Eamon finished reading it, his chest tight with anger.
"Damn it, they've only been behaving for a few years!"
The so-called Three Sisters pirate group actually forced Gulltown to close its port.
And they're holding up his construction materials for next month.
Are they all useless!
Steve said, "Your Grace, Ser Lyon is arguing with Count Grafton, trying to get our construction materials unloaded first."
"Why is Gulltown blocking our goods?"
Jansif furrowed her brow, keenly sensing something was wrong.
Eamon squeezed the letter, unable to help but sneer, "Money moves people's hearts; someone wants to make a profit and skim some cream."
The construction materials for Riverrun were easy; once a month wasn't conspicuous.
But the materials for building two city walls were different.
A steady stream of long, blue bricks was being transported to the Riverlands.
Not to mention the food for the five thousand laborers, which was being shipped ashore boat after boat.
It's not surprising that someone would be jealous.
"Your Grace, should we inform Lady Rhea to negotiate?"
Jansif was clear-headed, first thinking of having an elder step in to resolve it.
"That's useless."
Eamon's eyes were cold as he said, "Rather than waste time, I'd prefer to negotiate in my own way."
With that, he walked straight towards the Lonely Hills.
...
Lonely Hills, halfway up the mountain.
Eamon gripped the rock face, climbing higher little by little.
He looked down at the steep, uneven mountainside below, carved with mines of all sizes.
The Lonely Hills were indeed high mountains.
The blacksmith's guild mined natural copper ore here, and he personally named it.
Meaning isolated from the world, towering at the summit.
Calling a tall mountain inhabited by a dragon by this name was excellent.
Plop!
Eamon twisted to the side and rolled into the dragon's lair, filled with a faint smell of sulfur.
No choice.
Vermithrax had been sleeping soundly for three months straight.
Silverwing was a homebody dragon, and no one could command it.
Grey Ghost was simple-minded; even with a Targaryen on its back, it wouldn't let anyone ride it.
He could only climb the mountain by hand.
"Roar..."
Getting up from the ground, he heard a series of heavy, powerful breaths.
Eamon's eyes were firm as he strode towards the depths of the dragon's lair.
Gulltown blocking his cargo ships was the first time the Vale nobles had challenged him.
He was very angry now, and he should be angry.
As anger filled his heart, the string in his mind gently plucked.
It was time for the slumbering dragon to awaken from its sleep.
Eamon's footsteps were heavy as he skirted around the piles of black dragon dung produced by Silverwing.
He didn't touch them, in case there were dragon eggs hidden inside.
Silverwing was gentle in nature, and after its mate fell asleep, it dug another cave deeper in the dragon's lair, accustomed to guarding its mate from the front.
A wisp of breeze blew past.
Jingle ~ ~
The only area in the dragon's lair with sunlight shining through emitted a clear and melodious bell sound.
Eamon looked up.
On a bronze tree branch, a small bronze bell swayed in the wind.
"It can make a sound now?"
Eamon was puzzled.
He remembered that half a month ago, this bronze bell was lifeless, and there was no sound when it swayed.
He didn't know what great power the Bronze Wood had.
But he could feel that this bronze life, praised as a "sacred object", was constantly accumulating power.
And this power was closely related to River Valley Town.
Eamon paused slightly and continued walking deeper into the dragon's lair.
The most urgent task was to retrieve his goods.
And to make the guys who dared to reach out their claws pay the price in blood and fire.
"Roar..."
In the darkness, the breathing became heavier.
Eamon stopped and stared straight ahead.
His vision was obstructed, and he couldn't see clearly.
He vaguely saw the outline of a bronze dragon, and a scorching breath swept over him.
"Three Sisters, Gulltown..."
Eamon muttered once, then closed his eyes.
Anger surged into his heart, and he gently raised a palm.
Suddenly, the heavy breathing stopped.
The huge, mountain-like body swayed slightly, shaking off a layer of rock fragments, and the thorn-like crown of horns shattered the stalactites in the cave.
