There were too many rolling logs and shattered rocks. Every swing of Daeron's tool drained his strength.
Before long, both arms were sore and numb.
Fortunately, the cleared space was already sufficient.
"Reality isn't a game. I can't work on an empty stomach. I'll plant some crops to fill my belly first."
Daeron knew he did not possess the iron stomach of a pixelated little man, so he honestly chose economical, practical seeds.
His starting capital was only 500 Gold Dragons.
Considering the requirements for the sacrifice, he had no choice but to be cautious.
"A sacrifice means collecting several specific crops from each season, covering all five activities: farming, foraging, mining, fishing, and combat."
One parsnip seed took four days to mature and could be harvested only once.
One green bean seed took ten days to mature, then could be harvested repeatedly once every three days.
Two cauliflower seeds took twelve days to mature and could be harvested only once.
Five potato seeds took six days to mature and could be harvested only once, with a chance of yielding multiple potatoes.
He spent a total of 490 gold, leaving him with only 10 Gold Dragons.
The crops grown from the four types of seeds he had bought happened to correspond to the spring farming sacrifice.
The extra cauliflower was in case the System Panel issued a request quest, while potatoes would be his main source of food and income.
He cleared a 3×3 square plot, planted the nine seeds separately, and watered them one by one with a watering can.
Though he had never farmed before, Daeron knew vegetables needed spacing.
Each plot of land was 0.5 square meters, so a 3×3 grid required only 2.25 square meters.
"All done."
Daeron smiled as he straightened up and rubbed his arms.
As long as he watered them every day, he would have a bumper harvest in twelve days at the latest.
He could eat some, sell some for funds, and even take them to King's Landing to sell at a high price.
However, once the farm had been created, outside currency could no longer be used as a substitute.
Gold was gold and could only be spent on the farm.
The Gold Dragons he earned were Gold Dragons, to be spent outside after selling things outside.
The 500 in starting capital counted as a beginner's benefit.
"Since I planted fewer than fifteen seeds, no crows will come. I can sleep without worry."
When Daeron looked up, the sky had already darkened.
His body was exhausted, and he wanted to sit by the fire in the cottage as soon as possible.
Just as he was about to return to the cottage, Daeron stopped short and suddenly realized, "Damn it, I forgot Ser Jon."
He hurried out of the farm to look for him.
He had told the man to water the horses by the river and survey the surrounding terrain while he was at it. Several hours had passed in the blink of an eye, yet there was still no sign of him.
Leaving the farm, he walked along the dirt path.
Only then did Daeron realize that there was a fence along the side of the dirt path bordering the woods, and the path ended halfway up the mountain.
At that moment, a fire flickered at the foot of the mountain beneath the dusk.
Ser Jon sat on a bluish stone. With his helmet removed, his face looked somewhat dejected, as though he regretted something.
The three horses were tied to an oak tree not far away.
Daeron slowly stepped out and feigned confusion. "Ser Jon, you couldn't find me?"
"Prince...!"
The sun gradually set.
From Ser Jon, he learned that the man had followed his orders and even searched the beach five kilometers away. But when he returned, he suddenly discovered that he could no longer find Daeron.
He had seen that dirt path and walked onto it, only to find himself returning the way he had come, unable to go up the mountain no matter what.
After pondering it, Daeron roughly understood the reason.
Dragon Tongue Farm was protected by some mysterious power. Anyone without his invitation or approval was unable to enter.
That suited Daeron perfectly, preventing anyone from trespassing into the farm.
"Since that's the case, I won't disturb you any longer."
Daeron got up, removed the packages from the horses' backs, and distributed the prepared leather tent, blankets, dry rations, and other supplies.
When one was weak, one had to know how to protect oneself.
He did not intend to invite Ser Jon in.
Ser Jon had wanted to refuse. He wanted to protect the prince at close range, but at the sight of the generous supplies, he could not bring himself to say anything.
A sense of distance was an indispensable part of human relationships.
