Chapter 129: The Dragon Tamer
"You were wrong? Then tell me, where exactly were you wrong?" Valarr's stern reprimand abruptly halted the moment he saw Viserys clutching the sobbing Samantha while staring at him with an utterly sincere expression.
Valarr instantly lost all momentum. He scrambled down from Silverwing's back in a panic, fumbling as he carefully took his little niece from Viserys's arms. Yet Samantha only cried harder:
"Uncle, we were wrong! Waaah… please don't punish my brothers!"
"Alright, alright, Samantha, be good. Don't cry, don't cry. Uncle won't punish anyone, I promise." Valarr was so flustered that he barely knew what to do with his hands. Only after hearing his assurance did the little girl gradually stop wailing, though soft sobs still escaped her lips.
Only then did Aegon cautiously pull Lingor up from the ground.
Meanwhile, the surrounding patrons and Hugh had already knelt. Only now did they realize these children were actually the King and the Prince's children. Hugh especially felt both terrified and astonished when Silverwing descended from the heavens. He had never imagined that his good deed would end up helping the King, princes, and princesses. The people of Summerhall all knew that the Prince's family rewarded merit fairly and never mistreated those who had rendered service.
Indeed, after finally calming Samantha down, Valarr's first action was not to scold the boys but to look toward Hugh, who remained kneeling nearby.
"You have done well, soldier. Summerhall is proud to have such a diligent citizen." Valarr paused for a moment. "Are you a knight, soldier?"
Hugh looked up in shock. Of course he was not a knight; he was merely a common-born blacksmith. In Westeros, knighthood was both a social class and an honor. Becoming a knight meant casting aside one's commoner status, receiving the right to bear a surname, and gaining the opportunity to acquire lands through military service. Many soldiers from the Riverlands who distinguished themselves during the Dance of the Dragons had been granted lands after receiving knighthood. They had become figures far beyond the reach of ordinary common folk.
"Your Highness, I am merely a blacksmith serving voluntarily in the city guard," Hugh explained.
"Uncle Valarr, this big-bearded uncle is a good man," Samantha said while pointing at Hugh. "He even offered to protect us."
The boys hurriedly nodded as well.
Lingor pointed toward the horses and added, "This uncle lent us horses and escorted us the whole way."
"I know." Valarr glanced at the children, clearly worried that they might burst into tears again, so he forced a smile and allowed them to steer the conversation away from punishment.
"You protected the King and the royal children. Your merit and goodwill alone are enough to earn this honor, soldier. Straighten your back."
Hugh immediately straightened himself.
He knew he had to seize this opportunity. This was his chance to truly raise himself, his wife, and his daughter into a better life.
Valarr unsheathed the Valyrian steel sword Black Widow from his waist and lightly tapped Hugh's shoulders seven times.
"Hugh, blacksmith of Summerhall, for your protection of the King, princes, and princesses, as well as your prior military service, I, Valarr Varezes, hereby grant you knighthood. Rise, Ser Hugh. You may now choose a surname for yourself."
Hugh could scarcely believe he had truly been knighted until the cold Valyrian steel touched his shoulder. It was only when Lingor gently nudged him that he hurriedly bowed deeply toward both Aegon and Valarr.
After settling Hugh's matter, Aegon cautiously approached Valarr.
"Uncle Valarr… what about us—"
Valarr shot him a sidelong glance.
"Your Majesty, after causing all this trouble, you still want to continue wandering around the city with the others?"
Aegon awkwardly scratched his head.
"We only wanted to…"
Valarr continued staring at the young king and slowly extended his hand.
The children all looked at him blankly.
Only then did Lingor suddenly remember.
Oh no. Uncle Valarr and Father are twins. Their namedays are on the same day.
He hurriedly tugged at Aegon's sleeve.
Aegon immediately realized the same thing and could only scratch at his scarf awkwardly.
"Next time you sneak out to play, at least think of a better excuse." Valarr waved a hand helplessly.
He already knew the children truly intended to buy a nameday gift for Longze'er while secretly taking the chance to play. After all, Longze'er always made a great fuss over Valarr's nameday every year but rarely paid attention to his own, despite both birthdays falling on the same day.
"Now then, children. Thank Ser Hugh properly. Make a list of what you want to buy and let him purchase it for you. Afterward, you're all returning with me. Aegon, Lingor, you still have dragon-riding lessons today. Big Brother is already waiting at the Dragonpit, and Little Brother should be arriving soon."
"Oh…"
The boys sighed in perfect unison—everyone except Lingor.
Samantha wiped her tears while looking deeply wronged.
Hugh immediately stood upright and bowed.
