A few days later.
**Riverlands, Harrenhal.**
After more than half a month away, the five towering structures remained charred black, with thick smoke still rising from the ruins of various buildings.
"Prince, are you sure this… will work?"
In front of the Kingspyre Tower, Leonor looked at the Unsullied laboring nearby, his expression hesitant.
At that moment, the Unsullied were moving chunks of rubble from the ruins and tossing them into a deep pit, about the height of a man.
Inside the pit, aside from broken stones and ashes salvaged from the wreckage, there was also a large, dark, sticky mound of… dragon dung.
Dragon dung was different from that of other creatures—it had little odor and a simple composition.
After all, dragons were magical beings, imbued with fire and elemental energy.
Once cattle and sheep entered their stomachs, they were completely dissolved by the dragon's digestive fluids.
What remained was a viscous black substance, somewhat resembling cool, non-burning lava.
Rhaegar crouched at the edge of the pit, rubbing his chin in thought before murmuring, "It should be fine."
As if remembering something, he waved at the Grey Worm standing guard nearby and hesitated before saying, "There's a bit too much dragon dung—have someone remove some of it."
"Yes, Prince," Grey Worm responded, his expression slightly odd. He then called over two Unsullied to scoop out some of the dragon dung.
Using a ladle nearly two meters long, they pulled up a heaping scoop of the dark sludge.
Rhaegar's eyes lit up. "That should do it."
According to the **Blood Sorcery of Dragonstone**, the correct composition required only a small amount of dragon dung, mixed with large quantities of stone and ash.
"Prince, I've never heard of using dragon dung to create blackstone," Leonor said, his tone filled with disbelief.
Rhaegar, serious and methodical, replied, "It's not just dragon dung—dragon scales, dragon blood, dragon bones, and even stones infused with a dragon's aura are all essential materials."
Dragonstone was a low-tier magical construct.
The smelting process required a trace of magic.
Dragons, being supreme magical creatures, naturally provided an abundance of magical residue, making even their waste valuable for smelting Dragonstone.
Dragon scales, dragon blood, and dragon bones were far too precious, making dragon dung the most practical alternative.
Not only was it abundant and easy to collect, but it was also efficient and cost-effective.
According to **Dragonstone Lore**, the Dragonlords of Old Valyria frequently used dragon dung in the construction of blackstone wonders.
Rest assured!
The structures were durable, resilient, and entirely odorless.
Now that the materials were prepared, it was time for the main event.
The Glutton circling overhead slowly descended, casting a disdainful glance at the pit below.
After all, that pile of dragon dung was its own.
Rhaegar stepped away from the pit, approaching the Glutton and issuing his command, "Alright, buddy—Dragonfire!"
"Hssss—Gaaah!"
The Glutton flared its nostrils before unleashing a torrent of dragonfire directly into the pit.
**Sizzle—**
Under the extreme heat of dragonfire, the stones within the pit began to melt, merging with the ashes and dragon dung.
Rhaegar placed both hands on the Glutton's scales, closed his eyes, and softly chanted an incantation.
"Jilaru Gulur…"
Soon, bubbling sounds echoed from within the pit, as if water was boiling.
The Glutton ceased its flames, and Rhaegar opened his eyes.
An Unsullied stepped forward to inspect the pit, staring in astonishment. "Prince, I think… it worked."
Hearing this, Rhaegar's face lit up, and he hurried over to check.
The original materials had completely disappeared, leaving behind a pool of bubbling black magma.
The temperature wasn't excessively high—comparable to boiling water.
He took a cautious sniff—there was no smell at all.
"Quick, bring the molds!"
Rhaegar shouted, instructing the men to bring several stone molds, each about a meter long and half a meter wide.
The Unsullied carefully scooped up the black magma with their large ladles, pouring it into the molds.
While doing so, Rhaegar noticed an interesting property of the substance.
It **solidified incredibly fast!**
As soon as it was ladled out, wisps of white smoke began to rise.
