Chapter 48: The Blade in the Stone and the Reclaimed Blood
The journey south from Myrosh to Drasaho County was deliberately understated. Maegor, Kaeto, and Miron traveled as unassuming merchants, their silver hair dyed black, their true identities hidden beneath common cloaks. They moved swiftly, half a day's ride bringing them to the bustling city of Naeros, the seat of Drasaho County. Naeros was a prosperous inland city, its markets teeming with goods from across Essos, its streets a labyrinth of merchants and travelers.
As they ventured into the city, Maegor, with Kaeto's guidance, began to subtly gather information. They spoke to merchants, innkeepers, and local gossips, casually inquiring about prominent families, particularly those involved in trade. It didn't take long for the name Duskryn to surface, always spoken with a tone of quiet respect. They learned of their successful trade consortium, their reputation for shrewdness and discretion, and their comfortable, understated estate within the city walls.
Maegor, however, did not go directly to the Duskryn estate. He had another purpose in the city. He directed Kaeto to lead them to the slave markets. The sight of human beings bought and sold filled him with a cold disdain, a stark contrast to the Dothraki's practice of taking slaves in war. But he was here for a different kind of acquisition. He moved through the pens, his eyes, hidden beneath his hood, scanning the faces of the enslaved. His Valyrian Insight (Tier 3) hummed, allowing him to subtly detect latent talents, hidden skills, or even faint traces of valuable bloodlines.
He found several individuals who piqued his interest: a young man with a keen, intelligent gaze who spoke multiple languages, a woman with nimble fingers skilled in intricate weaving, a burly former soldier whose posture spoke of discipline despite his chains, and a quiet, observant boy who moved with an almost unnatural stealth. These were not just laborers; they were potential assets. Maegor, with his deep coffers, purchased them without fanfare.
"Miron," Maegor commanded, his voice low, "take these individuals. Ensure they are treated well. Take them back to Myrosh Castle. They are to be integrated into our household, or trained for specific roles as their talents dictate. They are no longer slaves; they are now my subjects." Miron, ever efficient, nodded and departed with the newly acquired individuals, a small, discreet group heading back north.
That night, Maegor, Kaeto, and Ghost (who had remained hidden in their private quarters) stayed at a quiet inn. Maegor spent the evening reviewing the intelligence on the Duskryns, preparing for the audacious meeting that awaited them.
The next morning, Maegor and Kaeto, still in their unassuming attire, presented themselves at the gates of the Duskryn estate. The estate was modest by Magister standards, but clearly well-maintained, a testament to quiet prosperity. They requested an appointment with the head of the house, claiming to be merchants seeking new trade partnerships.
A servant, polite but wary, led them through a pleasant courtyard to a well-appointed solar. Seated behind a large, polished desk was Ser Aegon Duskryn, a man in his late fifties. He carried himself with a quiet dignity, his features hinting at a noble lineage, though his hair was a respectable brown, and his eyes a calm grey. He was clearly a man of intellect and shrewd business acumen.
Aegon looked up as they entered, his gaze sharp and assessing. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm, "how may I assist you?"
Maegor stepped forward, a faint, knowing smile on his face. He extended a hand. "Ser Aegon Duskryn. A pleasure. My name is… Maegor. And this is my associate, Ser Kaeto." He paused, his gaze fixed on Aegon. "I must commend you, Ser Aegon. Your parents chose your name well. Aegon. A name of conquerors, of kings. A name that speaks of greatness. Your father must have had immense hope for you."
Aegon's calm demeanor faltered slightly. His eyes, usually so composed, flickered with a hint of unease. The compliment was too specific, too knowing. He had dismissed his "dragon dreams" as mere nightmares, but the feeling of being seen, truly seen, by this stranger was unsettling.
Maegor did not wait for a reply. Without hesitation, he reached for Blackfyre. The legendary sword slid from its scabbard with a soft, ominous hiss. Its blade, the color of deepest night, seemed to drink the light from the solar. Aegon's eyes widened in profound shock, recognizing the impossible blade.
Maegor then strode to the center of the room and, with a single, fluid motion, plunged Blackfyre's tip into the polished stone floor. The ancient Valyrian steel, impervious to common stone, sank effortlessly, humming faintly, its dark presence dominating the chamber.
Maegor looked directly at Aegon, his purple eyes burning, his voice ringing with absolute, undeniable authority, imbued with the full power of Draconic Persuasion and Royal Authority.
"Aegon Targaryen Duskryn," Maegor declared, speaking the full, forbidden name, the true lineage that Aegon had kept hidden for decades, even from most of his own family. "Son of Prince Duncan Targaryen, who was disinherited by his father, King Aegon V. I, Maegor Targaryen, second of my name, King and Count of Ergos, do hereby declare that disinheritance null and void! Your father's sacrifice was noble, but it severed a vital branch of our House. Your family, the Duskryns, are hereby welcomed back into the fold of House Targaryen. You are legitimate. You are blood of the Dragon."
Aegon stared, utterly stunned. His face drained of color, then flushed with a profound, overwhelming emotion. His carefully constructed life, his decades of secrecy, shattered by a single declaration from a silver-haired youth wielding the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. Tears welled in his eyes, tears of shock, of relief, of a lifetime of hidden burden finally lifted. He fell to his knees, not in fear, but in absolute, fervent fealty.
"My King!" Aegon choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It… it is true! I… I am yours! My life, my family, my blood. All yours!"
"Rise, Aegon Targaryen Duskryn," Maegor commanded, his voice softer now, but no less firm. "You are no longer a hidden branch. You are a pillar of my new kingdom. From this day forward, your house will raise its own banner alongside the Targaryen sigil. You will be the new Lord of this town, and your line will prosper under the Dragon's protection."
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity for the Duskryn household. Under Maegor's direct command, and with the quiet efficiency of Ser Kaeto, the Duskryns swiftly gathered their belongings and sold their properties around Naeros. Their vast riches, accumulated over decades of shrewd trade, were converted into portable assets.
Maegor appointed Ser Aegon Duskryn as the Lord of a small town within the Dilora Barony, a prosperous settlement strategically located to serve as a hub for trade and administration. The town, by Maegor's decree, was immediately renamed Dusk Town, a permanent testament to the return of Aegon's lineage. The Duskryn family, with their wealth and their newly acknowledged Targaryen blood, quickly took over the town center, becoming its undisputed ruling family.
Maegor had not just found a lost branch; he had transplanted it, securing its loyalty and its resources, and planting another seed for his burgeoning dynasty. The Dragon's reach was indeed long, and its embrace, though firm, promised power and legacy.