Rhaenyra grits her teeth.
Aemon took a sip of wine to hide the corners of his mouth that he could not control.
"Today, I will cure the other party's stupidity.
Even if she is a princess, she shouldn't act like one around him.
I won't accept it!
Rhaenyra was furious, but there was nothing she could do. Dejectedly, she said: "I'm leaving tomorrow.
"I read the letter from Uncle."
Aemon nodded and commented sharply, "The scolding is very powerful."
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and said, "Aww, come on. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
She's leaving! Even if her work was in vain for two months, she should have some attitude."
"How far has the road been repaired?"
Aemon asked suddenly.
Rhaenyra suppressed her emotions and replied in a muffled voice, "The mountain road of Raven Ridge has been repaired halfway."
A total of fifty miles; half is twenty-five miles. A little longer than expected."
Aemon followed her gaze, appreciating her profile, and said seriously, "You built the road; you come up with a name."
The east-west road connecting the Vale of Arryn and the East Cape will be remembered for ages.
He was ready for her to name it "Princess Avenue," "National Glory Avenue," "Goddess of Plenty Avenue," and so on.
Just as a farewell gift.
"I'll name it?"
Rhaenyra turned back, and their eyes met. She hesitated and said, "But the road isn't finished yet."
"You come if I ask you to."
Aemon's eyes were firm.
Rhaenyra pursed her lips and thought deeply. "Let's call it Valley Avenue."
"Oh, why is it so ordinary?"
It was different from what he had expected.
Rhaenyra looked proud and whispered, "This is the road I built myself. Let's leave it as a gift to the people so that the name Valley Avenue will be remembered and attract more passing merchants."
Aemon put down his wine glass and stared into her clear eyes.
His vision is small.
His vision of people is small, too.
Rhaenyra snorted and circled her fingers around the hall. "Have you named this main hall where Johanna works?" she asked.
Aemon's eyes flickered, and he replied, "The Hall of Plenty."
"Oh?"
Rhaenyra was stunned when she heard it.
She had expected it to be the Rose Hall, the Black Swan Hall, or the Long Lake Hall.
Compared to the Midsummer and Evergreen Halls, the Hall of Plenty is currently used by the territory's vassals.
The only person stationed there is the housekeeper, "Black Swan" Johanna.
Aemon smiled slightly and said casually, "I suddenly remembered this name."
Each dragon in the family has a name with a deeper or shallower meaning.
For example, "Vormithor" is the "God of Blacksmiths" from the ancient Valyria period.
Balerion, known as the "Black Death," was the "God of Death" in ancient Valyria.
"Bloodworm" Caraxes is the "God of the Sea."
To sum up:
Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax, is named after the "Goddess of Plenty" from the ancient Valyria period.
"Thank you!"
Rhaenyra naturally knew the deep meaning, and a smile appeared on her face.
Her mood suddenly brightened.
"Come with me. I have a gift for you."
Aemon said nothing more and got up to go out.
"Princess, it's getting late."
Cole's expression changed slightly as he reminded him.
"It's okay."
Rhaenyra smiled and became more curious about the gift.
Seeing the princess and the prince slipping away together, Cole was torn but had no choice but to follow.
The king had instructed him to be tough before leaving.
But he couldn't be tough at all.
...
Evergreen Hall.
Two sets of footsteps, one in front and one behind, entered the prince's bedroom.
"Princess!"
Cole hurriedly caught up, and the door slammed shut. He took a step back.
He almost bumped into the bridge of his nose.
Bang!
The door opened again, and Rhaenyra poked her head out. She whispered, "You go first. I'll find you later."
Although the White Knight was tall and handsome, he was still a favorite.
She and Aemon were alone together, which was rare.
"It's really late."
Cole sighed, full of helplessness.
Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows and asked, "Are you teaching me a lesson, Cole?"
Unconsciously, she adopted the airs of a princess, something she hadn't done in a long time.
"No, I don't mean that."
Cole's face changed, and he took a step back.
He was proud to wear the white robes and liked being one of the monarch's subordinates.
"Then stay away and wait for me to find you."
Rhaenyra glared and closed the door again.
Bang!
"Is it done?"
Aemon lit a candle and held up a one-handed sword.
"He sometimes acts like an old woman."
Rhaenyra chuckled.
It's normal for the son of the Steward of Black Harbor to have some old-woman attributes.
After her mother passed away, Rhaenyra was drawn to her father's gentleness and asked him to ask Cole to be her guard.
"Your gift."
Aemon looked forward and handed over his masterpiece with both hands.
"A sword?"
Rhaenyra held out her hand and laughed dumbly. "Aemon, I can't even tell the difference between the sword body and the blade."
She idolized Queen Visenya and often copied her hairstyle.
Queen Visenya's hairstyle was neat and easy to use when facing enemies.
But she was just a girl. The nuns had taught her embroidery and the Seven Gods' beliefs, but no knight had ever taught her how to hold a sword.
"Hold it, and you will conquer it."
Aemon handed it over again.
Seeing that she couldn't refuse, Rhaenyra mustered her courage and took the one-handed sword with trembling hands.
As soon as she held it, the sword seemed to have no weight.
"Huh?"
Rhaenyra was surprised and slowly pulled out the sword.
Swish!
A flash of cold light passed by. The slender sword looked like a willow leaf covered with mottled silver-gray lines that resembled snowflakes at first glance.
The hilt of the sword curved forward, and its rounded end increased its weight.
