POV: Aemon Targaryen
Now that the area near Flea Bottom is secured, and I've managed to rent part of it on a fat 20-year lease, I can finally launch my company headquarters and expo centre. All the products made in the factory—which has basically turned into a small town near Duskendale—will be sold here. I named that town Forgehold.
The products we're making there now include pens, paper, handpumps, and newly added items like soap, dyes, and fertilizers. Those last three haven't been made public yet. I'll launch them officially once the headquarters opens.
But the one I'm most excited about is cement and concrete. I mean, I was an architect in my past life, for gods' sake. Designing buildings from scratch is something I actually miss. Now I get to do it again, with medieval tech. I'm planning to design the HQ and expo centre myself—something sleek, symmetrical, maybe inspired a bit by Gothic cathedrals but more functional. Arched entrances, vaulted interiors, a grand dome hall with stalls and shelves, a small open courtyard with water fountains from handpumps. Something people in Westeros have never seen.
I want it to be more than a place to sell stuff. It'll be a statement. AemTech Ventures—our own future. One wing will be offices for clerks and trade reps. Another for an expo hall, showing every product we make. The top floor—my workspace, personal lab, and meeting chamber.
Cement will be the backbone of it all. I've been working on the formula myself. The testing has gone well, but sourcing limestone, clay, and aggregates in bulk is a pain. Still, progress is progress.
But money… money's a real problem. With all these plans in motion, the 30,000 gold I set aside will be gone faster than I thought. I underestimated the setup costs, salaries, and how much time and product we'd lose just training workers. The burn rate is brutal.
So now, I'm thinking about checking out the treasure spots marked on the maps the Faceless Man gave me. And that's exactly what I started doing—until Rhaenyra caught me.
POV: Rhaenyra Targaryen
My stinky brother is always busy with his work and never has time to play with me. He's always flying off somewhere on his dragon for "business," leaving me behind.
But I've had enough. After a lot of begging, mother and father finally let me ride Syrax for the first time.
Flying... it was the best thing ever. At first, I was terrified. Syrax is big, warm, and loud, and when she took off, my stomach felt like it got left behind on the ground. But then we were in the air, and the wind hit my face, and the Red Keep looked like a toy castle beneath us. I screamed—not in fear, but because it was so fun I couldn't hold it in. Syrax roared back like she understood.
Now he can't run away from me—I'll follow him everywhere. Lately, he's been acting really secretive, and I plan to find out why.
One day, he was working in his study, hunched over his workbench. I crept up behind him, planning to scare him. But just as I was about to jump, he started talking to himself—at least, that's what I thought. His voice was low, sad, almost guilty.
"All this work is drowning me. Because of me, Zalrazar hasn't been fed properly, and now he's gotten sick. What should I do? The only way to heal him is to feed him another dragon… but how do I do that? Zalrazar is one of the smallest dragons—I can't attack a bigger one. Who should I feed him?"
My heart started beating fast. I was already dreading what he'd say next.
"Ah… there's a smaller, fatter dragon. Syrax. I should feed Syrax to Zalrazar. Don't you think so, Rhaenyra?" he said, suddenly turning to face me.
I screamed, "NO! You can't feed Syrax! She's my dragon! I'll tell father and uncle!" I ran at him, trying to hit him.
"No can do, Rhaenyra. Syrax has to die! Ha ha ha!" he said, pinning me down and starting to tickle me.
"NOOO!! HA HA HA HE HE HE!!" I couldn't stop laughing.
Finally, he let me go. I glared at him, but he just patted my head and said, "I was joking, Rhaenyra. I'd never hurt sweet little Syrax. I was just messing with you."
"Alright then—you have to make it up to me. You made me angry and harassed me! Or else I'm telling father and—"
That's when I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of his tunic. It must've come loose when we were fighting. I grabbed it before he could stop me.
"What's this?" I asked, holding it out of his reach. He didn't try to snatch it back roughly, which made me smirk.
"If you move, I'll tear it," I warned. That made him freeze.
I slowly opened the paper. It looked like a map… with a red marking. Just like those treasure maps from stories.
I looked at him suspiciously. "Explain. Is this a treasure map? If I don't get an answer I like, I'm tearing this. Consider it punishment for your transgression," I said in my most regal voice.
He finally sighed and said, "Yes, it's a treasure map. I found it in Dragonstone. But don't tell anyone—if others find out, they'll take it from you. You remember what I always told you about the Small Council, right?"
"Fine, I won't tell anyone. But you have to take me on the treasure hunt," I said, with no room for argument.
"No. It's dangerous. I'll be flying there on Zalrazar. You and Syrax are still too young for such a long trip."
"No! I don't care! When you were four name days old, you flew to Oldtown on Zalrazar. Why can't Syrax do the same? You always leave me behind and ignore me. I'm coming with you!" I said, tears forming in my eyes.
"…Alright," he said at last, sounding completely defeated.
That's how I went on my first adventure with my brother.