That afternoon, Luke was in the study of Jaqenion Estate, reviewing the list of refugees and craftsn that Arthur had compiled. The response had been far more enthusiastic than expected!
Bronn entered to announce that a guest from across the Narrow Sea wished to see him.
The visitor was a man with skin as dark as charcoal, curly hair, and wearing an embroidered robe with a distinctly Pentoshi style. He introduced himself as Qyburn—wait, no, Quintus.
After entering the study, he bowed with a respectful yet dignified posture, right hand over his chest in the manner of rchants.
"Honorable Lord Luke Jaqenion, Baron, good day to you. I am Quintus, sent by my esteed master, the Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis. I co to convey his sincere greetings and his desire for cooperation, and to present you with a modest gift."
Quintus's Common Tongue carried a heavy Pentoshi accent, but his wording was elegant.
Luke's heart stirred.
Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos — a major player among the Free Cities. In the original story, he had sheltered and funded the "Beggar King" Viserys and his sister Daenerys, and it was he who had given them the three dragon eggs that changed history as a wedding gift.
Through the rchant caravans traveling to Pentos, Luke had deliberately — yet casually — let slip his interest in exotic curios such as "dragon egg fossils." He had baited the hook with the two insanely profitable goods: "Mithril Salt" and "Velvet Snow." It seed the fish had finally taken the bait.
"Welco, Master Quintus. Please, have a seat." Luke gestured for the servants to bring tea and refreshnts. "May I ask what instructions the Magister has for ?"
Quintus did not sit imdiately. Instead, he took out a thick letter written on heavy parchnt and sealed with a distinctive wax stamp, offering it with both hands.
"This is a personal letter from my master. Everything is explained within."
Luke accepted the letter.
The wax seal's pattern was familiar — it matched the crest commonly seen on Pentoshi gold coins, a standard anti-counterfeiting mark.
He broke the seal and read quickly.
The letter was written in the Common Tongue, the handwriting ornate and the tone courteous yet direct:
"To the honorable and far-sighted Lord Luke Jaqenion,
Congratulations on your elevation to the peerage.
Words cannot replace a eting, yet I write as if we stand face to face.
Your magically pure 'Mithril Salt' and the 'Velvet Snow' that tastes as sweet as first love have swept through Pentos and the entire Disputed Lands like the song of the most enchanting siren. Every rchant who has tasted their wonder finds his purse singing with joy. To the man who can provide such treasures, I, Illyrio Mopatis, offer my deepest respect and a wish to form a lasting friendship.
I have heard that you have a particular fondness for ancient and mysterious artifacts. As it happens, I possess three dragon egg fossils from the depths of the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. They are beautiful and ancient; though ti has passed, their luster remains undimd. They would make exquisite collector's pieces. If you are interested, I am willing to present these three fossils to you as a symbol of friendship, free of charge.
Of course, friendship must be nurtured by both sides. In exchange, I hope to obtain the exclusive agency rights for 'Mithril Salt' and 'Velvet Snow' throughout the city of Pentos and the trade alliance it leads.
That is to say, you will no longer supply these two goods directly to any other Pentoshi rchants or their primary trading partners. All goods destined for that region will be purchased and distributed solely by .
As for pricing, we can negotiate a wholesale price slightly lower than what you currently offer other Pentoshi rchants, provided my exclusive status is guaranteed.
I believe that a concentrated and powerful channel will bring both of us far greater long-term returns than scattered sales.
I look forward to your favorable reply.
May the winds of trade forever favor us.
Your sincere friend, Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos."
The content was exactly as expected.
Trading three "fossils" that the world saw as nothing more than beautiful stones for regional monopoly rights over two wildly profitable goods was, for the shrewd Illyrio, an excellent deal.
After all, no matter how lovely dragon eggs looked, if they could not hatch, they were rely ornants.
Or rather, no one in this world truly believed anyone could still hatch dragons anymore!
Dragons had been gone for over a century.
After all… the Targaryens had fallen…
Luke finished reading, set the letter down with a calm expression.
At that mont, Quintus signaled his attendant to bring forward an ornate chest inlaid with ivory and ebony that had been resting by his feet. He opened it on the desk.
Inside, laid on deep-red velvet padding, rested three large "pebbles."
Their surfaces were covered in dense, hard, scale-like patterns, each with distinct coloring:
One was a deep obsidian black with faint crimson undertones; another was a bronze-and-gold-flecked slate gray; the last was predominantly creamy white, dotted with erald and silver specks.
Even treated as fossils, they still radiated an ancient, mysterious, and majestic aura, as if they had frozen ti and legend itself.
Luke's heartbeat quickened uncontrollably.
He reached out, fingertips trembling slightly as he touched the obsidian-black egg.
It felt cool and hard — exactly like stone.
Yet the instant he made contact, perhaps because his Spirit had grown more sensitive after the attribute increase, or perhaps because the eggs truly contained unimaginable power, he instinctively sent a faint thread of spiritual power toward it.
He did not "see" any clear image, but a wondrous, indescribable "feeling" struck him instantly!
It was not the cold silence of a dead object, but an extrely faint, extrely slow… pulse of life, as if in the deepest, most profound slumber.
Like sensing a thread of nearly frozen warmth beneath thick ice; like detecting a wisp of dormant vitality at the core of primordial rock.
The pulse was so subtle that, without his elevated Spirit and deliberate probing, it would have been utterly undetectable.
Alive!
They were truly alive!
These were not fossils at all!
