Daeron watched, stunned.
It can breathe fire already?
Even Drogon didn't breathe fire to protect his mother until he was in Qarth, which was at least a couple of weeks after he hatched.
How old was Caraxes?
Skree-ga!
Caraxes's deanor changed drastically. It tore into the fatty at of the roasted fish, eating wildly and aggressively.
Daeron was indescribably delighted. "Are you exceptionally gifted, or just born knowing how to breathe fire? Or maybe both?"
He felt it was the latter.
Those rare materials and the blood sacrifice weren't just for show.
Perhaps his three dragons had even higher potential than Drogon and his brothers.
"I really need to take good care of you. I can't let you grow up wild."
Daeron didn't play favorites. He took out two more sardines.
Skree-ga!
Skree-ga...
Tessarion and Toothless instantly perked up. Before the fish were even fully cooked, they pounced on them hungrily.
Toothless, wild and unruly, felt slighted by Caraxes earlier, so he sneakily stole so of Tessarion's food in retaliation.
Skree-ga!
Tessarion puffed up imdiately, baring its fangs to attack.
The two hatchlings, less than two days old, started scrapping, kicking up dust in front of the cabin.
"Good. Very spirited."
Daeron watched with relish.
Dragons should be like this.
The fiercer the dragon, the fiercer it would be in battle.
---
Evening.
Daeron was tidying up the farm and planning his next financial moves.
The lons he planted initially had ripened, yielding 48 fruits.
Gold Star x3, Silver Star x12, Regular x33.
With no one collecting eggs from the coop for a few days, he had also accumulated 24 Large Eggs.
Selling everything would bring in a substantial sum.
"Prince! Prince, I'm here!"
Count Owen arrived, panting heavily.
Daeron said, "My Lord, you're just in ti."
"It's wonderful to be of service to you," Count Owen said, sweet-talking as always, rubbing his hands together with a smile. "I heard you hatched three dragons. It's absolutely astonishing."
"I knew it. You truly possess the unique blood of the dragon."
As he spoke, his eyes darted around, searching for the hatchlings.
Those were dragons!
He hadn't seen them yet.
"You will have the chance to see real dragons."
Daeron was certain. No one remained unchanged after seeing a dragon.
Under Count Owen's curious gaze, Daeron returned to the cabin and brought out thirty-three regular lons.
"Prince, this is...?"
seeing so many special crops at once, Count Owen's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Even more amazingly, they were all of the sa variety.
"Is this the power of dragon blood?"
Count Owen brainwashed himself.
Daeron divided the lons into four portions. He pushed the smallest portion, containing three lons, toward the Count. "Eat these. This is your reward."
Then, he divided the remaining thirty lons into three equal portions of ten.
"The first portion: Take them back to the Reach and auction them fairly to the lords there."
This was to build montum and attract the attention of the Reach nobility.
"The second portion: Sell them individually to lords in the Reach and the Riverlands. You set the price."
The Riverlands was also a gathering place for royal loyalists.
Daeron said calmly, "The last portion: You will coordinate with the first Small Council mber who cos to find you. After recruiting Dragonkeepers from the Crownlands, use these to reward those loyal and reliable n."
"Small Council mber?"
Count Owen's brain hadn't caught up yet. He asked in confusion, "Which of the three ministers?"
Chelsted, Velaryon, Staunton...
All three were Crownlands nobles. Combined with the Prince's ntion of recruiting Dragonkeepers, the implication wasn't hard to grasp.
The prerequisite for a Dragonkeeper was dragon blood, followed by a clean background from the Crownlands.
Since dragonseeds were scarce, Crownlands nobles would be the main force.
Daeron said matter-of-factly, "Whoever cos first, gets the job."
With dragons, his status was completely different now.
He didn't need to seek them out; the ministers would co to him.
"I understand."
Count Owen stood in awe. But his back stayed straight for less than three seconds before he asked guilty, "But... isn't this too many special crops?"
Releasing thirty at once, distributed among the Crownlands, Riverlands, and Reach nobles...
House rryweather might not be thrilled.
Daeron pondered for a mont, then turned back to the cabin. "I'll give you two letters. One for Lord Leyton of the Hightower, and one for my uncle Tytos at Raventree Hall."
The connections he had built up were finally coming in handy.
Soon, Count Owen left with the letters in his pocket.
With the Prince backing him, he was much bolder.
The Prince had dragons!
Unless the lords of the Seven Kingdoms were stupid, they would have to give him so face before they figured out just how dangerous the dragons were.
"Reveal when necessary, hide when necessary."
Daeron watched Count Owen leave.
He decided that until the hatchlings passed their vulnerable infancy, he would not let them leave the farm.
Once they possessed deterrent power, he would awe the lords of the realm.
"Plenty of ti!"
There was about a year until the hurdle of the Tourney at Harrenhal.
His farming operation was taking shape.
The resources converted from it would be enough to recruit Dragonkeepers heavily and accelerate the hatchlings' growth.
Before Rhaegar had his breakdown, there was enough ti.
"You'd better not lose your mind!"
Daeron thought carefully. He didn't want to resort to drastic asures.
Peace was the primary production line for developnt.
---
After three quiet days.
Daeron received a summons and returned to King's Landing with Toothless.
Seeing the dragon that belonged to him, Aerys's eyes lit up with unbearable excitent.
"Toothless, eat!"
The King had sohow procured a goat and shoved it in front of the black hatchling, eagerly anticipating the scene of dragonfire incineration.
Toothless: Skree-ga?
The little guy looked at the goat, then at himself, his green vertical pupils revealing a very human-like skepticism.
I'm supposed to eat a whole goat?
Aerys wanted to step forward but didn't dare, so he just kept urging, "Co on, eat it."
Behind him, Varys looked constipated.
Out of professional ethics, he whispered, "Will His Grace be in danger?"
Maester Harvey, serving as Acting Grand Maester, wiped sweat from his forehead and said nervously, "Sh... should be fine."
According to the brief history of House Targaryen, dragons had a relatively long infancy. Usually, it took between one and two and a half months before they could use dragonfire proficiently.
This hatchling was less than a week old.
"Eat it!"
Aerys had zero patience and couldn't control his volu. "Eat! Dragons eat sheep!"
He rembered.
As long as he could command the newborn hatchling to breathe fire and complete its first feeding, he would have established a preliminary bond with the dragon.
Skree-ga!
Toothless's erald pupils contracted. Mimicking Caraxes, he lowered his spine and puffed out his chest.
Aerys's eyes lit up, and he pushed the goat closer.
The next second.
Skree-ga!!
Toothless's eyes flashed fiercely. He spewed a cloud of pungent black smoke, laced with sparks of ghostly green fire, straight into Aerys's face.
"Argh!" Aerys scread in pain, clutching his face.
Varys's face twitched. He turned left, then right, spinning in two circles before finally yelling, "Guards! His Grace has been injured by the hatchling!"
The Maesters rushed into action, taking out the prepared salves.
anwhile.
Daeron appeared at the Tower of the Hand.
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