"Let him in."
Aegon's quill traced a line of ink across the map, his voice flat.
The tent flap lifted, and Mallos walked in, his armor still on, his face carrying the fatigue of a sleepless night.
"Your Highness," he began, his voice raspy, "while taking inventory of Harry's effects, something was discovered."
Aegon's nib didn't stop. "Speak."
"Harry had prepared a special gift, intended to be presented to you after the banquet."
"Due to last night's events, the matter was shelved. This morning, the servant in charge of guarding it came to ask how to handle this object... this person."
He paused, lowering his voice. "Supposedly a young woman, but her hair and eye color are exceptionally pure, unlike the usual Valyrian descendants."
"Harry had strictly ordered secrecy and kept her settled separately. Your subordinate... did not dare act on his own authority."
Pure bloodline?
The pen in Aegon's hand stopped.
Harry Strickland, a Blackfyre remnant, had prepared to present a woman with pure Valyrian features at a banquet swearing fealty to Young Griff?
This was definitely more than just flattery; the Blackfyres themselves had Valyrian blood, so why go through the trouble of presenting another?
Unless... this bloodline was so special it could serve as some kind of 'compensation'.
"Where is she?"
"Just outside the tent, guarded by two Soldiers."
"Bring her in."
"Yes!" Mallos sighed in visible relief, turned, and quickly left the tent.
Aegon put down his pen and leaned back against the chair.
He intended to see what this was all about.
A moment later, Mallos re-entered, stepping aside to let in a slender figure wrapped in a dark gray coarse cloth cloak.
Two fully armed Bloodsworn guards followed closely behind, standing watch inside the tent entrance.
Mallos moved to the side, standing at attention with his hands down.
"Remove the hood," Aegon commanded.
The body under the cloak trembled.
A guard beside her stepped forward half a pace, repeating in a deep voice, "The Prince's command."
Slender fingers reached out from under the cloak, clutching the edge of the hood, knuckles turning white.
After a moment's hesitation, the hood was finally pulled back slowly.
Long silver-white hair flowed down like cold moonlight.
A young, pale face filled with alarm looked up, violet eyes like a startled deep pool meeting Aegon's calm, scrutinizing gaze.
Pure indeed.
Even more closely resembling Targaryen features than many nobles of Valyrian descent he had seen.
This purity... did not seem like an ordinary Valyrian descendant.
He shifted his gaze to Mallos.
"You were right to report this. Such unidentified personnel remaining in the army should be sorted out."
"I will handle this person. You are dismissed; continue with the reorganization, camp defenses must not be neglected."
"As you command, Your Highness!" Mallos struck his left breastplate heavily with his right fist, saluted crisply, and turned to leave.
Now only Aegon, the two guards, and the bewildered silver-haired girl remained in the tent.
Aegon did not speak immediately.
He picked up the quill again, tapping the map unconsciously with the nib, his gaze falling on the girl once more.
The silent scrutiny carried more pressure than any interrogation.
The girl's body began to shake, her violet eyes filling with tears that she struggled to keep from falling.
She opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but no sound came out.
"Name."
"Li... Lia." Her voice was weak and trembling.
"Why did Harry Strickland hide you?"
"I... I don't know..." The silver-haired girl shook her head in panic, tears sliding down. "He found me... said I was special... my bloodline was noble... that he wanted to present me... present me to the most noble person..." Her words were broken and disorganized.
"Noble bloodline?" Aegon pressed, his gaze sharp. "What bloodline? Be clear."
"I... I'm not sure..." Lia cringed, but under Aegon's piercing gaze, she continued haltingly, "When I was little... the person who raised me... would say things secretly when drunk... said I was the blood left by 'Daeron the Illuminator'... a true... Dragonseed..."
"Daeron the Illuminator"? Aegon's heart stirred slightly.
Daeron the Illuminator... Aerion?
That mad prince who drank wildfire had once been exiled to Lys; it wasn't impossible for his bloodline to be scattered in the East.
A descendant of Daeron the Illuminator... Aegon looked at the panicked girl before him.
Not a Blackfyre.
This realization caused a certain string in his mind to be lightly plucked.
Besides the legitimate Red Dragons and the rebellious Blackfyres, the Targaryens had other branches scattered abroad, and the bloodline could actually maintain such purity.
His thoughts couldn't help but drift.
He thought of those dragon eggs from the Valyrian Ruins in Lys.
Ghidorah was his, unique.
But what about more dragons?
Dragons needed riders, and riders had to be of Targaryen blood.
But now the dragon bloodline was thin, with only himself, Daenerys, and Viserys.
And now, the appearance of this silver-haired girl revealed a possibility:
The Targaryen bloodline might consist of more than just the few of them.
Those dragon bloodlines scattered in the East through various rebellions, exiles, and marriages—those branches long forgotten by history... If these scattered bloodlines could be gathered, screened, and controlled... Aegon tapped his finger lightly on the table.
As for... the Blackfyre Rebellion?
A trace of cold mockery flashed through his mind.
Daemon Blackfyre dared to rebel because neither side had dragons back then.
But now, Ghidorah was the one and only.
Any so-called "dragon blood" before him would either kneel in submission or be turned to ash.
The question was never whether they would rebel, but whether they were useful.
This Lia was the first sample.
To verify the purity of these scattered bloodlines, test their resonance with dragons, and assess their loyalty and value.
If used well... these exiled dragon bloodlines could become the cornerstone of a future Dragonrider Legion.
If used poorly, it was just a matter of a single bolt of Ghidorah's lightning.
Risk? In the face of absolute power, that was called "cost".
"Take her away."
Aegon instructed the guards, his voice returning to a businesslike calm.
"Arrange a separate tent within the camp and have someone watch her every step."
"Give her necessary food and clothing, but without my permission, no one is to have contact with her, and she is not to leave even for a step."
"Yes, Your Highness!" the two guards replied in unison, stepping forward to signal her to follow.
The silver-haired girl looked up in surprise, seemingly not expecting such a disposition.
She looked at Aegon's expressionless face, bit her lip, and finally lowered her head, silently following the guards out.
Silence returned to the tent.
The candlelight cast Aegon's shadow onto the tent wall, swaying slightly.
Daeron the Illuminator.
An almost forgotten name, a nearly extinguished bastard bloodline.
But since a descendant of "Daeron the Illuminator" could be found, what about other scattered bloodlines? Did those dragon bloodlines lost in exile still exist sporadically in certain corners of the world?
The thought itself contained a certain possibility.
The appearance of the silver-haired girl was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool; though small, it rippled out in unexpected circles.
Of course, all of this was still just a blurry outline.
Whether the dragon eggs could hatch was unknown, and suitable riders were even more remote.
Lia was the first sample, requiring observation, testing, and time to verify.
No rush.
Aegon collected his thoughts and pulled his gaze back to the parchment map before him.
That silver-haired girl was under his control and could be observed slowly.
There was enough time to plan for those dragon eggs and far-off goals.
For now, integrating the Golden Company, opening up sea transport, and dealing with the probing of surrounding city-states... these were the pressing matters at hand.
He picked up the quill again and drew a circle at the location of the Myr.
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