The entire dragon's lair was trembling slightly, as if the anger had accumulated to the point of igniting a volcanic eruption.
Whoosh!
A pair of bronze-bright vertical pupils suddenly opened, as if endless bronze water was surging, containing the cruelty of burning everything.
"Long time no see, Vermithrax!"
Eamon's eyes were bright and spirited as he greeted it immediately.
Vermithrax glanced with its vertical pupils, its jagged fangs exposed, and the scales on its lower jaw plowed a scratch on the ground.
Immediately, the scarred, ferocious dragon maw pressed against the raised palm of its rider.
It was awake.
"Looks like you had a good sleep."
Eamon didn't forget to tease, a hint of a smile on his lips.
...
A moment later.
"Hiss—"
A roar as loud as thunder erupted, its deep sound waves spreading for dozens of miles, alarming countless living beings and plants.
Centered on the Lonely Hills, the continuous clouds and mist were shaken clear.
As if announcing to the sky and the earth, the "Bronze Fury" had awakened at this moment.
Boom!
Vermithrax spread a pair of wide wings, the brown wing membranes covering the sky and the earth, shrouding the majestic town at the foot of the Lonely Hills.
The next second.
Its hind feet released the rocks at the edge of the dragon's lair, and the entire dragon fell freely like a shooting star, then spread its wings and charged upwards with its head held high.
In an instant, the sky above River Valley Town darkened.
The working crowd looked up, only able to see a majestic chest like a bronze city wall, and in the blink of an eye, only a thick, long dragon tail remained.
"Dragonflame!!"
Eamon lay on the dragon's back, loudly giving the order.
"Hiss—"
Vermithrax roared with its head held high, and flames emerged from the depths of its throat, the bronze-bright dragonflame pouring down like an exploding furnace.
Under the light of the flames, its figure became more and more majestic.
"Hahaha."
Eamon felt the long-lost heat, understanding the changes in the dragon beneath him.
Just looking at the majestic and domineering huge dragon head, it was more than a circle larger than before it fell asleep.
As for the total length from head to tail, it was even bigger without end.
Roughly observed, it was at least over one hundred meters.
A dragon's lifespan is hundreds of years, and one hundred years old and a body size of one hundred meters are both crucial constraints.
Vhagar was over one hundred and sixty years old, but its body size was only over one hundred and thirty meters.
Meanwhile, Vermithor, now in his early eighties, has already surpassed the hundred-meter mark in size.
It is foreseeable that he will be a terrifying dragon surpassing "Black Dread" Balerion.
"You're hardly acting like an old dragon anymore."
Aemon smiled warmly, stroking the bronze scales, which were a whole level thicker.
"Roar!"
Vermithor let out a low roar, full of pride.
As his size increased, all his physical attributes improved.
Read the error-free version at ! 6 = 9 + Book _ Bar premiers this novel.
The bronze scales became increasingly thick, the original roughness disappearing completely, replaced by a sharp, metallic luster.
This was a subtle change after the sublimation of life.
The most direct feeling was in the appearance.
Around a hundred years old, dragons grow larger and larger, and their bodies gradually show signs of aging.
For example, loose skin and drooping jaws.
Vermithor has a high talent and is much larger than the second-generation dragons.
When Aemon tamed him, his jaw was slightly drooping.
Now, his jaw is tight and close-fitting, and his thick, long neck is supple and flexible, like a young dragon in his twenties.
"Hiss—"
Vermithor shook his wings, his massive body soaring into the sky, spinning in mid-air to perform a difficult maneuver.
This was a flying posture he could only do in his prime.
"Fly, Vermithor!"
Aemon opened his arms, feeling the gale buffeting his face.
The speed was constantly increasing, gradually breaking through the wind resistance and creating a sonic boom.
The saying that dragons get slower as they get older is wrong.
The larger a dragon is, the faster it flies.
What really slows them down is the loss of flexibility after becoming too large.