"As you command, Your Highness. Your Majesty."
Aegon puffed his cheeks slightly before trotting toward a nearby spice shop. He borrowed a sheet of bookkeeping paper and a quill from the shopkeeper, quickly scribbled down several items, then removed the purse hanging from Viserys's waist. After counting through it, he pulled out five gold dragons and handed both the paper and coins to Hugh.
"Please help us, Ser Hugh."
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Hugh hurriedly folded the paper and tucked it into his breastplate. After receiving Valarr's nod of approval, he led both his own horse and the silver-robed guardsman's mount away at a brisk pace.
"Enough chatter. Viserys, hold Samantha. Your Majesty, Lingor is your responsibility. Climb onto the dragon. I've fitted four saddles, enough for everyone. Viserys, you sit in front. Your Majesty, you take the rear. Make sure the straps are secured."
Valarr pointed upward, urging the children aboard quickly.
The narrow street was simply too cramped for Silverwing. The silver dragon's enormous wings rested awkwardly atop the buildings lining both sides of the street. Even without mounting her, Valarr could clearly sense Silverwing's unease and irritation.
The children exchanged helpless looks before obediently climbing the rope ladder hanging from the dragon saddle one after another.
As Silverwing took flight, the previously kneeling townsfolk gradually stood and returned to the tavern to continue drinking. Before long, the street regained its lively atmosphere.
Only two elegantly dressed silver-haired men continued staring intently at the departing silver dragon long after it vanished into the distance.
One of the men spat on the ground, tossed several copper coins onto the table to pay for his drink, and tugged his companion along as they wound through the district's twisting alleys.
After some time, they arrived before a beautifully decorated villa near the Summer Market.
One of them happened to spot Hugh riding nearby while directing shop assistants loading purchased goods onto a cart.
He muttered bitterly:
"By R'hllor, even these mixed-blood mongrels can earn rewards from the Varezes Family now, while we—true descendants of the Dragonlords—are barred from entry. Bloody curse upon them."
"Rataz, lower your voice," the calmer man warned before gently knocking on the door.
Neither noticed several children playing in the alley beside the villa.
One slender silver-haired teenager carried a black-haired girl upon his back, while another silver-haired youth carried a young boy. Both teenagers were sailors from the Mouse, currently docked in harbor. Their mother was occupied making babies with their stepfather, leaving them rare free time. Thus they had invited their friend Lia—the daughter of Hugh, who was also a friend of their stepfather—to play together.
A moment later, a silver-haired little girl opened the villa's door while kneeling.
The foul-mouthed man never even glanced at her. He stepped directly onto her back as she lay prostrate on the floor before casually entering the villa while grabbing a naked slave boy being used as a living lampstand.
Inside stood a silver-haired, purple-eyed young man dressed in an elegant Volantene silk tokar. He irritably ordered several girls to add more wood to the fire.
"It's freezing in this miserable place. Rataz, Ben—any progress?"
The young man rose immediately upon seeing them.
The more composed Ben shook his head.
"There's no way into Dragon's Lair City. Even back in Volantis, gaining access to Longze'er's family estate was difficult. Now that he's built an entire fortress in this barbaric wasteland, getting inside is practically impossible."
Hogg Belarys snorted.
"In Volantis, if I wished to visit his family estate, his father would personally greet me at the gates. Hmph. The Varezes Family only rose because of that old sorcerer Cleorius. Otherwise, they'd merely be another insignificant landlord family among countless others inside the Black Walls."
This was not mere jealousy.
Like the Varezes Family, House Belarys had once been one of the Forty Dragonlord Families of Valyria. Unlike the Varezes Family, who shattered their dragon eggs and fled into the Black Walls to escape disaster, House Belarys had already established tremendous influence within Volantis itself.
However, when the Doom struck, the family's Dragonlord happened to be traveling abroad. He was deceived and slain by the priests of Norvos, buried alongside his dragon beneath some obscure foreign temple.
Even worse, while a handful of Dragonlords had carried spare dragon eggs while traveling, nearly all dragon eggs within Valyria itself had been concentrated at the Fourteen Flames for hatching.
Thus, the surviving Dragonlord families who remained within the Black Walls—families like Belarys, Onobal, Syraxes, and Mataryon—lost every last dragon egg they possessed.
For that reason, these families joined the Tiger faction during the Century of Blood, attempting to restore the lost glory of Valyria.
But they failed.
Until the three Varezes brothers appeared atop living dragons.
And with them, ancient ambitions reignited once more.
If the Varezes brats can tame dragons, why can't we?
Ben Onobal sighed.
"Things are different now, Hogg. Accept reality."
He casually took a goblet of wine from a nearby serving girl and drank.
