I found Isaac in the study, his dull eyes examining the Valyrian steel armor with an expression that might have been appreciation on anyone else. On him, it was barely a flicker of interest before his attention shifted to me.
"Master Dracula," he said, turning fully. "You've returned."
"I have," I replied, but I didn't step into the study in full. Instead, I remained on the doorstep, my focus on the jewel that Isaac had stabbed his forge knife into. That was one way to sidestep the ward, I supposed. What Isaac had done was... genius, if I was being honest. The ingenuity behind using the forge dagger conceptually, I didn't even think he realized the full extent of what he did.
I watched the intricate ward matrix for a second, watched as it tried to subvert my forgemaster's machinations, but I knew that as long as the knife remained in the jewel, there was nothing it could do. My intellectual curiosity sated, I stepped into the room and continued speaking. "And I've brought something that requires some degree of attention."
Isaac moved from the armor he had been inspecting and sidled up to my side. His gaze dropped to the bundle in my arms, wrapped in my cloak. I moved to the desk, carefully pushing aside the papers and scrolls that covered its surface with my free hand. Then I set the bundle down and unwrapped it.
The eggs gleamed dully in the dim light filtering through the study's windows. I still could not get over their size, but what caught my attention most was their coloring. Both eggs shared the same pattern, scales of deep black with what looked like patches of grey that were symmetrically placed on both eggs.
Isaac moved closer. Despite my reveal of the eggs, his expression remained unchanged, but his movements grew gentle and deliberate as he reached out. Then he hesitated for a second before looking to me for permission. I nodded in response to his gaze, and he reached out fully.
He randomly touched one, his hand caressing the scaled egg, fingers tracing the grey patterns across the shell. "It's warm. Are they supposed to be?"
"I believe so. These are dragon eggs," I said. "I found them on the landing pad, protected by the skeleton of their mother. She died shielding them during the Doom, a sacrifice that I would not allow to go to waste."
"So they're alive?" Isaac asked, though it wasn't really a question. He could feel it too, that subtle pulse of life beneath the shell. Even discarding physical senses, any sorcerer or mage worth his salt should feel the sheer magic in the shell. It tasted like potential.
"Very much so." I picked up one of the eggs, feeling the warmth seep through the scales.
"But are they aware?"
I pondered the question for a moment. Were the baby dragons in the egg aware? I was not certain. I could try skinchanging into them, but that was risky. If their minds were not fully formed, they could break under the strain of mine regardless of how careful I was, and I didn't come this far to get mentally disabled dragons.
"I'm not sure. We will need answers from someone who actually knows something about dragons beyond what I've pieced together from observation." My gaze traveled the study.
Isaac understood immediately, and he turned to his night creatures, the two shambling forms that had been standing motionless in the corner. "Bring the Archmaester here, regardless of whatever has his interest. If he refuses..." He glanced at me, like a child watching for a parent's reaction. I said nothing, so he turned once more to the night creatures. "If he refuses, drag him by his chains if you have to."
The creatures groaned in acknowledgment and shuffled out of the room. I could hear them moving through the building, their heavy footsteps echoing in the corridors.
It took fifteen minutes, during which my attention slowly drifted from the dragon eggs to the scattered pile of papers I had pushed aside.
When Marwyn finally arrived, he was clutching a book to his chest and looked distinctly annoyed at being manhandled by undead servants. Gerion trailed behind him, and if he didn't look mad and gaunt, the smile on his face at the Maester's misery would've been charming. Instead, it was anything but. Marwyn grumbled under his breath, something about annoying forgemasters, but the moment his eyes landed on the eggs on the table, all irritation vanished, and the book he had been clutching dropped unceremoniously.
"Seven hells," he breathed, moving forward without waiting for permission. His hands hovered over the eggs, not quite touching. "Are these... these can't be..."
"Dragon eggs," I confirmed. "I suppose you're familiar with them?"
"Of course I am. When I made my way to Volantis, I had the chance to befriend one of the Old Bloods, a scion with an unbroken descent from old Valyria. He showed me around their palace, and in the family's showroom was a dragon egg. However, it was more lump of stone than egg." Marwyn replied, his attention more on the egg than on me. Then he finally touched one, and his eyes widened. "These eggs are different. They're alive. I can feel it. They're not petrified or dormant, but..." He looked up at me. "Where exactly did you find them?"