Inside the three dragon eggs burned a life-fire that had not yet been completely extinguished!
A massive wave of shock and ecstasy crashed over Luke's mind like a tsunami.
He fought to keep his facial muscles under control, refusing to let any excitent show, yet the sudden contraction of his pupils still betrayed the towering waves in his heart.
His fingers pressed harder against the egg; the tips even turned slightly white.
He quickly withdrew his spiritual power and forced himself to stay calm.
He could not lose composure! He could not let the other man notice anything unusual!
"Very… very exquisite collector's pieces," Luke said, keeping his voice as steady as possible and coloring it with appreciation rather than excitent. "The Magister's gift is truly extraordinary."
He looked up at Quintus, who had been carefully watching his reaction, and put on the standard smile of a rchant closing a deal. "Please inform the Magister that I accept his proposal. Starting from the next trade cycle, all 'Mithril Salt' and 'Velvet Snow' shipped toward Pentos will be supplied exclusively to his caravans at the price ntioned in the letter. I will not sell a single grain of salt or a single crystal of sugar directly to any other Pentoshi rchant."
Quintus's face lit up with relieved delight. "Wonderful! Baron Jaqenion is indeed straightforward! The Magister will be most pleased. Rest assured, within Pentos no other rchant will be able to obtain these goods directly from you. As for anyone trying to resell them from elsewhere… that will be our own small problem, and the Magister will handle it properly."
"Excellent," Luke nodded, adding, "As long as the Magister can ensure the Pentoshi market remains under his control, my supply here will be prioritized and fully sufficient."
They discussed a few more details — next sailing dates, handover thods, preferred paynt in gold coins or equivalent gemstones, and so on.
Having completed his mission, Quintus left satisfied.
After seeing off the Pentoshi envoy, Luke imdiately closed and locked the study door, then practically lunged toward the chest.
He carefully touched each of the three dragon eggs in turn, probing them with even more cautious and delicate spiritual power.
Yes — that extrely faint, seemingly on the verge of vanishing yet stubbornly persistent pulse of life existed inside all three eggs!
Only the depth of their slumber and their individual attributes seed slightly different.
After the initial surge of joy ca deeper contemplation and a trace of chill.
"In the original story, Daenerys hatched them by walking into the funeral pyre of Khal Drogo holding the eggs… that was a ritual of blood and fire, magic and sacrifice."
"I have the eggs now, but how do I hatch them? Bake them over a fire? Obviously not. It must require specific conditions — perhaps a strong environnt of fire magic, resonance with dragon blood, or so ancient spell or offering…"
Luke's brows furrowed tightly.
Hatching dragons was no easy task; otherwise the Targaryen family would not have been helpless as the dragons gradually died out.
"Still, even if I cannot hatch them right now, I absolutely cannot let them fall into anyone else's hands — especially… Daenerys Targaryen." Luke's eyes sharpened.
He knew the original plot. He knew the "Mother of Dragons" would one day possess three living dragons and beco a formidable contender for the Iron Throne.
Now the eggs were in his hands. History had already changed.
Daenerys had lost one of her most important assets for her rise.
But the world was unpredictable. Who could guarantee there would be no other opportunities?
The will of the heavens in this story-like world was impossible to predict!
"She must be listed as a potential threat… no, a clear enemy," Luke thought darkly.
The struggle for the Iron Throne was life-or-death; there was no room for sentint.
Since he had chosen this path, he would clear away every possible obstacle — whether the other party was the "protagonist" in the original story or soone worthy of sympathy.
Submit or die. The choice was theirs…
Suppressing the urge to study the eggs imdiately, he first locked the chest carefully inside the hidden safe in his bedroom.
Then he summoned the steward Arthur.
"Arthur, quietly spread word among the rchants who frequently travel to Essos — especially those heading to Qarth, Volantis, Myr, and similar places," Luke said in a lowered voice.
"Tell them that I, Luke Jaqenion, have a hobby of collecting all kinds of exotic antiques and biological fossils — particularly things like dragon eggs, ancient Valyrian talwork, magic-related items… and that I am willing to pay high prices or trade for goods they are interested in."
"The news must remain discreet. Spread it through reliable people in the form of casual chat or complaints about my 'unserious' interests."
He was casting a wider net on purpose.
Since the dragon eggs truly existed and were not completely lifeless, this world must still hide other items related to magic, dragons, and Valyrian heritage.
All of them could beco sources of his future power or keys to his research.
"Yes, my lord."
Although Arthur did not understand why his master had suddenly beco interested in these "useless" antiques, he obeyed loyally.
Late that night, alone in his bedroom, Luke sat facing the direction of the safe, his emotions still unable to settle completely.
His fingers unconsciously tapped the desktop.
Three potentially hatchable dragon eggs… perhaps a treasure even more astonishing than vast wealth or a noble title, and one that carried far greater responsibility and risk.
"Hatching… conditions… magic…" he murmured.
Perhaps it was ti to start with the remnants of magical knowledge in this world? Red priests? The Citadel's forbidden books? The Children of the Forest?
Or… beyond the Wall in the North?
A new path of exploration, accompanied by the faint life-pulse of the dragon eggs, faintly erged before him.
And far across the Narrow Sea, sowhere in the Dothraki Sea, a silver-haired, purple-eyed girl might still be dreaming different dreams of ho and dragons, unaware that the key to her original destiny had already quietly changed hands.
A silver-haired youth gently lifted the girl's chin, frowning. "Do you want to taste the wrath of the sleeping dragon?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers