As she gazed at the bright red fireball before her, now reduced to the size of a cantaloupe, Dany's expression flickered between uncertainty and deep thought. It had been burning for a full three hours since nightfall, shrinking from the size of a washbasin to its current state. Perhaps it could last another three hours.
"I think I'm beginning to understand Valyria's civilization of dragons and magic," she murmured.
They were gathered in a small camp hidden behind the dunes. Three figures sat around the steadily burning fireball, watching it radiate heat and light with each passing moment.
They watched in silence, their gazes distant, as if witnessing a miracle unfold before them.
"Could every Valyrian do this?" Ser Jeno Dayne asked curiously.
"Perhaps only the High Priests could," Dany replied, recalling one of the prerequisites for becoming a High Priest—a dragon dreamer born into the families of the Fourteen Flames.
She had already attempted it herself. As expected, while she could control ordinary flames fueled by wood, her movements were clumsy, and she couldn't sustain them for long.
The fireball she had conjured had been about the size of a fist, appearing deflated and unstable, and had only lasted five seconds.
But controlling dragonflame through fire magic was entirely different. Through the bond of their souls, dragon dreamers seemed to be able to borrow some of a dragon's power.
There was no doubt—dragons did not produce fire by having a barrel of oil in their bellies. Instead, much like the tailed beasts in Naruto, they combined their spiritual energy with the fire magic elements of nature to create magical flames.
—Dany had personally verified this by prying open Blackfyre's jaws and inspecting them closely. There were no oil ducts or hidden reservoirs.
In other words, dragons converted magic into dragonflame, and since dragonflame itself contained magical properties, dragons could control it at will.
And dragon dreamers, through their soul connection with dragons, could gain control over this magic as well.
Just as Dany was effortlessly manipulating the dragonflame fireball, controlling the flames of burning wood was far more challenging. Natural fire, fueled by ordinary wood, was a manifestation of "nature's will." To reshape and control it flexibly, one had to contend with that very will—making it more difficult to manipulate than the more potent dragonflame.
Of course, for ordinary fire mages, "nature's will" was much easier to deal with than the "will of dragons."
Only in the hands of a Great Dragon High Priest could fire control magic be truly unleashed to its full potential.
"Just as I use a dragon's magic for lighting, warmth, and roasting meat, the Valyrians must have taken it a step further, inventing sorcery to extract magical power from magma itself. It's truly incredible," Dany muttered.
Ser Barristan, worried that his queen was becoming too fascinated with sorcery, couldn't help but caution her, "Your Grace, no matter how glorious Valyria once was, it has been destroyed. That proves their path was flawed."
"Heh, I'm merely lamenting their fate," Dany smiled wryly, understanding his concern. She sighed and said, "This world has been too peaceful—developing steadily for millions of years without encountering an extraterrestrial civilization."
"Extraterrestrial civilization?" Darkstar asked, intrigued.
Dany thought for a moment before explaining, "Before the age of great seafaring vessels, Westeros and Essos had no contact for a million years, existing as if they were two separate worlds.
To the Children of the Forest, Westeros was their entire world. They lived contentedly, believing their tranquil existence was as eternal as the rising and setting of the sun.
Then, the First Men arrived with their bronze weapons. In less than ten thousand years, the Children of the Forest—who had lived for millions—were nearly wiped out.
Now, imagine that beyond our known world, another civilization exists, one as advanced as ancient Valyria's magic empire. What would become of us?"
The two knights, whose greatest aspirations had been to become legendary warriors, were struck silent. The idea of a clash between civilizations was as distant to them as a war spanning an entire galaxy.
"That's impossible, isn't it? How could there be another world beyond this one?" Darkstar muttered, conflicted.
He was young, his mind still flexible enough to entertain new ideas. Though he denied the possibility, a sense of unease settled in his heart—what if the Dragon Queen was right?
"The Children of the Forest may have thought the same. Then they faced destruction," Dany said calmly.
Ser Barristan frowned. "Your Grace, aren't you overthinking this? We are not maesters; there's no need to—"
"Maesters?" Dany scoffed bitterly. "I don't know what the maesters have been doing all these centuries, but after thousands of years, they've neither developed a true magical civilization nor made significant progress in science.
Tell me, Ser Barristan—how long did it take Valyria to rise from humble shepherds to world rulers?"
"Less than a thousand years."
Having followed Dany in her search for Valyrian knowledge, the old knight had read enough to understand the broad strokes of history.
"A thousand years. From a nomadic people who couldn't even forge iron, they developed into a supercivilization capable of drawing power from the earth's fire. That is the trajectory of real progress."
On Earth, from the Renaissance in the 14th century to the 20th century, humans had already harnessed nuclear energy—a technological advancement that paralleled Valyria's rapid rise.
And the maesters?
The maesters weren't even as innovative as the necromancers of Yi Ti's Order of the Undying. At least those necromancers had their own research path, slow as it was, but still progressing. They had even managed to replicate the enchanted lenses of sorcery.
That was why Dany was eager to study the Citadel—to see what the maesters were really up to.
"Your Grace, you are truly remarkable," Darkstar said, his expression complex as he gazed at Dany.
"Oh?"