By the time it was poured into the molds, it had already begun hardening, taking on the shape of black Dragonstone blocks.
Grinning widely, Rhaegar knocked on the surface of a newly formed blackstone slab.
**Clang! Clang!**
It was **rock solid**—sturdy and dense.
Turning to Leonor, Rhaegar raised an eyebrow smugly, as if saying: *Well? What do you think?*
Leonor was left speechless, his face unusually solemn.
Even though magic played a role in the process, witnessing such a form of construction firsthand was **deeply shocking**.
With trembling hands, Leonor finally managed to speak, his voice filled with excitement: "This technique… truly lives up to the legacy of Valyria!"
It was unlike anything he had ever seen or heard before.
The current construction methods of Westeros still relied heavily on **stonemasons and bricklayers**.
Masons painstakingly chiseled large stones into shape, while bricklayers mixed ash and clay to create mortar.
The process was slow and **labor-intensive**.
A single mason could work an entire day and barely produce a few usable stone blocks.
But now, black Dragonstone could be made with **just stone, ash, and dragon dung**, smelted into shape **in mere moments**.
Even better, **it could be molded into any desired form**.
Rhaegar's eyes gleamed. "And that's not all."
To demonstrate, he instructed an Unsullied to scoop up another ladle of black magma and pour it onto an already solidified Dragonstone slab.
**Sizzle—**
The fresh magma fused seamlessly with the older slab, emitting a puff of hot white steam.
Once the smoke cleared, the newly added layer had **completely merged** with the existing stone.
This meant that black Dragonstone **did not need to be stacked** to construct buildings.
The **casting method** was far superior!
Leonor was utterly stunned, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor.
It took him a long moment to regain his composure.
Shaking his head with a chuckle, he murmured, "Prince, no wonder you were willing to trade the intact castle of Stone Hedge for Harrenhal."
Harrenhal had been reduced to ruins, no longer suitable for noble habitation.
A few days earlier, during a banquet, Leonor had agreed to the **territory exchange proposal**.
House Strong would relocate to the former lands of House Bracken, inheriting **Stone Hedge** along with most of its surrounding territory.
Meanwhile, Rhaegar had claimed **Harrenhal**, intending to **rebuild it with the power of Dragonstone.**
**Harrenhal and its territories were returned to the royal family and granted to Rhaegar as a lifelong fiefdom.**
Leonor was initially quite pleased.
After all, Harrenhal was little more than ruins.
Stone Hedge, while slightly inferior in location and smaller in size, was still an excellent choice overall.
Especially considering that its lands and populace were far wealthier than what House Strong originally possessed.
Of course, he was still satisfied now.
While there was a significant gap between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge, the symbolic importance of the two was vastly different.
Harrenhal was the very heart of Westeros.
It bore the crucial responsibility of overseeing the Riverlands and guarding against potential threats from the Vale and the North.
Every noble house ever granted Harrenhal had been unwaveringly loyal to the Targaryen dynasty.
Yet, none of them lasted long—each met a grim fate.
Being able to exchange his ancestral lands for Stone Hedge was a deal Leonor would take a hundred times over.
This move reduced House Strong's risk while allowing it to reintegrate into the Riverlands' noble power structure.
Understanding the pros and cons, Leonor straightened his posture and solemnly declared, "Your Highness, House Strong is in the process of taking over Stone Hedge. As for the stone needed to restore Harrenhal, Lord Tully and I will find a way to transport it."
Harrenhal's structures had crumbled into ruins, but its five main towers and outer walls remained intact.
To smelt black stone, a steady supply of materials was essential.
This burden fell upon House Tully and House Strong.
For House Strong, it was an obligation—having gained a valuable new domain, they naturally had to repay the crown.
House Tully, however, was doing it as compensation.
The Bracken and Blackwood families had waged a private war, and one even openly rebelled.
As Lord Paramount of the Trident and Duke of Riverrun, old Lord Tully had nearly been captured by his own vassals.
