A Father's Notes: Valyrian Blood and Magic

"I imagine you have handled everything after my death quite well, my child.

I'm sorry our last meeting had to be like this.

I was not a good father. Because of my willfulness and foolishness, you brothers bore the name of sons of a whore princess from the moment you were born.

Of course, I know you would not care."

Lonzell curled his lip and continued reading.

The handwriting was still elegant, neat High Valyrian aristocratic script.

"Everyone has secrets. Your old man had them too. As for what that secret was... hehe, it no longer matters. I have taken it to the grave, and there is no need for you to know."

"..."

Lonzell suppressed the urge to throw the book away and turned to the next page.

"Your old man spent half his life being ridiculous and the other half sober. Only at the end did I realize that you were the damned gift the gods had given me. A born blood mage. If there had not been a way to confirm it, I would have almost thought you were like me."

"Gold-made fingers?" Lonzell scratched his head in confusion.

"I thought I could master the magic spoken of in the family legends, or that at the very least, Valaerys blood would let me hatch a dragon. Sadly, I was wrong."

Between the lines, Lonzell could see the regret and dissatisfaction of his usually carefree father.

"I gathered countless mages. Some of them truly had some skill, but there were even more swindlers. If you ever have the chance to go to Qarth, remember to spit in the House of the Undying for your old man. By the gods' arses, those warlocks had some ability, but they actually wanted to draw your old man's and your blood. Hmph. If I had a dragon, I would have burned them first."

The old man must have been obsessed with dragons, Lonzell thought. Yet he understood his father's plans, which was why he had always followed the arrangements his father had made.

After all, what Valyrian boy could resist the allure of dragons?

On countless midnight awakenings, he had dreamed of soaring through the sky, bathed in moonlight.

"Still, your old man was fortunate enough to make something. My child, I hope these results can help you complete our grand plan.

First, I assume you have already finished the books Visari brought and learned about the ancient legends of different regions, as well as the history of the Valyrian Freehold. Then have you ever wondered why the Valyrians rose to power? Why did a people dormant for thousands of years possess such strange appearances? Why could the noble bloodlines among us command magical dragons, and where did those dragons come from?"

"Of course I have," Lonzell answered instinctively.

"So have I. I read every document in the family archives, as well as the texts brought by those mages. There is no doubt that the Valyrians could never have been a race born naturally. Elements of magic flow in our blood. My child, do you remember the words of House Valaerys?"

My Blood Runs Silver, Lonzell recited inwardly. He had already had some guesses about this question, and now his father's notes might confirm them.

"'My Blood Runs Silver.' These are our house words. In Westeros, the house words of your mother's family are 'Fire and Blood.' Have you noticed? We Dragonlord families treasure bloodlines and emphasize bloodlines. During the Freehold era, the Forty Dragonlord Families either intermarried or committed incest within their own families, not merely to prevent their blood from leaking out, but more importantly, to preserve the magical elements in their blood. Son, you are a born blood mage. Purifying bloodlines is no more than a simple task for you. You must also understand that the root of a blood mage's magic is blood. And not just blood mages—blood sacrifice is also an important part of R'hllor's fire magic system and Asshai's shadow magic system. As for our Valyrian steel, family records state that blood was likewise needed in its forging process.

Blood is the currency of the magical world.

That is the creed of equivalent exchange. And the blood of descendants of Dragonlord families like us is even more precious. Your Blood Magic is far stronger than that of every blood mage your old man has ever seen. That is the source of my confidence."

Lonzell frowned. He naturally knew his blood was powerful. Weapons stained with his blood became sharper, while poison mixed with his blood could become ten times more potent. He could use blood to locate others, hear the thoughts of those who drank his blood, and control animals through blood.

But he did not understand the source of his father's confidence.

Their grand plan was not complicated. Cleorius had designed an extremely complex set of Blood Magic runes, said to be capable of resisting the curse of the Smoking Sea.

They wanted to find Aurion Valaerys's missing army, along with the dragon eggs he had taken with him.

"Valyrian Dragonlord bloodline, combined with Blood Magic—do you understand now? Son, what I want to recreate is the process by which the ancient Valyrians tamed and hatched dragons. The family has always maintained a fleet along the edge of the Smoking Sea. What we can be certain of is that its central region is extremely dangerous. That area includes the city of Valyria, as well as most of the former Freehold. Therefore, no matter what, you must not enter those regions. But as for the outer edges, I believe that under magical protection, you can take a small number of people in to explore.

The western edge of the Shattered Peninsula of Valyria includes the swamps crossed by the Valyrian Road, the fortress city that once belonged to House Miracisen, one of our family's cities, a fire mage tower of House Gelesos, and the estates of several smaller families. This information comes from the family library. If you are bold enough, you may explore those areas as you please. But remain cautious.

We tried to reconstruct Aurion's route. Before vanishing completely, his army was last seen in the swamps at the edge of the peninsula. If his army did not enter Valyria's interior, then their location was likely somewhere between our family's city, 'Vasor,' and the 'Tower of Gelesos.'

During the Freehold era, House Valaerys served the Valyrian deity Vomysor, the god of forging. Thus, before the Doom, the family possessed the techniques for making Valyrian steel. If you can reach Vasor, you will strike it rich. At the very least, you will never lack Valyrian steel.

During the Freehold era, the Dragonlords used volcanoes and magic to hatch dragons. Today, after the fall of the dragons, the Targaryen Dragonlords of the Land of Sunset rely on the pure blood of newborns to hatch dragons. No matter where dragons came from, at least for now, only our bloodlines can command them.

That is enough. Child, you carry the bloodlines of two great Dragonlord families. I believe the purity of your blood is no less than that of those Dragonlords of old. I am sorry, child, for making you shoulder such a dangerous mission, but I believe you can do it. I am sorry. Your father was not a good father, forcing his child to bear his ambitions and dreams."

"Everything is for the family." Lonzell clenched the page. "For the family. For Valar and Rey, and them..."

"My child, may honor forever flow through your blood. May the bloodline of House Valaerys never run dry. May the glory of dragons soaring through the heavens return to the family."

Lonzell raised his head and closed his eyes.

Something crystal-clear seemed to fall silently.

The shadows stirred, and a bearded man in red robes quietly stepped out of them.

"Lord Lonzell, are you prepared?"

Lonzell opened his eyes and returned the notes to their place.

"Please begin, acolyte of the Red God."

"As you command." The red-robed priest lowered his head. "Child of God."

Pentaro Manor.

Towering orange trees blocked Valantis's blistering sunlight, while expensive wine lay spilled across the ground.

Mogul Pentaro, head of House Pentaro, looked at little Cavido collapsed in the arms of two terrified, beautiful slave girls. Veins bulged across his forehead.

"Lord! Lord! We truly do not know! Master only kept demanding wine!" The male slave begged as he clutched his master's foot, huge tears rolling onto the ground. Then he saw his own body.

"Hmph." Mogul stretched out his foot toward one of the slave girls with distaste, making her lick the stains off his shoe, while the Unsullied beside him silently withdrew his Battle-Axe.

"Lord, no known poison was found in the young master's body," said the slave physician with a snake tattooed on his face, prostrating himself.

"I do not have such a foolish son." Mogul forcibly suppressed his anger. "Prepare the golden palanquin. We are going to Megeya Palace."

"Yes."

A new author starting a new book—welcome any criticism or suggestions.