Rhaenyra was fascinated and dazzled. It wasn't until the moonlight shone on the sword and reflected a hazy black light that she noticed.
She noticed that the hilt in her hand was polished dragon bone and felt as warm as jade.
The black dragon bone hilt had a silver ring inlaid in the middle, which was low-key yet luxurious.
A rose vine was carefully carved from the end of the dragon bone hilt, climbing up the silver hilt and blooming three enchanting roses.
In the center of the hilt, a diamond-shaped, four-pointed star was engraved.
When she poked it with her finger, a warm voice said, "The Light of the Kingdom. That is the name of this sword."
"This sword..."
Rhaenyra fell in love with it at first sight and raised her hand excitedly.
The blade flashed with a cold light and slashed toward the person in front of her.
"Be careful."
Aemon was quick-eyed and quick-handed. He held her wrist and turned it down. The blade swung toward the table where the candlesticks were placed.
No sound was made.
The blade fell lightly, cutting off a corner of the table with ease.
Rhaenyra's eyes widened, and she exclaimed in panic, "Aemon, this sword is too sharp!"
The family swords, Blackfyre and Dark Sister, were extremely sharp.
She couldn't keep it.
"Of course it's sharp. I added special materials."
Aemon explained carefully. "This sword is 60 cm long and 3 cm wide. The handle is 33 cm long. It's a standard lady's sword."
The Dark Sister, which Daemon held, was the sword that Queen Visenya wore when she was alive.
It must have the same sharpness.
"You don't understand what I mean. I don't deserve this sword."
Rhaenyra was anxious.
She didn't know how to use it. It would be better for Aemon to use it himself than for her to keep it in her hands for appreciation.
Aemon said indifferently, "Keep it; it's specially made for you."
He used all the mithril beans for this sword.
After the hundred-tempered steel was finally forged, mottled traces like snowflakes formed after the sword body was quenched.
If you say you want to give it to someone, then give it to someone.
"What do you use it for?"
Rhaenyra sheathed the sword, and her purple eyes rippled slightly.
"Me?"
Aemon waved his hand. "I'll do whatever I want."
It's not like Runestone City doesn't have the Valyrian steel sword, Lamentation.
My mother won't let me use it for the time being, but it will be mine sooner or later.
He has tested it.
The Light of the Kingdom mixed with mithril beans harvests five points of magic essence, the same amount provided by the Valyrian steel dagger.
Compared to normal Valyrian steel weapons, such as Blackfyre and Lamentation, the amount of essence is half as much.
While mithril is similar to Valyrian steel in material, the forging process is one level lower.
It is tough and sharp, but its adaptability to magic is low.
I don't know if it can kill White Walkers.
Rhaenyra hesitated and asked, "Are you really giving it to me?"
She held the sword tightly with both hands and squeezed into the ravine in front of her.
"A Targaryen is a man of his word."
Aemon said in a sonorous voice in High Valyrian.
He used a half-handed sword because a one-handed sword was too light and thin for him.
The material seemed to know his intention.
After refining the sword blank a hundred times, the impurities were removed, leaving just enough steel to make a one-handed sword.
"Thank you, Aemon."
Rhaenyra stared deeply and quietly clamped her legs together.
Aemon smiled and said it was no big deal.
He was smart and good at everything he wanted to do. The three old craftsmen regarded him as a talented blacksmith and a powerful warrior.
As long as they didn't hammer them, everything would be fine.
"I have a gift for you, too."
Rhaenyra showed her true feelings. She put one hand on his neck and tiptoed to get closer.
Aemon tilted his head and dodged.
Rhaenyra was stunned, her eyes hesitant and lost.
"Learn to restrain yourself."
Aemon's voice was soft as he lowered his head to look directly into her eyes.
"Why?"
Rhaenyra's pupils shook slightly; she didn't understand.
Their eyes met, and a warm atmosphere filled the air.
Their reflections were like two moths under the bright candlelight.
Considering the candlelight, they both wanted to bump into each other.
Aemon remembered Rhaenyra's flaws and where her mistakes began.
Emotions could not be released, and proper guidance was lacking.
She degenerated step by step, learning to use women's skirts to conquer men and making a mess of her life.
"Aemon, what should I do?"
As their eyes met, Rhaenyra seemed to understand something; her eyes were as innocent as a baby's.
But the emotions surging through her body made her breathe heavier and move her upper body forward involuntarily.
She wanted the heat.
"You are restraining yourself now."
Aemon lowered his head, escaping the burning gaze.
Dragons are chaotic and disorderly.
When one dragon is restless, the others can't escape the response.
However, the time is not yet right.
They are not old enough yet, and they are afraid of causing death.
"I understand."
Rhaenyra smiled gently, handed the "Light of the Kingdom" to the other dragon, and placed her free hand on her belt behind her back.
"You..."
Aemon raised his head, wondering what she understood.
Bang.
A touch of white flashed by. A warm touch hit his face, and a faint, creamy fragrance penetrated his nose.
Outside the window, moonlight shone.
"Meow~"
A pleasant cat cry came from the Hall of Plenty door.
"Eat slowly; it's all yours."
Johanna crouched on the ground, quietly watching the obese cat eat.
A sheep was tied to the ground and trembling with fear.
The obese cat stood on its hind legs and lay on the sheep's belly to suckle.
It was still a kitten.
Since it had no mother's love since childhood, it should have consumed more milk.
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