Inside the castle of Summerhall, the five officials—Jon Bulwer the Steward, Bert Falwell, Mus the castellan, Balin the spymaster, and Lothor Brune, commander of the Blood Armored Men—were known by the locals as the Small Council. During the six months Lynd had been away from Summerhall, this Small Council had been handling policy decisions on his behalf. Only when they reached a deadlock would they send word to Lynd in Ny Sar for a final decision.
"What do you all make of the letter from Lord Eddard Stark?" Jon asked. After half a year of managing all manner of affairs across the Summerhall territory, he was beginning to feel overwhelmed. Streaks of gray had appeared at his temples, making him look older than Mus, though also lending him a certain authority.
"What is there to make of it?" Lothor, ever cold and disdainful, scoffed. "Master of Ships? I honestly don't know if this Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King has a brain in his head. Asking His Highness to serve as his subordinate? Does he really think the Iron Throne..."
"Lothor, that's enough," Balin cut him off. "Don't forget what the Prince said before he left—Summerhall is part of the Seven Kingdoms. We answer to the Iron Throne."
Lothor curled his lip and replied dismissively, "I just think Eddard Stark is underestimating our Prince. It's nothing but a petty provocation!"
Bert suggested, "The invitation was addressed to His Highness. It's not our place to decide. We should forward it to Ny Sar and let the Prince make the call."
"That's too much," Mus, the typically cautious one, objected. "Leaving such a trivial matter to the Prince only makes us look incompetent." Everyone knew the Master of Ships held little real power on the Small Council—less even than the Master of Laws. The royal fleet wasn't even under his control. Sending Lynd to King's Landing would just make him a figurehead, a mascot. It was an insult to Summerhall.
Jon mulled it over and eventually decided, "Reject the letter. The Prince is in Ny Sar—use that as the reason. I doubt Lord Eddard will find fault with it."
The others voiced no further objections. Then Lothor brought up another matter for discussion. "What about that red priestess from Dragonstone—Melisandre? She's no easy one to deal with. Gives me the creeps just looking at her. Lately, she's been associating with the influential folks in Redemption Town, preaching her Lord of Light nonsense. Nothing's happened yet, but if she keeps it up, trouble's bound to follow."
"What's the word from the Redemption Sept?" Mus asked.
"They're not taking it seriously at all," Lothor replied with clear dissatisfaction.
Bert said gravely, "If the church isn't concerned, we shouldn't overstep. She is, after all, the envoy of the Prince of Dragonstone."
Jon nodded in agreement.
"Keep a record of everyone she's been in contact with," Balin said in a low voice. "We'll investigate them gradually."
"Agreed," the others said one after another.
"The next matter concerns the garrison commander at Ridge City taking bribes..." Mus began, but before he could continue, shouts of alarm rang out from outside. Their expressions all changed. They stood up, drew their weapons, and rushed out into the courtyard.
There, they saw the servants in complete panic, staring up at the sky. Instinctively, they looked up as well.
Just then, a thunderous roar filled the air. A massive dragon, so large it could fill the entire courtyard, was gliding overhead.
Wyvern riders had already taken to the air to intercept the intruder, but faced with such overwhelming might, they had no choice but to fall back. Although they could still control their wyverns, the creatures clearly didn't want to approach the dragon and kept circling it from a distance.
"Is that... a dragon?" Jon asked, clearly shaken.
He wasn't alone—everyone present who had ever seen Targaryen dragon illustrations or glimpsed the Sea Dragon Cannibal felt the same doubt.
What they saw was too bizarre. The creature had no flesh—just dragonhide stretched taut over bone. Its body was crisscrossed with fissures, glowing with lava that oozed out, turned to black smoke midair, and was then drawn back in. Most striking of all were the lava-like masses glowing from within its heart, throat, and eyes, radiating a brilliant light that illuminated its entire form from the inside out. It looked utterly malevolent—like some demon straight out of the Seven Hells described in the Sept.
Faced with such an unearthly beast, no one in the castle believed their weapons could do any real harm. But the guards—including the Redemptorist Sisters, Silent Brothers, and the Chosen of the Faith—showed no fear. They gripped their weapons tightly, chanting the Seven-Pointed Star's prayers, ready to die if they had to.
The strange dragon circled the skies twice, then spotted the wide platform where the dragon roost was located and descended toward it. The Redemptorist Sisters, Silent Brothers, and Chosen of the Faith rushed toward the roost. Jon and the others moved to follow but were stopped by Lothor and Balin.
"You need to take the lift down and muster reinforcements," they ordered.
Meanwhile, Lothor and Balin ran to the armory and retrieved a dragon-hunting ballista that had recently arrived from the forge, along with two specially made bolts. They hoisted it and hurried to the roost.
When they arrived, they found the Silent Brothers and Redemptorist Sisters fully armed and arrayed for battle. The Chosen of the Faith stood ready with their large crossbows.
"Scatter! Stay spread out! Watch for dragonfire!" Lothor shouted.
Everyone obeyed, taking cover near rocks and walls where they could find relative safety if flames rained down. Lothor and Balin quickly set up the ballista at a vantage point. Balin took the lever, ready to draw the bowstring, while Lothor stood in the firing position, gripping one of the special bolts, prepared to aim.
The dragon landed on the platform. Spacious as it was for wyverns, it was tight for a creature this massive—half its body hung over the edge, while the other half rested on the platform.
Seeing it from the air had already impressed upon them its sheer size, but now, face to face, the feeling was overwhelming. The dragon stood nearly three stories tall. Real lava oozed from the cracks in its hide—they could feel the intense heat and even smell the unique scent of molten rock.
