suppressed his excitement and nodded vigorously, staying by the Prince's side without taking a single step away.

At that moment, Lady Rhea came to her senses.

The sea was littered with corpses, and she ordered the Sailors to salvage the wrecked ship.

Half an hour passed.

A group of sturdy young men in coarse linen clothes was rescued aboard. Their faces and necks bore tattoos, and they huddled timidly at the bow.

There were roughly a hundred of them, all slaves with artisan backgrounds.

There were craftsmen of all kinds, distinguishable by the tattoos on their bodies.

Among them was also a young girl in tattered skirts, who looked like the daughter of some noble lord.

Aemon looked them over, quietly weighing the rarity of so many artisans.

As for the pretty girl with long, straight black hair...

Sorry!

Targaryen men were only interested in silver-haired women who rode dragons.

"Prince, look what this is."

Ser Steve pried open a crate, revealing a pitch-black bone bow.

The bone bow was not a longbow, but an expertly crafted recurve bow.

It was black as ink from end to end, with pointed tips at either end. Its bowstring was made from the sinew of some powerful creature.

"A Dragonbone Bow!"

Aemon recognized it at once and took the black bone bow, which stood as tall as he did.

It felt heavy in his hands. Rather than being icy cold, it was thick and warm.

The panel's prompt sounded at just the right moment.

Discovered an item containing faint magic. Magic Essence +1.

Aemon froze at the sound. There was an unexpected gain, too.

On second thought, it was perfectly normal for dragonbone to retain some magic. Weapons made from it were even more precious.

Its quality was no lower than the Bronze Armor.

Ser Steve happily said, "These slaves were merchandise bound for Pentos, and this Dragonbone Bow is an even greater treasure."

"Thanks, Ser."

Aemon smiled and cradled the heavy Dragonbone Bow.

As its name suggested, the bow itself had been forged from dragonbone.

On the continent of Essos across the Strait Sea, dragonbone and dragon horns were precious materials that fetched high prices at auction.

King's Landing had them as well, but lacked the craftsmanship to polish dragonbone into weapons.

The Dragonbone Bow in his hands was tough and finely finished in every detail. It was likely the work of one of Qohor's finest craftsmen.

Compared to it, his little wooden bow was utterly worthless.

"Aemon, come here."

Lady Rhea frowned and pointed at the Craft Slaves. "Tell them we'll let them off at Gulltown so they can fend for themselves."

They were all foreigners and spoke Valyrian.

Aemon obediently acted as translator.

After a moment of thought, he took the initiative. "Mom, keep them."

"Runestone doesn't need so many craftsmen."

Lady Rhea looked around, unwilling to feed so many people for nothing.

Aemon raised his head and said earnestly, "Leave them to me. They'll be useful eventually."

There were more than a hundred craftsmen in total. Even King's Landing could not gather so many in a short time.

The Vale was relatively underdeveloped and badly needed skilled hands.

Lady Rhea stared into her son's eyes. After thinking it over, she agreed. "They're yours. You'll pay for their food and drink, too."

"No problem."

Aemon smiled.

Lady Rhea waved a hand, signaling for the Sailors to take the Craft Slaves below deck.

Then she summoned the fifty Vale Knights accompanying them.

Aemon's eyes were clear, though for some reason.

Lady Rhea rubbed his head and, unusually, showed a satisfied expression. "In light of your performance, these fifty Vale Knights will be under your command from now on. They will serve you with all their hearts."

"Really?"

Aemon could hardly believe it.

Fifty Vale Knights were already a force not to be underestimated.

Lady Rhea said with certainty, "In our family, a man's word is his bond."

If she said she would give them to him, she would. It was to build momentum for her son.

Runestone was full of tangled blood relatives, and there would be no shortage of people opposing a Targaryen heir. They needed to lay the groundwork early.

Aemon was overjoyed. Today really is a good day.

It did not matter whether his father Daemon came back.

The Dragonbone Bow, Craft Slaves, and Vale Knights directly met the needs of developing a domain. He could form a small foundation of his own.

"You can go now."

Lady Rhea gave Gonsal a look, signaling him to take her son and familiarize him with the troops.

The Vale Knights kept their eyes lowered and had no objection to swearing loyalty to a young Prince. If anything, they were quite eager.

The sight of the Prince shooting down the Three Daughters Pirates was still vivid in their minds.

An eight-year-old child, comparable to a warrior reborn.

The sailing ship continued onward.

Lady Rhea called over the only girl dressed like a noble and asked about her background. "What is your name?"

The bedraggled girl showed the relief of someone who had survived a disaster and answered honestly, "My name is Johanna Swann. Lord Swann of Stonehelm is my uncle."

"Your uncle is a lord. Why didn't he save you?"

Lady Rhea's expression turned strange.

Johanna lowered her head and bit her lower lip. "My uncle refused to pay the ransom..."

The rest was truly too difficult to say.

Her uncle had been unwilling to spend the money, so she was to be sold to brothels in the Free Trade City-States.

"Heh. Lord Swann truly would rather break than bend."

Lady Rhea sneered and asked, "I've heard of you. Do you want me to send someone to take you home?"

Johanna lowered her head even further. Clearly dissatisfied with her cold-blooded uncle, she did not want to return and suffer his disdainful looks.

"Then stay at Runestone and be my companion."

Lady Rhea understood her predicament and kindly took her in, so she would not be left homeless.

"Thank you, my lady."

Johanna fell to her knees, tears of emotion streaming down her face.

Aemon watched the entire exchange. He curiously looked Johanna over twice before returning to the stern.

"Black Swan" Johanna, Lys's famous Courtesan and one of its powers behind the scenes.

Her life had been difficult, but it was inspiring enough as well.

He had heard of her during the Kingswood Hunt, but never expected his family would save her by chance.

At least she would not be sold into a brothel to suffer.

Raise her well, and she could be useful later.

The sun gradually set.

Beneath the evening glow, the sea was dyed with a gentle crimson blush.

"Ahh!!"

Aemon stood at the stern and let out a scream.

The fish basket had been overturned again, and every last fish was gone.

Apart from scorched marks, only a dead fish remained, covered in sticky saliva.

It looked as though the Fish Thief had eaten its fill, then regurgitated it.

"How dare you! I will definitely fish you out!"

Aemon's eyes blazed as he plopped onto a small stool and began wildly casting his hook.

Did it not love eating fish?

Then he would fish!

If he fished all the way, then let it keep following him and stealing fish all the way.

Stuff yourself to death, you Fish Thief.

Don't let me catch you, or you'll suffer terribly.

Aemon thought bitterly.

Dragons were not tools. They were intelligent creatures of flesh and blood.

Every dragon was adorable.