The prince had his own secrets and had verbally refused to let him follow.
"Please be careful."
Ser Jon sighed and could only accept.
Daeron then returned.
After years of observing the way Tywin dealt with people and affairs, he had privately drawn a few conclusions.
When one wanted to accomplish something, one had to prepare thoroughly; when one wanted someone else to accomplish something, one had to provide everything that person lacked and block off every route of retreat.
The tents and other supplies he had prepared before leaving the city were for this very moment.
Night fell, and the moon shone amid sparse stars.
Warm light filled the cottage. Daeron bent over the table, writing a letter and sealing it with wax.
"It's finished."
Daeron gently raised his head and looked outside through the window beside the door.
The letter would be sent to Dragonstone and delivered to his elder brother, Rhaegar.
There were no elaborate pleasantries, only two concise demands.
They roughly read: "I, Daeron Targaryen, want a Dragon Egg!!"
Signed: I know you're on Dragonstone. Don't ignore my letter.
I hope he'll at least reply. Don't be so emotionally distant.
Whenever Daeron recalled the letters he had sent before, he could not help rubbing his brow.
Who would have thought that Prince Rhaegar, so glorious in the eyes of the world, could be so cold toward his own family?
But Daeron was persistent.
According to House Targaryen's traditions, whenever a newborn was born, a Dragon Egg had to be placed in the cradle.
If it hatched into a Young Dragon, it would become the newborn's companion dragon.
It did not matter if it failed to hatch.
After all, dragons had been extinct for over one hundred and fifty years. The kings of every generation had tried all manner of methods without success.
But back then, newborns could at least receive a Dragon Egg.
Today, that tradition existed in name only.
The problem had arisen twenty-one years ago, when his great-grandfather Aegon V had taken out the Royal Family's last seven Dragon Eggs and, with the help of a Pyromancer, attempted to hatch them using Wildfire's intense heat.
He had failed!
Summerhall had been destroyed in the blaze. Aegon V himself, his eldest son Prince Duncan "the Shorty," the Kingsguard commander Ser Duncan "the Tall," and a great many members of the royal house and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms had all perished in the flames.
It became known as the Tragedy of Summerhall.
That fire had destroyed the family's last remaining Dragon Eggs.
As a result, when Daeron and his siblings had been born, none of them had received a Dragon Egg.
Were there really none left? Daeron was unwilling to believe it.
During the most prosperous era of the Targaryen dynasty, the family had possessed more than ten adult dragons, and half of them had been egg-laying females.
A dragon laid no fewer than five Dragon Eggs in each clutch.
During the Dance of the Dragons, the reserve of Dragon Eggs had numbered at least thirty.
Even if, with the passage of time, living Dragon Eggs had lost their Life Force and become dead eggs as hard as stone, some should have remained.
"I don't even need a normal Dragon Egg. One that has turned to stone will do."
Daeron's thoughts raced.
Take Daenerys, the "Mother of Dragons" from the original story, for example. Through a Blood Sacrifice, she had bestowed life upon three petrified Dragon Eggs and hatched three dragons.
It was an obviously viable path.
After learning of the Tragedy of Summerhall, he boldly speculated that his great-grandfather Aegon V's attempt to hatch Dragon Eggs with Wildfire had also been a form of Blood Sacrifice.
It was simply that he should not have used Wildfire to hatch them.
Wildfire was not a creation of magic. It was more like a chemical product, so how could it grant Dragon Eggs the Life Force needed to break open?
Even without my telling him, Rhaegar must have searched Dragonstone thoroughly too.
Daeron knew he would most likely be disappointed, but he still wanted to test it.
Treating a dead horse as if it were alive, perhaps Dragon Mountain hid Dragon Eggs that had never been discovered...
"With Dragon Tongue Farm giving me confidence, finding a Dragon Egg is imperative."
Determination shone in Daeron's deep eyes. "If Dragonstone has none, then I'll search the entire continent."
Before you continue