Before it landed, every wyvern capable of flight had taken off. Those that couldn't fly had been carried into the roost. Thankfully, unlike the last time, there were no unnecessary casualties.
The dragon showed no sign of hostility. Instead, it lowered its head and spread its wings slightly to form a slope. Then, to everyone's astonishment, Lynd—wearing the armor of a Banished Knight, carrying the Dragon Horn, and bearing three swords—descended from the dragon's back. A soot-covered, mutated two-headed man crawled out from beneath its wings.
Word that Lynd Tarran—Lord of Summerhall, Prince of the Narrow Sea, the Stepstones, the Free Cities of Calamity, and the Lone Country—had tamed a dragon spread swiftly through Redemption Town. Many rushed outside to catch a glimpse of the beast, whose body half-hung from the mountaintop castle.
Though Lynd had previously tamed the Sea Dragon Cannibal, that creature stayed mostly submerged. Even when it surfaced, it retreated to the dragon roost managed by the Miracle Sept, rarely seen by the public. Most had only glimpsed the silhouette of its back breaking the sea's surface.
Because of that, many had doubted the Cannibal was a true dragon. In their minds, a real dragon soared through the sky and breathed dragonfire.
But now, they had seen one.
Everyone in Redemption Town vividly remembered the awe they felt as the dragon passed overhead. Those who had studied books on dragons quickly recognized—this creature Lynd had tamed was no ordinary dragon. It felt less like a natural beast and more like something born of sorcery.
No matter how strange the dragon Lynd had tamed was, its presence alone commanded absolute awe and fear. Its deterrent force was unquestionable.
News of the event spread rapidly, reaching the hands of nobles across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond the Narrow Sea. But by now, many had become desensitized to Lynd's growing power. The news stirred little reaction—some even found it unsurprising.
In King's Landing, the city closest to Summerhall, King Robert glanced at the report and tossed it aside, heading off to a brothel to drink and indulge himself. It was Lord Eddard Stark, newly appointed as Hand of the King, who took the matter seriously. He immediately convened a Small Council meeting—the first since his appointment.
Unfortunately, the council failed to agree on any course of action. All they could do was wait and observe. Eddard, for his part, began to consider visiting Summerhall to meet Lynd in person once things in King's Landing settled down.
...
Meanwhile, back at Summerhall Castle, Lynd had already finished handling a series of troublesome political matters. He changed into a clean, casual outfit and, through the Wyvern Dragoon cavalry, summoned all senior officials involved in magical affairs under his command.
As soon as Malora and the others arrived, they caught sight of the massive dragon lying on the platform of the dragon nest. One look was enough to tell them that this was no ordinary dragon—it bore too many marks of magical modification.
Their curiosity was immediately piqued. Each of them was itching to examine the bizarre magical dragon on the platform. But even so, not one of them moved before getting Lynd's permission. They waited obediently in his study.
When Lynd arrived, he had the ancient Valyrian jars—recently unloaded from the dragon's back—brought into the study, along with several containers made of dragonglass. In front of everyone, he opened one of the jars, then used telekinesis to lift out the parasitic creatures stored inside, placing them one by one into the dragonglass containers until each container held one parasite.
Perhaps because they had been removed from their native environment, the parasites all appeared sluggish and weak, as if they wouldn't survive for long.
Next, Lynd opened another jar and took out the core fragments of the parasites—each one no bigger than a fingernail. He distributed them and laid them out on the table before addressing the group.
"I recently made a trip to the ruins of Valyria. These creatures were found there. The ones I just showed you began appearing after the Doom of Valyria. I suspect they came from underground. These small stones are the cores left behind after they die, and they still contain traces of magical energy."
Everyone fell silent. They knew just how perilous the Valyrian ruins were—an earthly hell. No one who entered had ever come back... except for Aerea Targaryen.
Malora quickly made the connection and asked gravely, "Was this what infested Aerea Targaryen?"
Lynd nodded. "I believe so. These creatures can infest people—or other beings. The dragon lying on the platform, Neltharion, was mutated after being infested by one of them. That's the name of the lava dragon—Neltharion."
"It can infest a dragon... and even cause it to mutate!"
Everyone was stunned. No one doubted Lynd's words, and their curiosity about Neltharion only deepened.
"My lord, are these specimens for us to study?" Qyburn asked excitedly, pointing at one of the containers.
"Yes. They're for your research," Lynd confirmed. "I hope you can produce results as soon as possible."
Qyburn quickly followed up. "Can I use live experiments? If these things are parasites, then their abilities must be tied to parasitism. Letting one infest a living host might reveal something useful."
Lynd was silent for a moment, then nodded. "You can, but you'll still need to file a request."
Just then, Lagz, the head of the Silent Court, stepped forward and asked, "My lord, I saw a horn in the main hall earlier. Is that the legendary Dragonhorn—the one said to let Dragonlords tame dragons?"
"It is," Lynd nodded. "I used it to tame Neltharion."
"May we study it?" asked Marloxin, the High Priest of the God of Magic.
Lynd gave his consent, but with one condition: they could only study the Dragonhorn within the castle. It could not be taken to the Black Hollow, the Silent Court, or the Temple of the God of Magic.
Once the research items had been distributed, Lynd dismissed the others, but stopped Malora before she left. He handed her several black stones, broken off from the Valyrian ruins.
"These black stones came from the meteor shower that destroyed Valyria. They contain immense magical power. You should study them."
Then he turned to Ella and Yara, the two sisters who had been quietly standing off to the side, and beckoned them over.
"I'd like you to be their teacher. Teach them magic. They might have more talent than either of us. That one is Yara, and the other is Ella—don't mix them up."