hotmtlnovel Chapter 542: A Poison That Kills Dragonlords
Chapter 542: A Poison That Kills Dragonlords
Chapter 542: A Poison That Kills Dragonlords
Crackling...
The sparks crackled, and the bottom of the dragon egg turned a bright red. Almos closed his eyes and took a deep sniff, as if he could smell the dragon.
“Don't get your hopes up, master,” the black-robed wizard said, his deep voice resonating through the red lacquered mask as he mixed a potion.
Almos, momentarily entranced by the wizard's enigmatic smile, replied, “There's always a chance, isn't there?”
“Who knows,” the black-robed wizard responded, pouring a blood-red potion onto a gray-scaled dragon egg. The black eyes under the mask were faintly visible. “Things are always changing, like the magic tides.”
“I started out selling slaves girls, and I believe that everything is possible if you put your mind to it,” Almos said, approaching with his scepter, his eyes shining with excitement.
The black-robed wizard's calm expression did not change as the blood-red liquid touched the hot dragon egg, causing a pungent mist of sulfur to form.
“What is its effect?” Almos asked, his attention riveted on the egg.
The black-robed wizard whispered, “Dragon blood potion, just like you recruiting me from Asshai, it's nothing but a gimmick.” He extended his five pale, bony fingers to touch the gray-scaled dragon egg soaked in the potion.
Thump! Thump!
The knuckles made a dull sound like stone. “It's still useless,” the black-robed wizard said, turning to flip through a yellowed ancient book. “Blood sacrifice, a blood sorcery that deprives vitality. Why is it incomplete?”
This blood sorcerer came from the distant Lands of the Long Summer, but his work was prematurely destroyed. If the blood sorcery were complete, it would have set off a new wave in the sorcerer world.
“It's useless?” Almos was impatient. He reached out to touch the dragon egg but withdrew his hand quickly due to the heat.
Suddenly, he smelled a sweet and fishy scent and asked in a doubtful tone, “What is the main ingredient of the dragon blood potion?”
The black-robed wizard didn't even look up, responding in a bored tone, “It's obvious.”
“Aethyrys' blood?” Almos asked tentatively.
The black-robed wizard paused in his flipping through the pages and snorted. “Is he even worth?”
Hearing this, Almos's eyes widened, and he burst into unprecedented enthusiasm. “Is it true that the legend says dragons come from the Shadow Lands?”
There are many different legends about dragons. The Dothraki believe that there were originally two moons in the sky. One of them was too close to the sun and exploded, giving birth to countless dragons. The mainstream legend says that dragons were born in the Fourteen Flames of ancient Valyria. That is why they were discovered by the herdsmen of ancient Valyria and tamed and bred.
The black mage remained calm in the face of Almos' sharp questions, answering lightly, "Things are always changing."
"Is that true?" Almos, growing increasingly agitated and anxious about dealing with the dragons of the Iron Throne, urged, "Tell me, Quaithe, tell your master."
The black-cloaked wizard's dark eyes flashed with a hint of gloom beneath his painted mask. He said half-truthfully, “Who says there's only one place in the world where dragons live? It's just that humans are too weak to set foot there.”
“Where is it?” Almos's eyes lit up with curiosity.
The black-robed wizard turned his head, continuing to mix a blue potion. “The Lord of Light told me that there are three dragons in the Smoking Sea. You can try your luck there.”
“What?” Almos was stunned, processing the idea that there might be more than one young dragon in the Smoking Sea.
Zilla!
A half-pipe of scarlet blood was poured in, and the potion turned from blue to transparent, a mournful dragon roar seemingly echoing in the air.
Almos, puzzled, asked, “What is it?”
“The dead,” the black-robed wizard replied, seeming to read Almos's mind. He examined the potion carefully, muttering, “A poison made using Aethyrys' blood as a base.”
The name of the potion is "Cry of the Dead".
Cassandra smiled. “There are two good options. Father promised Master of Laws Jasper that one of his daughters would marry his son. But his son got married a few years ago, and he himself has been widowed for several years.”
