Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord.

Chapter 331 The Missing Dragon King

In fact, such good things do happen.

While the governor of Cohol received his nephew, Beller, whom he regarded as his successor, and the two went into the study in the castle attic.

After Moore asked his nephew about his mission to Damon's town and the agreement reached between them to make a false peace, he noticed that his nephew looked hesitant to speak.

"Just tell me what you have to say."

Without the hooded priest riding on his head, Mor was in high spirits and looked more relaxed.

Baylor took a deep breath and lowered his head: "Uncle, you must believe me about what I've discovered."

He then recounted in detail his first encounter with someone resembling Prince Aemon, who looked exactly like his ancestor.

Mohr froze, first frowning in deep thought, then abruptly stood up.

Seeing this, Prince followed his uncle upstairs and into the bedroom where portraits of their ancestors hung.

"Is the person you're talking about really exactly like him?"

Moore's expression was grave as he pointed to the portrait hanging on the wall.

The ink painting framed in golden nanmu wood is well preserved. The painting depicts a young man wearing a white linen shirt, with short, silver-gold hair hanging down to his ears, violet eyes, and a handsome face that exudes a hint of coldness as he stares intently at the person in front of him.

"it is true."

Upon seeing the portrait, Baylor became even more convinced of his idea, explaining, "If that person had short hair, washed off the concealing dye, and had pierced earlobes with snake-dragon earrings, it would be practically the same person."

"Hiss!~~"

Mohr was surprised and examined the portrait more carefully.

The dragon kings of ancient Valyria were extravagant and loved beauty. Both men and women wore cool white linen shirts and adorned their ears, necks, and wrists with ornaments symbolizing their family, seeking a simple yet luxurious style.

The young man in the portrait is the ancestor that the Annion-La family firmly believes to be.

One of the surviving dragon kings after the apocalypse, Orion the Dragon King, proclaimed himself Emperor of the Free Fortress Empire. He recruited soldiers in Kohol, rode a giant dragon, commanded 50,000 cavalry and infantry, and vowed to return to the Valyrian Peninsula to restore the glory of ancient Valyria.

The name of this young dragon king is no longer verifiable, but his deeds have been passed down through generations in Kohor.

Unfortunately, after he rode the dragon and led his army on his journey, he disappeared from the sight of the world.

Nobody knows where he went.

No one knows whether he is alive or dead.

Like a dazzling shooting star, it quietly streaked across the night sky, leaving only a faint, unforgettable trace.

"If that's the case, then things get complicated."

Morse's voice was low as he conceived the idea of ​​traveling to Westeros to meet Prince Regent Aemon Targaryen.

He also shared his thoughts with his nephew.

"No, Uncle!"

Baelor was alarmed and hurriedly advised, "The city-state has just gotten on the right track, and there are still voices of opposition against you in secret. Moreover, Daemon Targaryen, the younger brother of the King of the Iron Throne, makes no attempt to hide his malice towards us. If you go there, won't you be walking into a trap?"

What's the difference between that and giving it away for free?
"I'll think about it."

Moore remained silent for a moment, without making a decision.

The prince offered a few more words of advice and then left the palace to let him rest.

In the bright candlelight, Moore sat alone on the red carpet in Ries, frowning as he stared at the portrait on the wall.

There was something he was keeping from everyone.

This includes his most valued nephew, Prince, whom he considered his heir even before his son.

That is…

Their ancestor, the Dragon King Orion, died, and was murdered.

He wasn't sure if his family was descended from the Dragon King Orion, he didn't know if his mother was an unknown prostitute, or whether true dragon blood flowed in his veins.

But the only thing he was certain of was that the Dragon King Orion had been murdered.

At least that's what his father told him, according to the family secrets passed down through generations.

Orion the Dragon King did indeed proclaim himself Emperor of the Free Fortress Empire, recruiting a large army in Kohol and riding a ferocious dragon.

However, not long after the army set out, a mutiny broke out in the army one night.

In the chaos, the Dragon King Orion was killed. His dragon, a powerful creature described in records as having a brownish-yellow body and black stripes on its scales, was pierced through the wing by a scorpion crossbow and fell to its death from the sky.

The tens of thousands of soldiers were wiped out in the infighting and the dragon's final counterattack, leaving only a handful of survivors.

This secret was kept in the records of Orion's confidants who protected the woman he had impregnated in Cohort, and passed down among the heads of the Anion-La family in each generation.

It's impossible to tell whether it's true or false now.

Moore frowned, feeling that the secret had been censored, with important information missing from most of the truth.

How could an army of tens of thousands have all died overnight?

Besides, how could a dragon, such a powerful creature, be so easily killed by a ballista?

At the very least, the dragon's remains disappeared along with the Orion Dragon King.

There must be some untold secrets here.

"Sigh, I'm overthinking it."

Moore sighed helplessly, dismissing the unrealistic ideas from his mind.

Regardless of how the Dragon King Orion died, his remains have now vanished without a trace.

He should think carefully about his family.

The first two words of a free trade city-state are "freedom." It can be ruled for generations by faiths such as hooded priests or bearded monks, but it will not recognize the rule of a single family or clan.

It would be better if he were alive, but if he were dead, his nephew, Beller, would certainly be unable to suppress the rioters in Kohol.

Of course, he has to live until he dies.

Damon Targaryen was right outside Corhol, eyeing the city-state and him. The thought filled Mor with a seething rage.