"Under the ribcage of a dragon skeleton. The mother, I suppose. She died protecting them, used her body as a shield while the Doom raged across." I explained for what felt like the hundredth time.
"That explains the preservation." Marwyn carefully picked up one of the eggs, examining it from every angle. "If the magic here in Valyria never died, then these eggs stayed in an environment rich enough in magic to keep them alive." He set it down and picked up the other one. "And the coloring... it's extremely rare for two dragons in the same clutch to have such similar coloring."
"How rare?" I asked, curious.
"Unheard of, in most cases. Dragons from the same clutch usually have distinct colorations, different enough that you can tell them apart at a glance." He turned the egg over in his hands. "But this... the patterns are all but identical. I'd wager these are twins."
"Twins?" Isaac repeated.
"Dragon twins. It happens, though rarely. When it does, the twins tend to be either perfectly bonded or violently opposed to each other. Nothing in between." Marwyn continued to cradle the egg like it was his child until I cleared my throat. Then, with a bashful expression that would've fit better on a child, he set the egg down carefully on the cloth and cleared his throat.
"I suppose, with the discovery of the eggs, we'll be returning to the castle after we leave here. Surely we can't risk anything befalling them during further exploration."
Gerion, who had been resting against the door, uninterested in the conversation about the eggs, finally perked up at the sound of leaving. Instead of replying, I gave a vague hum in response before turning to the book Marwyn had dropped.
"Judging by the book you brought along, I suppose you have found the library, correct?"
Marwyn perked up at once. "Yes, of course, and you won't believe the fountain of knowledge that was stored there. It's a treasure trove, I promise, both of knowledge and artifacts." At the word artifact, I could feel my elf-like ears twitch in response, even as I maintained Dracula's patent calm.
I changed the track of the conversation and gestured toward the papers still on the desk. "I assume you can read the writing better than I could with what little you've taught me."
"Of course." Marwyn moved to the desk, his attention shifting to the papers Isaac had found earlier.
I watched as he sorted through them, his lips moving silently as he read the Valyrian script. After a few moments, he let out a low whistle.
"What is it?" I asked.
"These documents, well, most of it is not actually important." He spread several papers across the desk. "But there's a fair enough amount to understand things. Starting from what we already know, this manse belonged to House Thalraxes. One of the Forty Families."
"What else do the documents say?"
Marwyn picked up another sheet, then another, his eyes scanning rapidly as he spread them out. "These are mostly documents on their holdings scattered across the Valyrian peninsula. Properties in the main city, estates in the outer colonies. A list of family members, their dragons, bloodline records..." He paused, focusing on a particular document. "And here, the Patriarch's personal dragon. Vexarion the Eternal. Gene-forged, via flesh and blood magic, and enhanced beyond normal draconic capabilities. It was called the Bastion of House Thalraxes."
"Vexarion," I said softly. It was probably the name of the dragon that birthed the eggs. Still, I felt a nagging curiosity. "How large would a dragon like that be?"
"It was supposedly an old and massive dragon, and such dragons were the pride of the old families. Larger, stronger, more intelligent than naturally bred dragons. If this Vexarion was the Patriarch's personal mount..." Marwyn looked up at me. "Why do you ask?"
"Because there's a dragon dead above us, but there is another in the skies above Valyria. One large enough to blot out the sun. One that's been here for four hundred years."
Marwyn and Gerion went pale. "You saw it?"
"Felt it clearer when I was on the landing pad, but I'd always known it was here since we landed. We've just been too small for it to notice or care."
"I've seen it once," Gerion finally spoke up. We turned as one to meet him, but he didn't meet any of our eyes. Instead, he looked out of the stained glass. "I would rather not talk about it if I can." I watched him for a moment longer, watched the way his veins bulged as something moved beneath them. Then I turned away and back to Marwyn.
"I don't think the dragon would be a problem, but either way, we are going to leave soon. But before we do, I need to understand how to read Valyrian better if I'm to share the library with you."