Maris' eyes twitched slightly, and she wanted to say something but stopped herself. Jasper was over forty, fat, and bald. Moreover, he was nicknamed “Iron Rod.” This nickname was not a compliment to his strict law enforcement, but rather to the fact that he was a widower of many wives and was rumored to have an iron rod under his crotch that destroyed women by making them give birth.
“He's not a good choice. My mother also advised me to decline the promise appropriately,” Cassandra whispered.
Maris was overjoyed and let out a sigh of relief. But then Cassandra reached out and touched her sister's not-so-pretty face and said with a smile, “You're very lucky. Lord Rowan of The Reach has also proposed to you, You'll be a Lady to a Warden of the Realm.”
With that, she left with a brisk step.
Maris' face was stiff, and her eyes revealed a look of disgust. Lord Thaddeus Rowan, was the Warden of the The Reach. But he was a fat old man, widower of two wives, and had a large number of children. At this age, he was already half buried in the grave. Even the late Lord Borros, their father, would have called him “Uncle” Rowan.
Drizzling...
The rain was getting heavier and heavier, like a bucket of water. Maris took a long time to descend the stairs to the attic. If she remembered correctly, the castle had hired a new group of maids yesterday.
“My dear sister, I love you so much,” Maris muttered to herself, feeling the damp and cold air, wrapping her arms around herself.
...
Across the Narrow Sea, Lys.
Sailors bustled in the harbor, loading various supplies onto the ships. On the blue sea, several fleets set sail, flying the flags of the roaring lion, the burning tower, the purple grape, and more. The delay of half a month had been used to gather a large army in preparation for the invasion of Slaver's Bay.
In the Dragonpit without a roof, the Dragonkeepers were in high spirits, holding their bamboo staves and spreading out on both sides.
Boom!
Cannibal's green pupils were deep and sinister, and its hideous dragon head slowly emerged from the pit, crawling out. As it moved, a hot current of ash-smelling air surged. Even through their woolen clothing, the Dragonkeepers felt their skin tingle, as if they were being scorched by flames.
“Get down, Cannibal,” Rhaegar commanded, walking straight up to the dragon, wearing a loose black robe.
“Your Grace,” the Dragonkeepers hurriedly bowed their heads.
Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively and asked, “Where is Maekar?”
The old Dragonkeeper stepped forward and replied, “The Prince and Princess are playing behind the Dragonpit.”
“Very well, you may leave,” Rhaegar instructed. He then turned to the Cannibal, giving it a stern command to wait where it was.
...
At this time, the Targaryen children, who regarded the Dragonpit as a playground, were gathered together as usual. When Rhaegar arrived, the children were scheming and plotting.
Lyanna was sitting on the floor with her legs apart, frowning. Baelon was saying all the right things, cradling a listless Bronze dragon cub in his arms. A few meters away, Aemon, arms folded, glared at his brother, who wouldn't play with him. Baela and Rhaena stood behind Aemon, holding hands. Only Maekar, as usual, was sitting in the corner with Tyraxes, amusing himself.
“Maekar!” Rhaegar called out, beckoning to his youngest son.
Maekar turned around and exclaimed in surprise, “Father!” He quickly got up and ran over to him.
“You've grown a little fatter, little one,” Rhaegar laughed as he picked up his young son, who was as light as a swallow returning to its nest. “Are you brave enough to go with me to Volantis to find your great-grandmother Rhaenys?”
“Really?” Maekar's eyes widened, and he nodded like a chicken pecking at rice. “I want to go.”
He had heard that his father was the emperor of Volantis and that he alone had subdued the rebellious city. Of course, he wanted to go.
Rhaegar pinched his cheek and reminded him, “Volantis is still a bit dangerous, so I'm allowing you to bring your own dragon.”
Volantis was a remote place that needed a ruler. Just as Aemon, the second son, would one day inherit Lys, Maekar should become familiar with his own fiefdom early on.
“Father, where are you going?” Baelon ran over at the sound of the voice, his eyes full of hope.