Aenar immediately summoned his steward and issued an order to liquidate all of the family's properties in the Freehold and the Lands of the Long Summer as soon as possible.
In the months that followed, House Targaryen's string of unusual actions drew the curiosity and attention of many factions.
No one had ever seen a Dragonlord family selling off their own castles—let alone something as vital as the Dragonpit, the very foundation of their lineage.
The Targaryens had gone mad!
Speculation and rumors ran rampant. Some well-informed individuals managed to uncover the reason behind Aenar's behavior, but when they heard about the prophecy foretelling the destruction of the Valyrian Peninsula, they scoffed in disbelief.
That day, Aenar sat in his study, going over the accounts.
"Though our family isn't considered powerful among the Dragonlords of the Freehold, these assets are more than enough for House Targaryen to establish a new kingdom abroad. This wealth could well serve as the foundation of a nation."
A steward in a long black robe stepped up to the doorway, standing respectfully with a letter in hand.
"Come in," Aenar said, glancing up briefly before returning to his accounts.
"Master, Lord Aegon has sent you a letter," the steward said, presenting it with a respectful demeanor and upright posture.
Aenar took the letter, opened it, and read through it.
After reading, he let out a soft sigh. "Child… I didn't expect that after all these years, you'd become the head of a guild. Hah…"
Aenar fell into brief contemplation.
Then he tossed the letter to the steward and said calmly, "Arrange a meeting for tomorrow."
The steward bowed slightly. "As you wish."
...
...
The next day.
Warm sunlight poured gently into Aegon's room. Standing before the wardrobe, he chose a striking ceremonial robe in bold black and red tones from among his many garments.
After putting it on, Aegon adjusted the hem and collar in front of the mirror.
His silver hair flowed smoothly, gleaming with a cool sheen in the sunlight. Just past twenty, he stood tall and lean, radiating the vigor and confidence of youth.
Just then, the sound of the coachman calling to the horses came from outside the window.
Aegon took a deep breath and strode out of the room.
The carriage was already waiting at the door.
He gave the coachman a slight nod, then stepped aboard.
Leaning back in his seat, Aegon silently contemplated the upcoming meeting. Truth be told, he didn't have many cards to play. It was uncertain whether he could win over House Targaryen.
With a shout from the coachman, the carriage slowly began to move, the wheels making a steady clattering sound on the stone-paved road.
Aegon gazed out the window at the bustling streets—people came and went, and shop signs swayed gently in the breeze.
As the carriage rolled farther away, the noise of the city gradually faded into the distance.
After a while, the grand castle of House Targaryen finally came into view.
Aegon stepped down from the carriage and looked up.
The castle sprawled over thousands of square meters, with towering spires rising a hundred meters into the sky. On the massive black stone walls, the banners of the Freehold flapped fiercely in the wind.
Aegon couldn't help but marvel, "House Targaryen truly is formidable. Even if they're not the strongest among the Dragonlord families, to the outside world, they're still a giant."
Just as he was about to walk toward the castle gates, an elderly man in a black robe, clearly a steward, came forward to greet him.
"Lord Aegon?" The butler greeted him with a smile and gave a polite bow.
Aegon nodded slightly.
"The master is in the castle today. Please follow me," the butler said, raising his hand in invitation.
He led Aegon through the long corridors of the castle and eventually brought him to a reception room to wait.
Moments later, the steady sound of firm footsteps echoed from outside. A middle-aged man clad in a magnificent robe embroidered with dragons stepped confidently into the room, the black-clad butler respectfully following behind.
Aegon immediately recognized the man who bore a faint resemblance to himself—this was his biological father, Aenar.
Aegon stood with a smile, gave a courteous bow, and greeted him politely.
"My lord, it is a great honor to see you today."
According to Freehold customs, a bastard was not allowed to address his biological father as "father" or "dad." This spared Aegon the awkwardness of calling a stranger by such intimate terms.
Aenar gave a slight nod, then slowly looked up, taking a good look at Aegon. The man before him had both presence and striking features. So many years had passed in the blink of an eye. If not for the traces of his childhood features still lingering on Aegon's face, Aenar might not have recognized this young man as his own flesh and blood.
