Chapter 166: Slavers Under Dragonfire
The Silver Dragon soared high in the sky, its shadow a blur in the distance.
Below, the Rhoyne's Glory had a wide beam and a very shallow draft, allowing it to navigate any narrow stream or sandbar. When its sails were unfurled and the current was swift, it could travel at a considerable speed. It wasn't the most magnificent ship, but its craftsmanship and design were perfectly suited for the Rhoyne River. Here, on the Upper Rhoyne, speed meant safety.
High in the heavens, Rhaegar slowly toyed with his newly awakened rune. Warm golden flames formed interlocking rings, beautiful in their continuous connection.
Explorer: Congratulations on acquiring the "Ring" Rune left by the First Men. Wisdom is like a ring; ignite the fire of wisdom and illuminate the path of virtue!
Rhaegar felt a flame stirring within his body, but unlike before, it did not burn his flesh and blood—it burned his mind.
A normal person's brain is not fully developed, and the Ring Rune seemed to unlock clarity, enhancing intelligence. Rhaegar's natural talent was already extraordinary, and now, empowered by the Ring Rune, it was elevated even further.
He pondered the runes and kindling he controlled.
The sixth rune—the Ring Rune—was unique, representing the fire of wisdom. The brain was the most mysterious and fragile part of the human body.
The other runes each carried their own meanings:
The Wall Rune represented the isolation of magic
The Shield Rune represented protection
The Hammer Rune represented raw strength
The Sword Rune represented precision and affinity
The Tree Rune represented vitality and youth
The six runes gathered in his left palm, forming a magnificent crown.
A net-like gray stone texture, an obsidian hammer, a bright and sharp sword, flourishing green trees, a bronze shield—and now, a golden ring.
"Adding new fuel…"
Flames rose again in Rhaegar's right hand.
The kindling transformed into different forms:
The flowing blue waters of the Fountain of Youth
The majestic Golden Three-Headed Eagle
The freely swimming Great Black Fish
The radiant white-glass-like Dawn Blade
These were the four types of kindling he possessed:
The Fountain of Youth — health and immunity
The Golden Three-Headed Eagle — vigilance
The River God (Black Fish) — water affinity
The Dawn — spirituality and creativity
The four kinds of kindling and the six runes began to merge.
Slowly, they fused into a dazzling, ever-changing Crown of Fire—a living flame crown that constantly shifted in color and form.
Magic Achievement: Crown of Fire
Congratulations. "Kindling Devourer" and "Rune Combiner" have fused into a new achievement.
Rhaegar examined the result. The former abilities had disappeared, replaced by something greater.
The colorful flame crown gradually dissipated, its power returning to his body.
Rhaegar felt completely refreshed.
As a true Dragonlord, he would bring a new force into the world.
"Time to descend."
He summoned the Silver Dragon with a silent command. It swooped down from the sky, carrying him back to the Rhoyne's Glory, while the other dragons continued circling above.
When the weather was good, the ship sailed along the strongest current. At night, they anchored by the riverbank.
"Your Highness, would you like a drink?" Chester asked casually.
Fortunately, this was not King's Landing. Here, on the river, formality gave way to companionship.
"I'd be delighted," Rhaegar replied. "But if we drink, we drink well. Bring out the golden wine I brought."
Thus, the two drank together on deck.
Melia roasted a large golden fish, its rich aroma filling the air.
"Has the Rhoyne always been like this?" Rhaegar asked, watching the driftwood clogging the river.
"Always," Chester replied with a sigh. "When civilization collapsed, the Rhoyne became an orphan. No one maintains it anymore."
"And not just the river," he continued. "The Valyrian roads are the same. When everyone can interfere, no one takes responsibility."
He pointed toward the ruined structures along the banks—overgrown, abandoned, lifeless.
"Don't be fooled. These waters can hide pirates, escaped slaves… and slavers."
Night fell.
Chester remained on watch, uneasy despite the Unsullied's presence.
The dragons rested on a nearby hill.
Under lamplight, Rhaegar lifted Orphan-Maker, examining the blade.
A fine sword.
But still—where was Blackfyre?
Though the conditions aboard the ship were rough, Rhaegar adapted easily and slept soundly. One Unsullied always stood guard, while Chester kept irregular watch.
At dawn, a larger ship appeared.
It moved upstream, against the current, far bigger than the Rhoyne's Glory.
"What cargo do you carry?" came an arrogant voice.
Melia's face turned pale.
"Slave catchers…" she whispered, trembling as she fled inside.
"We carry honey, salted fish, and thread," Merses said nervously.
The other side burst into laughter.
A blonde, one-eyed, heavily built man stepped forward.
"We sell people," he said mockingly. "Though you two wouldn't fetch much."
"Dock immediately," he ordered. "We'll spare your lives—for now. But the ship is ours."
A black flag rose—marked with a blood-red human head.
Pirates.
Rhaegar, Chester, and the Unsullied stepped out.
The enemy ship was larger, but only the two leaders seemed dangerous.
"If you value your lives," Rhaegar said calmly, "leave."
The pirate grinned.
"What a beautiful face… worth a fortune in Lys."
His companion hesitated slightly.
"Those are Unsullied… he might be a Pentoshi noble…"
"This is the Rhoyne!" the one-eyed man scoffed. "Pentos has no power here!"
Rhaegar sighed.
"Why do fools always provoke me…"
"Take positions!" Chester ordered.
Hooks were thrown.
Crossbow bolts rained down.
The Unsullied ripped wooden panels free to use as shields.
Pirates leapt aboard.
Rhaegar drew Orphan-Maker.
A flash of black steel cut through the air.
Like a dragon in motion, his blade danced—swift, deadly, unstoppable.
Pirates fell like wheat before the scythe.
Blood spread across the river.
Chester stared in shock.
Such skill… was beyond human.
"You… you are the Dragonlord!" the one-eyed leader shouted in terror.
The Butcher of the Narrow Sea.
The Crownbreaker.
The Three-Headed Dragon.
Fear spread instantly.
Too late.
A thunderous roar shook the sky.
The dragons descended.
"Dragonfire."
Flames rained down—silver, purple, and black.
The pirate ship was engulfed.
Men screamed, fleeing, diving into the river.
Rhaegar saw the slaves bound on deck—thin, broken, barely alive.
He controlled the flames carefully, sparing them.
Then he leapt aboard the burning ship.
Two leaders remained.
"You devil!" one shouted, firing a crossbow.
Rhaegar deflected the bolts effortlessly.
Then—
A single strike.
The rusty-haired man was beheaded instantly.
"And you?" Rhaegar said coldly.
The one-eyed leader panicked, throwing axes wildly.
Useless.
Rhaegar stepped forward—
Then changed his approach.
He struck the man's spine with the hilt of his sword.
The pirate collapsed, screaming.
The slaves surged forward.
They dragged him down.
They bit, tore, and beat him.
Years of suffering unleashed in madness.
They tied him to a pole.
"You beat us—now we repay you!"
They struck him with whips, hammers, and axes.
Bone after bone shattered.
His screams faded… until silence.
Finally—
Dragonfire reduced him to ash.
Silence followed.
Then—
The slaves collapsed, weeping.
For lost families.
For stolen lives.
Rhaegar looked at them and spoke:
"You are free."
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