Chapter 3 – King of the Dothraki!
System!
When Lance heard that word, excitement surged through him uncontrollably.
He quickly opened his eyes—and sure enough, a semi-transparent panel appeared before him!
[Name: Lance Lot]
[Acquired Title: Kingsguard (Incomplete) — A]
[Available Templates: None]
[Available Template Draws: A-Rank ×1]
[Bonus: Since the host's first acquired title has reached A-Rank, you are rewarded with one SS-Rank Character Experience Card!]
The interface was simple and clear, easy enough for Lance to understand at a glance.
That "Kingsguard (Incomplete)" clearly meant he wasn't a true member of the Kingsguard yet. After all, he didn't even have a decent sword in his hand, and here in this desolate place, it was just him and Aerys. Perhaps only after returning to King's Landing and being formally knighted before the court would he truly gain the full Kingsguard title.
But that could wait.
Right now, the most important thing was—the template draw!
Heart pounding, Lance tapped open the A-Rank template draw interface. A dazzling prize pool spread before his eyes:
[White (D-Rank 10%): Lancel Lannister, Young Walder Frey, Old Hosteen Tully …]
[Green (C-Rank 15%): Patrek Mallister, Edmure Tully, Meryn Trant …]
[Blue (B-Rank 20%): Janos Slynt, Greatjon Umber, Beric Dondarrion …]
"Tch… all small fry." Lance lost interest in scrolling further down.
Still, the fact that even trash like Janos Slynt could sit at the same tier as Greatjon Umber meant the system clearly wasn't judging by his personal bias. That coward must've had some hidden qualifications after all.
Fortunately, the odds of pulling from A-Rank and above were much higher, so it wasn't likely he'd end up stuck with one of these mediocrities.
Now—time to see who was in the real prize pool.
Lance rubbed his palms together in anticipation.
[Purple (A-Rank 40%): Eddard Stark, Jaime Lannister (pre-amputation), Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane "The Hound," Gregor Clegane "The Mountain" …]
"Hah! Now we're talking!"
Lance's eyes lit up in delight. Every single name was a powerhouse—legends known to anyone who had ever heard the tales of Westeros.
If he could obtain one of those templates, Lance knew he could become a renowned knight anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms.
But…
That still wasn't enough.
Escaping Stonedance with Aerys at his side—those names alone wouldn't make it possible.
Keep looking.
[Red (S-Rank 10%): Khal Drogo, Oberyn Martell, Syrio Forel, Rhaegar Targaryen…]
As expected, the S-Rank templates were much stronger—every single one of them monstrous in their own right.
Lance, however, couldn't help but raise a brow. Drogo? Oberyn "The Red Viper"? And they were only S-Rank? Then what kind of monsters sat at SS or SSR?
Swallowing hard, he scrolled further down. A burst of golden light nearly blinded him.
[Gold (SS-Rank 4.9%): Barristan Selmy (prime), Robert Baratheon (youth), Arthur Dayne, Daemon Targaryen, Maegor Targaryen…]
"What—?! Even Arthur Dayne is only SS?"
That was the Sword of the Morning himself! If he wasn't top tier, the system must be broken.
But… on second thought—Lance's heartbeat quickened. If Dayne was only SS, then the ones at SSR… he already had a suspicion.
With breath growing ragged, he opened the SSR tier. His eyes widened as streaks of prismatic darkness filled the screen.
[Black (SSR-Rank 0.1%): Azor Ahai, Wielder of Lightbringer!]
[Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons!]
[Ser Galladon of Morne, The Perfect Knight!]
[Garth Greenhand!]
[…]
"Seven Hells…"
Every single name was a legend from the Age of Heroes, with the lone exception of Daenerys—though in truth, her place among them was well-earned. She had three dragons, after all. By blood alone, her gift for dragon-riding surpassed even Aegon the Conqueror himself.
No teachers, no tradition—yet she had tamed three dragons on her own, immune to fire, ruling flame itself. That alone made her legend undeniable.
If Lance could draw one of these…
Wait. If he actually got Daenerys, would the system hand him dragons too? Or would he be left as "the Mother of Dragons" without any dragons? A glance at the pitiful 0.1% odds put that thought to rest.
No use dreaming. S or SS would already be a miracle.
---
"You may rise now, Ser Lance Lot."
Aerys' hand rested lightly on his shoulder. Seeing his newly-appointed Kingsguard still kneeling and trembling, the king assumed it was excitement from the honor bestowed upon him.
But Lance wasn't trembling from loyalty. His blood boiled from the sheer anticipation of the draw.
"Show me… show me how far this power can go."
"Draw!"
At his command, the templates began to spin. Countless cards, each glowing with different colors—white, green, blue, purple, red, gold, even prismatic black—shuffled past in a blur.
And then—
A crimson glow rose before his eyes.
"Yes!" Lance clenched his fists. "An S-Rank!"
It wasn't the ultimate jackpot, but neither was it a failure. Ten percent odds, and he'd hit it. Good enough.
Still, he vowed—he would find a way to reach the higher draws.
The scarlet card dissolved into motes of light and sank into his body.
[Current Template: Khal Drogo (Assimilation 30%)]
[Description: The Great Khal of the Dothraki Sea. His braid, unbroken in countless battles, reached to his heels. A warlord whose strength was unmatched… until death came by a common wound.]
["I will lead my khalasar west to the ends of the world. I will ride wooden horses across the black salt water and do what no Khal before me has ever done!"]
Power surged through Lance's veins. His wounds sealed, his muscles burned with vigor, every inch of his body brimming with violent strength. For a moment, he felt as though he could punch through stone walls.
Deep breaths steadied him. It wasn't true invincibility, only the intoxicating rush of sudden power.
At last, he stood tall.
"Why, Your Grace?"
Aerys blinked at the sudden question.
"Why choose me? I'm no knight. Just a worthless blacksmith. I landed here because I angered a noble for beating his favourite whore."
The king grinned, his violet eyes gleaming with madness. He brushed the dust from Lance's shoulder and said softly:
"Perhaps… because you look so much like the man who last wore that white cloak."
"…A Kingsguard?"
"Yes." Aerys nodded, his voice almost reverent.
"For more than half a year, every night, I have prayed to the Seven and spoken his name—Ser Gwayne Gaunt. And now… you are his heir. His successor."
"My Kingsguard."
"So protect your king. Get me out of this cursed dungeon."
For a heartbeat, the madness in Aerys' gaze flickered, and Lance glimpsed the wise, vibrant, charismatic king he might once have been.
Lance lowered his head. Silence hung between them.
When he raised his eyes again, his blue irises burned with a light even more unhinged than Aerys'. The scent of blood, tinged with wild grass, filled the air. His body shifted in subtle, primal ways—his muscles, his very bones, shaping themselves for the curve of a Dothraki arakh.
"I will lead you out, Your Grace." His voice was low, steady, filled with conviction.
"Not only that—Denys Darklyn, and all who dared defy the might of House Targaryen, will pay the price in blood."