"What brings you back to House Targaryen?"
Aenar walked steadily to the seat at the head of the room and sat down with composure.
"I've come for myself," Aegon answered openly.
Aenar's brows furrowed slightly. He said nothing, simply watching Aegon in silence, thinking to himself, Gaemon's mother would never agree to let you return to the family. This boy is good-looking—but how capable is he, really?
Aegon continued, "I inherited my adoptive father's guild. Not long ago, one of our merchant ships, fully loaded with goods, was struck by disaster at sea. Everything on board was lost. The guild is now on the brink of bankruptcy."
Aenar's frown eased. Only now did he realize he had misunderstood Aegon's intentions.
"So, you're here to borrow money?"
Aegon gave a slight shake of his head.
Aenar looked puzzled. "Then why have you come?"
"I heard about Daenys' prophetic dreams. The Valyrian Freehold is doomed. Now that House Targaryen is selling off all its assets, I assume you're preparing to leave Valyria."
Aenar chuckled inwardly. This was the first time he had heard of someone actually believing Daenys' dreams.
"You believe her ramblings?"
Aegon nodded with grave seriousness. "I believe them without a doubt."
"Oh? Then do you intend to leave Valyria with House Targaryen?"
Aegon shook his head. "I'm just a small-time merchant. I don't have much to my name. If I wanted to leave, I could go at any time."
Aenar grew visibly impatient, tapping the armrest of his chair.
"Enough circling around. Just say what you came for."
Aegon gave a straightforward reply. "I want a recommendation to become a dragon tamer."
Aenar let out a cold, mocking laugh.
"Even if the family leaves the Valyrian Freehold, it still falls under the Freehold's jurisdiction. Except for the legitimate heir at birth, who gets a single free chance to hatch a dragon, all other training spots require official recommendations—granted only through contribution to the Freehold. Those spots are extremely rare and valuable.
Why would I help you get one?"
Aegon now fully understood—there was little familial sentiment between them. Speaking with Aenar felt no different than a business negotiation. There was no trace of the affection that ought to exist between father and son. The air between them was cold and distant.
In the end, it came down to offering something of real value.
"My guild still owns ten large dragonhead paddle ships. All of them are at the family's disposal for free, to help with relocation."
Aenar considered this. It was certainly something he needed at the moment—but he still shook his head.
"Not enough."
Aegon had little left to offer, but he pushed forward anyway. If this didn't work, he would have to give up.
"I also own a three-story Blackstone tower. You know what real estate is worth in the capital of the Freehold—especially in such a prime commercial district."
Aenar lowered his head in thought for a moment, then once again shook it.
"Still not enough."
Aegon let out a heavy breath, his brows furrowed, his face full of disappointment. Looks like I was too naive. I thought a bit of knowledge about the future would be enough to influence people like this.
"Then I won't trouble you further."
He gave a shallow bow and turned to leave.
Aenar watched Aegon's departing figure, lost in thought. He's sharp and methodical—living up to his reputation as an early bloomer. At least he still holds some goodwill toward House Targaryen. If we're going to found a kingdom overseas, we'll need real dragon power. If his bloodline is strong enough...
With that thought, Aenar spoke to Aegon's back in an even tone.
"If you're willing to swear fealty to Gaemon, I'll grant you the recommendation."
The words of this Dragonlord hinted at a desire to keep Aegon.
Aegon paused mid-step.
He understood immediately. Aenar's meaning couldn't be clearer—he wanted Aegon to explicitly renounce any claim to the headship of House Targaryen.
One step at a time, he thought to himself.
Aegon turned to accept, but Aenar raised a hand to stop him.
"First, we test your bloodline. If you've got the talent to tame dragons, then we'll talk. But if you're not a true dragon, applying for the tournament will be a waste of everyone's time," Aenar said calmly.
Aegon nodded in agreement and walked over to the wall, holding his hand over the candle flame.
Aenar stood up and smiled.
"Some resistance to fire only means you have dragon blood. But to be a true dragon, your blood must at least reach the level of Dragonseed. Come with me—we'll go to the Dragonpit for the test."
"The Dragonpit? What kind of test…" Aegon muttered, but seeing Aenar already striding out the door, he could only follow.