That his title remained intact was solely due to the loss of his heir.
Even if he had no merits, he had at least suffered for the realm.
Restoring Harrenhal required a massive amount of stone, and Lord Tully had no choice but to contribute.
He had to do it with everything he had!
---
Once the black stone smelting was handled, there was more important business to attend to.
Inside the Blackened King's Tower, Rhaegar took his seat in the lord's high chair.
Leonor entered alongside a few others.
Robb, Grey Worm, and the dismissed maester, Trystane.
"Robb." Rhaegar's voice rang out.
Robb dropped to one knee, reverently responding, "Your Highness."
Rhaegar exchanged a glance with Leonor before solemnly stating, "Robb, you performed well in both the Stepstones campaign and the suppression of the rebellion. I have petitioned my father to reward you."
Robb's head shot up, his eyes filled with excitement.
He had already caught wind of the rumors from Samwell, now Lord of Raventree Hall.
The prince seemed intent on granting him the title of a sworn knight.
Lifelong service to the prince meant the possibility of receiving lands and a castle.
Leonor cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.
He looked at Rhaegar, seeking confirmation.
Rhaegar nodded, signaling him to proceed.
With Robb eagerly awaiting his fate, Leonor kept a straight face and announced in a serious tone, "By royal decree, Robb Rivers is hereby granted the title of Baron of Stone Mill."
"Baron?!"
Robb thought he had misheard, his hands trembling.
"That's right. Baron of Stone Mill."
Rhaegar's eyes gleamed with amusement as he teased, "Don't worry. I'll cover the cost of building your castle from my private treasury. You won't have to live in a thatched hut."
Robb's eyes reddened, and tears streamed down his face.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Highness."
A baron was the lowest rank of nobility, but it was still nobility.
It was several steps above a sworn knight.
Robb knew of Stone Mill—it was a piece of land House Blackwood had ceded to the crown.
Situated on the north bank of the Red Fork, it was fertile, with land suitable for farming and fishing.
"Enough, a man crying isn't a pleasant sight."
Rhaegar waved a hand and instructed, "Now that you have a title, you can choose a new surname and design a family sigil. Leave behind your status as a bastard."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Robb forcibly held back his tears and nodded vigorously.
With the reward bestowed, Rhaegar signaled for him to step aside and compose himself.
Robb was an excellent subordinate—loyal, capable, and a natural leader.
Granting him a barony was a way to demonstrate the value of service.
It was a gesture to win the hearts of the lesser knights and second sons.
Besides, Stone Mill was more than it appeared to be.
It was strategically located between House Blackwood and House Strong.
Serving as a buffer, it would help prevent future conflicts between the two families.
And there was no fear of Robb turning against him.
His land had been carved out of House Blackwood's domain, and it was positioned right at a crossing point that House Strong used to traverse the river.
He would interact with both families—but never be too close to either.
Rhaegar spoke again, "Grey Worm."
*Clack!*
Grey Worm stepped forward, his spear striking the ground.
"Grey Worm, do you know how to train Unsullied?"
Rhaegar asked directly.
Grey Worm's face tensed, and he hesitated to speak.
Rhaegar smacked his forehead, sighing, "My mistake—I should have asked whether you can train soldiers in the Unsullied's physical conditioning and combat techniques. Without the removal of identity or castration."
Now that he had land, he needed a standing force.
And no soldiers were better than the Unsullied.
Grey Worm let out a relieved breath and replied firmly, "I can do it, but there's an age limit. Training is much harder for anyone over sixteen."
The Unsullied were conditioned from childhood, forging unbreakable discipline.
Grown men, with their minds already set and bodies fully developed, had far less potential.
Rhaegar readily agreed, "Go ahead without hesitation. I'll give you full support."
Among the freed slaves were many children and youths, and Flea Bottom was full of orphans and bastards.
There was no shortage of recruits.
**(End of Chapter)**