"Ninety percent of kings concern themselves with hunting, feasting, and masquerade balls. Even the wisest rulers only think about governance and securing their rule. But no one has ever looked at the world from a broader perspective—at the fate of all of humanity."
Jeno Dayne's deep violet eyes gleamed with sincerity. "Speaking with Your Grace is like being reborn. But tell me, do you have a solution? I mean, to prevent an invasion by this 'extraterrestrial civilization'?"
"Heh, there is only one way—to strive to elevate our civilization's level," Dany said with exuberance, her voice firm and powerful. "I'm still young, and I have plenty of time. In five years, I will sweep away all slave city-states across the world, then reclaim the Iron Throne within two years. After that, I will spend three years establishing a complete and perfected new social system.
Ten years from now, I will lay out two development paths for this world: technology and magic.
As for the future, you can think of it this way—every city will be like the capital of Valyria, without slavery."
At the end, she added a line that was cliché in certain web novels: "It will be an era where everyone is like a dragon."
Though overused, hearing such words for the first time left the two "natives"... well, not excited—they couldn't possibly be, as they didn't understand a word of it.
The future was still far away. In the early morning, after sending Darkstar off with a "Coordinate Spell," the three of them parted ways.
Dany and Barristan continued westward on dragonback, while Jeno Dayne went to find a ship to Braavos.
That afternoon, as they passed Starfall, Dany deliberately had her dragon circle above the city for a while—she wanted to pay homage to the "remains" of Dawn's legendary radiance.
But all she saw was an ordinary riverside mountain city. Aside from the tower being somewhat tall, there was nothing special about it.
It was the White Knight, however, who nearly shed tears upon seeing the white stone Sword Tower by the cliffside.
"Your Grace, I must confess to you, the person I loved most in my life was Lady Ashara Dayne," the old knight said with a complicated expression. "But I was a Kingsguard, sworn never to marry. To express my love to her would have been meaningless."
So, you loved her so deeply, yet she never even knew until her death? A one-sided love, then?
"Why did she throw herself into the river?" Dany asked curiously.
Ashara Dayne—aside from being Arthur Dayne's sister, Dany knew very little about her.
She had only heard rumors that Eddard had been involved with her and that they had a child named Jon Snow.
What nonsense!
The old knight murmured, "Ashara lost her child. Perhaps the grief of losing her baby broke her, or perhaps it was because of the man who disgraced her name at Harrenhal."
"Eddard Stark?"
"Mm."
"Some say his bastard son is Ashara's child."
"No, she lost the baby. If the child had survived, she wouldn't have taken her own life," the old knight said with certainty.
"How can you be sure that the child's father was Eddard Stark? I've never met him, but Ser Jorah always speaks of him with both admiration and resentment—admiration for his integrity, resentment for his lack of sentiment.
A noblewoman becoming pregnant out of wedlock… I doubt he would do such a thing," Dany said with curiosity.
"I saw it with my own eyes at Harrenhal—they fell in love. That kind of thing… I wouldn't mistake it," he said.
At that point, Dany didn't press further. They crossed the Torrentine River, leaving Dorne and entering the Reach. Oldtown was now just over 500 kilometers away.
By evening, they landed along the upper reaches of the Honeywine River. Walking to Rose Road, they bought two horses from a small inn and rode leisurely south toward Oldtown.
One thing was clear—Westeros' infrastructure was terribly underdeveloped.
The Seven Kingdoms had official highways, including the Rose Road through the Reach, the Boneway leading from the Stormlands to Dorne's border, the Gold Road to Lannisport, the River Road to the Riverlands, and the Kingsroad that connected to the North.
But these so-called "highways" were actually just muddy rural paths, the kind where every step left a footprint. The rustic simplicity reminded Dany of—wait, no, her hometown's main road to the market at least had gravel spread over it.
It was more like the dirt paths she used to walk on when picking cucumbers and tomatoes in the fields.
The Reach was still relatively peaceful. Under the orange-red sunset, farmers rushed to harvest golden wheat in the fields, and merchant caravans occasionally passed by, painting a lively pastoral scene.
A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of apples from nearby orchards. Letting go of the reins, they allowed their horses to move forward at their own pace.
"It seems Westeros isn't in as bad a state as we imagined," Dany said with a smile to the White Knight.
As they rode leisurely along, a group of horsemen clad in old, tattered brown leather armor suddenly galloped past from behind. They cracked their whips arrogantly, singing off-key songs as they rode south in high spirits.
The dirt road was instantly stirred into a yellow dust cloud, prompting Dany to lower the thin veil hanging from her hat.
But she also noticed the lyrics of their song, which roughly meant:
"Sharpening a sword for ten years, today I test its edge. Topple my rivals and seize the title of Knight King."
"Freelance knights," the White Knight said, watching the ragged-looking riders with some confusion. "They must be heading to a tournament, seeking glory and a name for themselves."
"Oldtown is hosting a tournament?" Dany realized.
"Most likely. I wonder which Hightower is organizing it," the old knight mused.
Dany chuckled. "That little Hightower ran off to Lys to seek his sister's help for a fleet, and yet they still have the leisure to hold a tournament?"
(End of Chapter)
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