When Clay's guards sensed something was wrong and rushed into the Sacred Tree Forest, they found their young master wearily leaning against the trunk of the Heart Tree, fast asleep.
There was nothing around, only an empty wooden box beside a puddle; the guards had found nothing.
The crisp sound of the guards' steel boots crushing the withered leaves of the Heart Tree roused Clay from his deep sleep, but he didn't want to get up.
He was simply too exhausted. After enduring indescribable, intense pain, almost collapsing, Clay felt the burning blood finally, as the Three-Eyed Raven had said, settle at the location of his heart and stop moving.
Seeing that the promise had been fulfilled, and only Clay's own question remained, the Three-Eyed Raven's harsh cry, like the snapping of dead wood, echoed through the ancient Sacred Tree Forest. It flapped its wings and disappeared, and the figure of Hodor from Winterfell vanished behind the countless plants.
Overwhelmed by drowsiness, Clay placed the dragon egg into his Witcher system inventory before finally succumbing to sleepiness. He did so as to store herbs for medicinal decoctions, just as he would store herbs.
"Young Master, what's wrong?"
the guards asked anxiously, inwardly lamenting. This young master Clay was good in every way—kind, courageous, and kind—but his penchant for acting alone was a real headache for them.
They'd heard this wasn't the first time he'd done this. Captain Horstairs, who had accompanied him to Winterfell, had been reassigned to the blacksmith's shop for poor performance.
"Nothing..." Clay waved his hand, a fleeting moment of clarity giving way to a convenient excuse.
"I had a few drinks with Sir Bartimus, and his bottle was really strong. That's why I'm so sleepy."
The guard sniffed the air and indeed detected a faint scent of alcohol on his young master. It seemed the young master was telling the truth. The guards didn't need to verify with Sir Bartimus; as long as young master Clay was alright
, that was all that mattered. Whether it was true or not, they, as guards, didn't care. They never interfered in the affairs of nobles.
Two burly guards came and helped the feigningly drunk Clay onto his horse. The two guards flanked Clay on either side to prevent him from falling off.
Sitting swaying precariously on horseback, Clay sighed inwardly. It seemed this drunken act would have to continue for the rest of the journey. Thus, the swaying young master of White Harbor, drowsy and overwhelmed by boundless sleepiness, returned to Newcastle, surrounded by his guards. After
handing Clay over to Valfield, who had come to fetch him, the captain
of the guard breathed a sigh of relief. He thought for a moment, then turned and headed towards the Sea God Tower where Earl Wyman was staying. Earl Wyman, sitting by the fireplace listening to the captain's report, was only slightly surprised to hear that Clay was drunk. In his memory, his grandson was very much like him in his drinking habits, and he rarely saw him drunk.
But when Earl Wyman, who had been somewhat amused, heard that Sir Bartimus had been drinking with Clay, he paused, then seemed to realize something, and his expression immediately turned strange.
The old man had promised to drink that bottle of wine with him, how could he just drink it with his grandson like that? Was there no brotherly affection left?
Under the bewildered gazes of the guards, Earl Wyman's expression changed several times before he waved them away.
Just as he closed the door, he heard the sound of the Earl smashing things. The sound left him completely bewildered; what was the cause of this sudden outburst of anger?
...
When Clay woke up, it was already noon the next day. He only knew that he had entered the room by leaning on his sister Wilfred's shoulder, and when he woke up again, it was already this time. "If I trust that old bird Three-Eyed Raven again, I'll be..."
Never mind, stop cursing yourself. He was the one who let him get the dragon egg; ultimately, it's his fault.
Leaning against the headboard with its soft cushions, Clay felt a faint burning sensation in his heart. He knew the Dragon King's blood was residing within him, and he had to resolve this problem as soon as possible.
Checking his mana pool, he realized he'd used 40 points yesterday to alleviate the pain, leaving him with 80 points.
Circulating his mana, Clay sensed the changes in the Dragon King's blood within his heart.
His own blood, enveloped by the Witcher's magic, surged towards the clearly defined Dragon King's blood in his heart. The moment the two magical bloods met, a sharp, needle-like pain shot through Clay's chest.
Gasping for breath, Clay's pale face, contorted by the pain, gradually returned to normal.
Cursing under his breath, Clay once again experienced the changes in the Dragon King's blood. After this collision and fusion, Clay could feel a barely perceptible heat in the ball of his own magical blood.
There's hope!
Clay understood that as he continuously rammed his magical blood against the Dragon King's blood, completely integrating it into his own, a new Dragon King's blood would be born!
But… judging from the pain he'd just experienced, if he were to unleash all his magic power to touch the Dragon King's blood, he'd probably die young from cardiac arrest due to the excruciating pain.
Well, he'd have to take it slow. Clay was speechless. They say a short pain is better than a long one; it seemed he had to endure this prolonged suffering.
Ignoring the Dragon King's blood, whose effects would be revealed later, Clay pondered another problem:
he had the dragon egg, what should he do now?
Before, he'd only fantasized about what he would do if he really had a dragon, but now that possibility was truly before him, he had to consider it carefully.
Raising a direwolf and raising a dragon are two different things. The former is a symbol of family lineage, the rightful heir to the North; in his case, it's a
remnant of a previous dynasty, deserving of everyone's wrath… If he were from a nobody family, Clay would have simply taken his dragon
and fled without a second thought. But the problem is, he's the rightful heir to the Manderley family, a powerful and influential family throughout Westeros. This is a dilemma. Rationally, he can't abandon his current status and position for a dragon, and emotionally, he can't bring himself to betray Valfield, Vera, or his grandfather.
Regardless, Clay wants to have a backup plan, because across the Narrow Sea, a future queen of vengeance, with three dragons, will return to Westeros with a massive army.
If they meet on the battlefield, his dragons might prove surprisingly useful.
After all, by then, the only true Dragon Aspect left in the world will be Daenerys Targaryen, but who knows, there might also be Clay...
.....
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