"Add fire peppers!" Rataz Syraxes suddenly roared at another serving girl. "How many times must I repeat myself? Add more fire peppers to my meals!"
He angrily downed his wine before spitting it directly into the girl's face.
"What kind of swill is this? Completely tasteless! Bring me Arbor gold or Varezes silverwine!"
The terrified girl immediately rushed toward the cellar.
"And slavery is forbidden here too. Damn them. How are we supposed to live without slaves?"
Rataz cursed viciously.
The slaves inside the villa had all been smuggled from their own ship and rarely permitted outside. If the city guards discovered them, the consequences would be disastrous.
"That's enough."
Ben Onobal looked at him in disappointment.
"Don't forget we still carry Archon Bericcio's mission."
"To the Seven Hells with his mission," Rataz spat.
"Longze'er—I don't know what madness has overtaken him. He insists on rotting away in this miserable land and refuses even to meet us. Frankly, the farther away he stays from the old man's schemes, the better. Hogg, we've already confirmed it. That riderless great dragon in Dragon's Lair City belonged to the dead king."
"Shut your mouth!"
Hogg immediately covered Rataz's mouth in alarm.
"If you want to die, don't drag us down with you. Calling him a bastard king in Westeros will get us beaten to death."
Although Hogg privately agreed that Jacaerys's bloodline was impure, the entire realm now adored the dead young king. Any insult against him spoken openly would likely provoke a mob of furious commoners.
"Fine, fine. The dark green dragon that once belonged to the Iron Throne's former king. Every evening before sunset, that dragon flies out for a short flight."
A feverish gleam appeared in Rataz's eyes.
"That is our opportunity."
"That dragon is too small." Hogg still looked dissatisfied.
If a man were to ride a dragon, he believed it should be a colossal beast like Vermithor or Silverwing. Unfortunately, Vermax was the only available choice.
"Don't worry," Ben Onobal added calmly. "I've already reserved passage to Dragonstone. Several wild dragons remain there. If our information is accurate, Sheepstealer and Seasmoke are already massive dragons. It's a pity the Regent refused to release the other two wild dragons, otherwise…"
"Then it's settled." Hogg slapped the kneeling slave boy serving beside him so hard the child nearly collapsed.
"Tomorrow we tame dragons. If we fail, we sail for Dragonstone."
Beneath the villa's ornate window, the slender silver-haired teenager tightly covered the black-haired girl's mouth while crouching inside the carefully trimmed bushes, terror written across his face.
Earlier, while playing, his younger brother Alyn had suggested climbing the wall. Since the villa had supposedly stood empty for ages, Adam and the others happily agreed.
Yet when Adam and Lia climbed over the courtyard wall, they unexpectedly overheard the conversation inside and discovered the hidden slaves.
Seeing that nobody within had noticed them, Adam cautiously guided Lia back along the wall before climbing down.
"What's wrong, brother? Inside there—"
Alyn's question ended abruptly when Adam covered his mouth.
"We need to find Uncle Hugh immediately. We heard something terrifying."
Dragon's Lair City, Dragonpit.
Longze'er merely glanced once at the children.
Samantha still sniffled softly. Lingor lowered his head in shame. Aegon and Viserys awkwardly scratched their heads.
The boys had already changed into their fitted dragon-riding leathers.
"Alright. I appreciate your intentions. But next time you want to go out, inform Hofa or Sebastian first and let everyone know where you're going."
Longze'er sighed while rubbing the children's heads gently.
"Don't make us worry."
"Understood, Father… Uncle…"
"Enough talking. Time for training."
Ray had also changed into dragon-riding leathers. Nearby, Rhaena watched him mount Shadow Nightmare with unmistakable longing in her eyes.
"Lingor, you first."
Longze'er gestured for his eldest son to step forward.
"You little rascal. Today is your first day flying a dragon into the sky, and yet you still dared to—"
"Father, I was wrong." Lingor quickly lowered his head again.
Longze'er simply rested a hand atop his head.
"Alright, enough apologizing. Your intentions were good. I was only teasing you. You're a good child. All of you are good children. Now then… a good child should call for Star Song."
Lingor nodded seriously before shouting into the cave depths in High Valyrian:
"Star Song, come out. Be good."
A pleasant, almost melodic dragon roar echoed from deep within the cavern.
The first thing to emerge was a crown-like ring of horns.
Then the black dragon slowly crawled from its nest, scales glittering like stars across the night sky.
The great beast raised its neck and stared directly at the six-year-old boy.
At the same moment, Vermithor and Silverwing released deep rumbling roars together.
They were celebrating another hatchling reaching the age to fly.
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