Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord.

Chapter 361 A Dragonbone Bow, Three Magic Arrows
While the royal council was in high spirits, Imon swiftly made his move and arrived in Kohor.

"Open the city gates, it's me returning."

Mohr stood at the foot of the city wall and shouted to his nephew and son on the wall.

Upon seeing his uncle again, the prince was so excited that tears welled up in his eyes, and he was about to instruct the slave soldiers to open the city gates and surrender.

The tall, burly man next to him was displeased.

"Wait a minute."

Thorin Agnès La inherited his father's Valyrian features: silver hair, blue eyes, tall and imposing, but with tanned skin, and wore a fur coat in the style of Norfolk and Loras.

He stopped his cousin, Baylor, his voice booming and his demeanor arrogant, completely outshining the weak and unassuming Baylor.

however,
"Shut your dog mouth! If you don't open the city gates, do you want to watch me die?!"

Moor was so angry he was jumping up and down, pointing at his stupid son and cursing him.

Thorin immediately lost his composure, hanging his head like a fool, and stammered out, "If we open the city gates, we've lost."

Baylor ruthlessly exposed: "Based on the outcome of the Battle of Dagger Lake, we have already lost."

What a fart!

Thorin, the cousin, was a reckless man who provoked the infamous "playboy prince" Damon Targaryen, thus igniting a great war between the Iron Throne and the Free Cities.

Calling him a brute is an understatement; he's a complete idiot who doesn't even realize his own shortcomings.

But he happens to be his uncle's only son, a natural heir.

Baylor, unwilling to contend with him, allowed Thorin to run rampant.

"Open the door now, or I'll skin you alive!"

Moore continued to rant, his voice growing louder and louder, as if he wanted to vent all the suffering he had endured over the past few months.

"His language was so foul."

Dan Duoke gestured with his hands, and his subordinates translated for him.

"White Bear" Harlow was even more direct, saying with utmost respect, "That old guy really has some class when he speaks."

Imon nodded slowly, feeling that he had seen something new today.

Looks great, doesn't look bad at all!
……

In the end, Kohol's door opened.

Aemon rode a white horse slowly into the city and walked along the streets. Baelor and Thorin had their hands bound and stood on the deserted streets, waiting to be questioned.

Seeing that the two were reasonably sensible, Imon didn't make things too difficult for them.

They sent people to take over the defenses of Kohol, moved the original slave soldiers and Unsullied out of the city to garrison, and then took over the city-state in a logical manner.

"Come on, take me to see the portrait of the Dragon King Orion."

Immanuel provided More with a horse, and when he visited More's house, he felt as if he were at home, without any sense of formality.

The victor must have the awareness and resolve of a victor!

"Please come with me, Your Highness."

Moore accepted his loss without complaint, still clinging to the idea of ​​sharing a "family relationship" with his bettor.

Aemon understood his meaning but pretended not to know.

To deal with a shameless person, you have to be even more shameless than them.

You said you killed Mor and his son and nephew, and wiped out this family that was half-true and half-false, possessing dragon blood?
Totally unnecessary.

More than two hundred years later, even if the Aenion family were descendants of the Orion Dragon King, their bloodline would be extremely thin.

Similar hybrid dragon kings are plentiful in free trade city-states like Valanthi, Rhys, and Terossi.

They can't catch them all, nor can they kill them all.

Furthermore, since Mor surrendered the city voluntarily, he should not be executed.

Aegon the Conqueror was able to rule the Seven Kingdoms largely because he was ruthless towards his enemies but generous and merciful towards prisoners who were willing to submit.

If we kill all those who surrender, who will surrender in the future?

Keep it for now and see how it goes.

Soon after, they entered the luxurious estate that Mohr had built on a hill in the city of Cohol.

"My home is pretty good, isn't it?"

Thorin, bound hand and foot, followed behind the horse, a hint of smugness in his eyes.

"The castle is built entirely of white marble, and the wood is top-grade golden nanmu and rosewood transported from the Kohol Forest. I heard that the Red Castle built by Megar I was very grand. I wonder what it was like."

"Fuss."

"White Bear" Harlow glanced at him and was about to lash him with his whip.

Imon raised his hand to stop him.

Ignorance is no excuse, but why bother with an idiot?

“Your Highness, he was born with his head stuck in his chest, please don’t take it to heart.”

Moore's face darkened; he was disgusted by the embarrassment.

He had seen King's Landing and the Red Keep with his own eyes; red was the main color, and the buildings were magnificent and imposing.

No matter how good your own estate is, it can't compare to a whole city.

Amon smiled slightly, glanced around at the white marble building, and a wicked thought began to form in his mind.

It's good that you like to show off!

Who says Thorin is an idiot? This Thorin is absolutely amazing.

In the castle’s attic, Imon saw a portrait of the dragon king Orion.

"See? I didn't lie to you."

Mo'er said, feeling wronged.

After observing for a while, Imon exclaimed in surprise, "Hiss, he truly has seven-tenths of my style."

The figure in the painting has short, silver-gold hair that droops over his ears, pierced earlobes adorned with jewelry, and a pair of violet eyes that seem to be smiling but not smiling. Looking at Imon in front of the painting, he always gives the impression of having a belly full of wicked intentions.

It's like... it's like...

Imon grabbed Mor by the collar, pulled him in front of him, and questioned him rudely: "You old bastard, you didn't come up with this fake painting to fool me after you saw me, did you?"

"Your Highness, there really isn't any!"

Moore quickly offered a pretext for his denial.

Imon stared blankly into its eyes, trying to find any clues, but those bright purple eyes were clear and without any flaws.

"So weird?"

Reluctantly, he released Mo'er, a thought rising in his mind.

Imon wasn't afraid, but he felt a little uncomfortable.