That damned Priestess of the Head; if only he had retaliated against Daemon sooner, or established diplomacy with the Iron Throne, he wouldn't be in such a passive position.

Currently, the King of the Iron Throne is a kind-hearted man who accepted the gifts from Kohor's envoy and promised to maintain peace.

But the king's will seemed unable to influence his own brother.

"We still need to start with the Iron Throne."

Moore stared at the portrait on the wall, sitting motionless on the carpet as if in meditation.

……

"Hiss!"

"Hiss..."

On the east coast of Dragonstone Island, two enormous creatures, each nearly twenty meters long, flew through the air, baring their fangs and claws as they attacked each other.

The gray shadow was agile, its sapphire vertical pupils filled with rage. It flew almost vertically in mid-air, using its sharp teeth and claws to tear and bite.

Its opponent, a young dragon with most of its scales in cobalt blue and its jaw, belly, horns, and claws in the color of copper foil, was equally formidable, flying and fighting while spewing forth raging dragon flames.

"Go Terserion!"

Darren crouched behind a large rock on the east coast, his big eyes fixed on the two dragons fighting, clenching his fists and shouting for the dragon he favored.

Tserien lived up to expectations, maintaining a clear advantage despite their similar size and thoroughly beating Grey Shadow.

Both young dragons are very talented, and their focus is on the intensity of their dragonfire.

However, the power of the Dragon Flame form is different.

Terserion's dragonfire is cobalt blue, and it spews forth quickly and fiercely, having once easily blasted open the black iron gate at the foot of Dragon Mountain where it was imprisoned.

In contrast, Gray Shadow's Dragonfire form continuously accumulates power in its fireballs, making them more powerful and explosive, but unfortunately, the wind-up animation is too long.

Seizing the opportunity to get close by the skilled fighter Tesiris, he was immediately put in a difficult situation and couldn't spit out a single dragonfire fireball for quite some time.

Its light gray-white dragon body is relatively thin, and compared to the magnificence of ordinary dragons, it is better at hiding and ambushing. It's like a mage assassin being attacked by a fast-paced warrior and getting thoroughly harassed.

"Tsk tsk, how embarrassing... what a disgrace to the dragon!"

Even from a distance, Imon felt ashamed of the gray figure being pounced on and torn apart by Tserien.

The Gray Shadow is adept at stealth and evasion, conquering territory on the front lines, and its Dragonfire Fireballs are also highly effective in causing damage.

However, when facing their own kind, they give up their advantages in size and age and are almost always the ones who get bullied.

"It will be killed by the half-crippled Yang Yan in a one-on-one fight. Will it just be the last one standing because of that?"

Immon paused, realizing he had discovered a blind spot.

"Hiss!!"

After a long while, the gray shadow finally managed to unleash a three-meter-diameter fireball of dragon flame, which struck Terserion squarely in the chest and abdomen, nearly blasting him off the cliff.

While Terserien was injured and struggling in mid-air to avoid falling into the sea.

The light gray-white thief dragon flapped its wings and ran away, flying into the clouds with a dog-like manner. With a splash, the clouds swayed, and it disappeared in an instant.

"Huh!~~"

Amon grinned and then involuntarily raised his middle finger.

What a disgraceful guy. Don't even mention it's his doing; the Valley can't afford to lose face like that.

"Heave-ho, heave-ho..."

Behind him, Jaheris carried a bucket and watered the newly planted mushroom saplings, which had been growing for a week, on time every day.

It has grown into a mushroom, about a foot tall, with a thick, bouncy red and white cap. It trembles slightly when you pat it, which is very fun.

"Prince, it's time to practice meditation."

After watering the mushroom tree, Langwu called out to Jaheris, who was playing with it, smiled and nodded at Imon, and led the scholar back to study.

Jaeheris touched the mushroom cap and followed his respected teacher to the foot of Dragon Mountain to practice meditation in the natural environment.

Besides him, there were two other boys with silver hair and purple eyes.

Adam and Eling, the illegitimate children of a sea serpent.

Adam and Erin act as Jack's servants, taking care of Jack and helping him learn alongside Langwu.

But instead of learning meditation, they practice horse stance and toughen their bodies under the scorching sun.

According to Langwu's original words, the prince learned meditation to enhance his wisdom and benevolence, while his servants honed their physical skills and practiced swordsmanship as guards.

Originally, his maesters included Daren, Aegon the Younger, Gaimon, and the twins.

But without exception, none of the little ones had the patience or talent to persevere.

Darren and Gaimon, on the other hand, wanted to train their bodies alongside Adam and Erin to grow into powerful warriors.

Langwu refused Darren's request, arguing that the prince didn't need to learn these things; it was more important for him to focus on acquiring knowledge and trying to cultivate a relationship with the dragon.

They agreed to reject Gaimon, reasoning that even if Adam and Elin trained for a lifetime, they would never be able to beat Gaimon, who grew up naturally.

There's no need to suffer, and you won't learn anything useful.

"Father, let's have dinner together later."

Jahelis left reluctantly.

Just as Aemon was about to pat his son's head, he heard the heavy breathing of the maester Gladius behind him.

"Your Highness, a letter from King's Landing."

Gladius, panting, pulled an envelope from the wide sleeves of his maester's robe and said with difficulty, "The King says that the Consul of Corhol, Mor Aignon La, received the messenger, Ser Ethan, and accepted the King's invitation to visit King's Landing."

? ?
Imon was taken aback, wondering if he had misheard.

(End of this chapter)