Marwyn nodded slowly. "Of course. We'll simply make use of the library. If anywhere has the resources to teach you to read and write High Valyrian properly, it's there."
"How long will it take?"
"To learn a language? For most people, years. For you..." Marwyn studied me thoughtfully. "With your intellect? Days, if we focus solely on reading comprehension and discard writing. You don't need that right now."
"Then we go to the library." I looked at Isaac. "Gather what you can from this study. The armor, the sword, anything that looks important. We'll take it with us when we leave."
Isaac nodded and began sorting through the room's contents with methodical efficiency.
Marwyn led the way down to the ground floor, through corridors I hadn't explored yet, until we reached the library he'd mentioned. The doors were already open, the wards disrupted, and the broken corpses of small stone statues littered the floor.
The library was exactly what I'd hoped for. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, all preserved by the same magic that had kept the rest of the manse intact. Tables were scattered throughout the space, each one topped with a Valyrian glass candle that lay unlit.
In the center of the room, on a pedestal, sat a tome bound in what I half expected was human skin.
"That's probably restricted knowledge," Marwyn said, following my gaze. "Best left alone for now. What we need are the linguistic texts."
He moved through the library with the joy and confidence of a man who had spent his entire life surrounded by books. Within minutes, he'd pulled several volumes from the shelves and stacked them on one of the tables.
"Start with these. Basic grammar, common phrases, then we'll move to more complex structures." He opened the first book. "High Valyrian is a structured language, logical in its construction, but you learned how to speak in just a week, and that was distracted. I expect that should help even further shorten the learning curve."
And it did.
We spent the rest of that day in the library. Marwyn taught, and I learned. By the time night fell, or what passed for night in this ash-choked land, I could read simple sentences with minimal difficulty.
The next day, we continued. Marwyn brought more texts, and this new set had more complex works. Historical records, technical manuals, agricultural farming techniques, and journals of past Patriarchs of House Thalraxes. Each one added to my understanding, expanding my vocabulary and deepening my grasp of the language's nuances.
Gerion and Isaac came and went, sharing what little food and water remained with Marwyn and checking on our progress. Gerion looked worse each time I saw him, the thing beneath his skin growing more active. Marwyn applied the dreamwine once more, and I took the time to pull at the chaos in him, and that was enough to dampen the effects.
By the third day, I could read the family documents from the study with full comprehension. The history of House Thalraxes laid bare before me, their rise to power, their holdings, their dragons. The Patriarch had been a man named Aelor Thalraxes, a sorcerer of significant skill and ambition.
"These Valyrians. They are much like forgemasters."
"That's Isaac's discipline, yes? I agree with you, although the way Isaac explains it, his magic does most of the work."
"Yes. I suppose forgemasters have a better knowledge of the body than most, but it's nothing compared to the Valyrians and their mastery over blood and flesh. They were true masters of their craft."
Isaac and Hector would benefit the most from this knowledge as I lacked a human soul in the way that was needed to use forge magic. My thoughts ground to a halt, my crimson eyes widening. Dracula and vampires in general lacked a human soul, but what about me... I sequestered the thought at once before I could dive deep into an existential crisis.
I closed the journal and looked around the library. Three days we'd spent here, and it felt like barely any time had passed at all. With a better grasp of the language, I could have spent longer here, but I could sense the restlessness in my companions. Gerion especially, but it was not limited to just him. They all wanted to leave this place, and I couldn't blame them.
"We've learned enough," I said, standing from the table. "Gather what we can carry. Books, scrolls, artifacts, anything that looks important. We leave tomorrow at first light."
Marwyn looked like he wanted to argue, to spend more time cataloging and studying. I understood him perfectly, yet I gave him a look that told him this was not up for debate. I was certain that if I left him behind, he would be content to stay here and starve to death with a book in hand. He nodded. "As you say, Master Dracula."
I left him to his work and went to find Isaac. The eggs would need to be packed carefully, protected for the journey back. And I would need to make a decision about what to do with them once we returned to Westeros proper.
But that was a problem for later. For now, we had a library to pillage and a dragon-haunted sky to escape.
Simple enough, in theory.