Vermithor regained his vitality, his speed and flexibility soared simultaneously, unable to restrain himself from baring his fangs.
In an instant.
Man and dragon flew out of the Riverlands, soaring eastward all the way.
… …
Crab Bay.
East of the Narrow Sea, across the sea from Claw Isle.
"Hiss—"
A bronze dragon sped past, its broad wings slicing through the thick clouds.
Aemon lowered his body, looking down at the endless sea below.
Speaking of which, the Freehold of Valyria in ancient Valyrian times was composed of forty dragonlord families, landowning nobles, and numerous maritime families working together.
The dragonlord families occupied the main position, while the other two provided supplies and pioneered shipping lanes.
The conquest of the western continent of Essos was based on numerous maritime families blockading shipping lanes and breaking through one free trade city-state after another.
To this day, only the Targaryen family of the dragonlord families survives.
Of the many maritime families, only the Velaryon and Celtigar families remain.
"If the Targaryens do not actively expand outwards, they will only decline and perish."
Aemon knew the course of history and was determined to conquer the Vale.
The dragonlord families of ancient Valyria had already verified one truth.
Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
"Roar!"
Vermithor's vertical pupils sharpened, his wings flapped to reduce altitude, and he craned his neck to stare at a patch of impenetrable mist.
"Something there?"
Aemon understood the meaning.
Boom!
The layers of mist suddenly parted, and a behemoth rushed out, letting out a muffled, thunderous roar.
"Hiss roar—"
Vhagar's vertical pupils were indifferent, his huge body broke through the clouds, and soared over the bronze dragon's head.
Vermithor was instantly enraged, bronze dragon flames accumulating in his throat.
"No! Vermithor!"
Aemon pulled on the saddle, controlling the bronze dragon to turn around.
At the same time.
A familiar magnetic voice sounded, calling out to the dragon beneath her.
"Stop, Vhagar!"
Very urgent, for fear of a bloody dragon fight.
Aemon turned his head.
He saw Vhagar's figure swooping down, Rhaenaera patting the old dragon's back.
"What's going on, the Battle of Crab Bay?"
Aemon's face darkened, unable to resist complaining.
It was one thing for Vhagar to show off his power to a small dragon, but a five-times difference in size would result in dismemberment in one bite.
Did Vermithor dare to measure his strength against it?
"Roar!"
Vermithor restlessly shook his dragon head, dragon flames spilling from his dragon kiss, trying to restrain his anger.
Aemon softly comforted: "Quiet, Vermithor. Don't be disturbed by the outside world."
Old dragons have bad tempers.
But if you can control your temper, man and dragon can become one.
Exerting a power greater than one plus one equals two.
"Hiss roar—"
When Vhagar approached the sea, his huge body turned sharply upwards, and his thick dragon tail stirred up huge waves.
Between spreading its wings and rushing upwards, it re-climbed the high altitude.
Rhaenaera saw Aemon comforting Vermithor, and quickly called out: "Sorry, Vhagar is used to being domineering."
"I'll wait for you in Gulltown."
After speaking, she waved her whip and lashed the old dragon on the back.
Vhagar's vertical pupils were still indifferent, feeling the familiar frequency coming from his spine, and changed direction to soar towards the land.
"This old dragon's temper is really suffering for the rider."
Aemon couldn't help but mock.
Vhagar and Vermithor are different again.
It was the first generation dragon hatched on Dragonstone, living in a masterless state for decades.
It wasn't until Aegon the Conqueror tamed "Black Dread" Balerion that his sister Queen Visenya tamed the masterless Vhagar.
Over the years, Vhagar has gone through three masters.
Self-awareness is very strong, and it will take autonomous action at critical moments.
Rhaenaera has a little control over it.
"You can't imitate it."
Aemon looked at Vermithor, raised his hand and pointed.
"Roar!"
Vermithor listened impatiently and chased after the old dragon.
Aemon touched his chin and noticed that the dragon under his crotch had improved his temper.
The blood source fruit was not fed in vain.