There is no shortage of two people who look exactly alike in the world. The Carguy brothers and Jason and Tyrande brothers in the Kingsguard are all identical twins who have shared the same face since birth.

But Eamon was certain that he was his mother, Lady Rhea's, only son and had no twin brothers.

Especially the dragon king Orion in the painting, who lived more than two hundred years ago, a contemporary of "The Exile" Inar. It's quite astonishing that he looks exactly like Imon.

Mo'er seized the opportunity and whispered, "Your Highness, I knew it! Our ancestors have been intermarried for generations, and blood is thicker than water. It's not surprising that some people from different generations look alike."

"Shut up!" Imon said, his tone unfriendly.

Moore: "Okay."

After examining the portrait for a while, Eamon even disassembled the golden nanmu wood frame and touched the rough, aged paper with his own hands.

I still can't find any flaws.

Under Moore's tense gaze, the portrait was remounted and hung back on the wall in its original place.

"Hu~~"

Mohr breathed a sigh of relief and quickly suggested, "Your Highness, how about I have someone prepare a banquet to welcome you?"

"We'll talk about it later."

Imon wasn't thinking about eating or drinking. After seeing the portrait of the Dragon King Orion, he believed about 30% of Mor's claim that he was a descendant of the Dragon King.

But it's only about 30%.

To add even a fraction of that would be an insult to that old snake-lizard, Moore, and to one's own intelligence.

"Didn't the Dragon King Orion leave any ancestral treasures for his descendants before he passed away?"

Immon abruptly changed the subject, his eyes sharpening.

"No, no."

Moll forced a smile.

Aemon: "I don't believe it."

Without some hidden treasure, how could the Aenion-La family still remember that their ancestor was the Orion Dragon King, daring to risk offending the Iron Throne and claiming to be of true dragon blood in front of this only remaining dragon king family in the world?

There must be something they rely on.

"you……"

Imon was about to use coercion and enticement.

Rob knocked on the door and then pushed it open: "Your Highness, several blacksmiths from Kohol have come to the manor gate, saying they wish to see you to repay your generosity."

Aemon took back what he was about to say, glanced at Moore, and said, "I'll go to the hall now, and you bring the people with you."

Without some tricks, this old snake lizard won't tell the truth.

First, meet with the blacksmith in Kohol and get what you really need.

For example, the Dragon Stone Secret Technique.

……

In the elegantly decorated hall.

Aemon met the blacksmiths of Kohol as he had hoped, and a hint of joy appeared on his composed face.

At first glance, there were at least a dozen blacksmiths, both old and young.

It's great to have lots of people!

Pack them all up and bring them back to King's Landing to fill the knowledge gaps in Targaryen, and you'll also gain access to some of the world's best blacksmiths.

"Your Highness, it is an honor to see you again."

The old blacksmith Almo, with a somber expression, stepped forward as a representative and bowed respectfully in fluent High Valyrian.

Aemon smiled and helped them up, saying, "As long as you don't mind the timing of our meeting or the change in my status, I would be happy to reunite with you."

They stormed into Kohor and occupied the homes on which people depended for survival.

What if they have reservations and refuse to go with him?

"You are the noble Dragon King, and Kohol was originally a colony of ancient Valyria."

Almo showed no dissatisfaction and answered Imon's probing with his actions.

Imon was overjoyed.

While he didn't complain, he also sensed a strong sense of submission in the other person's words.

This shows that the other side, including the blacksmiths present, all had a desire to submit to the Iron Throne.

Immediately afterwards, Almo took two boxes, one long and one short, from the apprentice Ruben, solemnly held them up with both hands, and said in a deep voice:
"Please accept our return gift before you ask us the purpose of our visit."

“Of course,” Imon replied readily.

When the attempt to recruit him failed last time, he gave him a piece of fire ore as a gift, and the old blacksmith said he would give him a thank-you gift.

I didn't expect to reap the rewards so quickly.

Robert stepped forward, wanting to take the two dusty boxes.

Almo turned around, his expression changing slightly: "Your Highness, only you can open this."

"Your Highness..."

Robert spoke, then secretly shook his head.

They have just occupied Kohor, and these blacksmiths are all respected figures in Kohor. Who knows if they might take the opportunity to plot against them?

"Then I'll do it myself."

Aemon chuckled, pretending not to see anything, and took the two boxes, opening them.

Seeing this, the blacksmiths' eyes softened, losing some of their wariness and unfamiliarity and becoming warmer.

As expected of someone with true dragon blood, he certainly possesses a bold and generous spirit.

Gah!
Aemon opened the box; the longer one revealed a jet-black dragon bone bow, while the shorter one contained three strangely shaped arrows.

"Bow and arrow?"

Imon paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "You will send them to me later. I have been good at archery since I was a child."

In other words, he had no interest in hunting, and he didn't need a bow and arrow for fighting or riding dragons.

Otherwise, with his archery skills, there would be no chance for "Sharpshooter" Carrot River.

"A very good bow. The dragon in front of this bow must be quite old, as its bones contain a lot of iron."

Imon pulled on the dragonbone bow, finding it much more comfortable to use than the one he had received as a child.

The earlier dragon bone bows were too small and only suitable for children and teenagers.

With his height of 6 feet 5 inches (198.88cm), it is indeed not a good match.

This one is very good. It is over a meter long, with a black keel that is as hard as steel. The craftsmanship is superb, and it also has the flexibility of a wooden bow.

In terms of iron content alone, the keel is at least a level above the "bloodworm" Kolachu, a mature keel.

It has both high practical and collectible value.

"Your Highness, this dragonbone bow is just a bonus; the real return gift is those three magic arrows."

Almo spoke up with a crucial statement.

(End of this chapter)