The small silver-haired figure darted here and there, like a lively hamster foraging for food.
Runestone revered bronze ware, and the tombs held bronze armor left behind by generations of ancestors. Most of it was tattered, with the most recent pieces being at least a thousand years old. If one didn't handle them with care, the rust-eaten armor would simply crumble. This was due to a lack of maintenance.
After a while, Aemon, busy as could be, found three sets of bronze armor that were still relatively intact. One only had the breastplate remaining, and the other two were missing arms and legs.
"Discovered damaged magical items, obtained Magic Essence +5, +3, +5..."
Prompts of varying amounts rang out, and the "Magic Essence Panel" appeared before him. The golden hourglass rotated up and down, emitting a soft glow. When it stopped, the panel changed: [Essence Quantity: 16]
"The amount of Essence obtained varies. What's the connection?"
Aemon, panting for breath, bent down and used an oil lamp to illuminate the sets of armor.
The first set was relatively more complete than the latter two, with more ancient runes engraved on the bronze surface, forming ring-shaped patterns on the chest and wrists. The set that provided the least Essence had a fragile surface covered in green rust, with only the front of the chest still having orderly, ring-shaped runes. After the magic was extracted, the runes seemed to become even more lifeless, showing no spirituality whatsoever. Even the coppery smell grew stronger.
Aemon's eyes darted around as he guessed that the magic originated from these ancient runes. Only the unknown power once mastered by the First Men could possess the potential to attract magic.
"When Mom comes back, I'll try asking her." Perhaps he could get some useful information. He needed more magic.
Confirming that there were no other bronze armors in the tomb, Aemon patted his dirty little hands and prepared to exchange for magic cards.
"Gods be good!" he muttered, and his finger poked the white card on the light panel. That was the only card he could afford.
Bronze armor was different from the vibrant dragon egg; its ability to store and absorb magic was questionable. Now that this search was complete, he didn't know when he could draw magic from them again.
Boop~~
His fingertip touched the light panel, and immediately a dazzling light flashed. The card that read [Guidance Once] shattered instantly, and a golden phantom of a finger detached and pointed to the east, outside the tomb.
Aemon's mouth opened in surprise as a picture suddenly appeared in his mind.
East of Runestone, in a hilly area adjacent to the coast, the perspective continued to zoom in, stopping on a cluster of soft, slender, dark green grass blades. The grass swayed gently, faintly emitting a fragrance.
"I seem to know where that is." The anomaly quickly subsided, and Aemon, based on his memory, happily left the tomb. He even hopped as he walked.
The Vale was a land with vast environmental differences, and the wealth gap between the noble houses was even greater. House Royce was once prominent, with a fief that was second to none in size. Whether for farming or grazing, they lacked for nothing. If it weren't for the fact that the vast coastline east of Runestone was full of towering cliffs or beaches filled with reefs, making it impossible to build a port, their wealth might have even surpassed that of Gulltown, the only major town in the Vale.
The location from the [Guidance Once] card was a lush pasture on the east coast. That cluster of dense, dark green grass blades was a precious herb used for treating insomnia and excessive dreaming.
Creak!
A wooden board was lifted from below, and a small, silver-gold-haired head poked out. Aemon looked left and right, confirming that no one was there before slowly climbing out.
"What were you doing in there!?"
Just as he was halfway out, a man's rough, deep voice came from above, rumbling like muffled thunder.
Aemon was startled, and his big eyes widened. Who is this?
Thump!
The wooden board was kicked open by a large foot, and the panicked Aemon was grabbed by the back of his collar and dropped onto the ground. The sunlight was bright, stinging his eyes.
Looking around, it was still the backyard of Runestone. A tall figure stood in front of him, blocking the dazzling sunlight and lowering a gloomy, rough face.
"Gonsal?"
In front of him was a burly man who stood seven feet tall, well over two meters. The future villain, Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane, was about this size.
After seeing who it was, Aemon straightened his little neck and nodded arrogantly. "Are you questioning me?" Nodding was his greeting. That was the right attitude. If you don't like it, you can hit me. In Runestone, and even on the continent of Westeros, no one would dare to touch him casually. The eight-year-old tough guy, Aemon, thought so.
The two-meter-tall strongman, Gonsal Royce, indeed fell for this, giving a perfunctory salute. "My prince, may I ask what you think of the tomb?"
"I have no opinion, it just needs to be cleaned," Aemon said, getting up and patting his dirty clothes with a righteous air. "It's too dirty inside, so I did it myself." Then he waved his hand, indicating that no thanks were needed.
His background was noble but also full of complexity. Living in Runestone, he was given the surname "Targaryen." Barring any accidents, he would inherit the ancestral property of House Royce in the future. Everything was fine, but his mother, Lady Rhea, hunted all day long, neglecting her son and completely shirking her responsibilities. Yet she never mentioned or asked about the inheritance; her attitude was ambiguous and unclear. This led the collateral and branch members of House Royce to gossip in private, inevitably giving rise to some small ambitions.
In order to avoid trouble, Aemon was particularly tough on "them," never giving in on anything.
Gonsal frowned, and a fierce aura came over him. Without saying a word, his mountain-like size was full of pressure.
"Do you have anything else?" Aemon was not afraid at all, his little neck held straight. Afraid that the other party would forget his identity, he moved forward provocatively, as if to say, "Hit me!"
Gonsal's face grew even darker, leaving him with nothing to say to the silver-haired child who was only as tall as his thigh.
(Note: Gonsal Royce, the "Bronze Giant," is an original character created for this fan fiction. He does not appear in the canonical "Fire & Blood".)
He was from one of the collateral branches of House Royce, a family of landed knights. His bloodline was not as pure as Lady Rhea's, and he did not have the qualifications to inherit Runestone. He currently served as the castle's master-at-arms. Relying on his exaggerated size, he had always been the one to bully others. He had never felt so helpless.
"If you have nothing, then leave." Aemon's momentum steadily gained the upper hand, and seeing his chance, he turned his head to run.
The two-meter-tall strongman in front of him was no ordinary person. According to the history he remembered, after his mother, Lady Rhea, passed away, she appointed a cousin to inherit Runestone. But after the "Dance of the Dragons" ended, the Lord of Runestone became Gonsal, known as the "Bronze Giant." Speaking of which, this guy also killed one of Daemon's future sons-in-law.
(Note: This is a plot point specific to this fan fiction, connecting the original character Gonsal to the canonical events and characters like Daemon Targaryen.)
Aemon walked quickly, thinking of his father who was far away. Daemon had not yet hooked up with his second wife, Laena Velaryon. The matter of future brothers-in-law was still a distant thought.
Just two steps away, Gonsal's unique deep voice came from behind: "Lady Rhea is about to return from her hunt. Septa Marsha is looking everywhere for you to wash up and welcome the Lady."
"Mom is coming back!" Aemon's baby-fat cheeks trembled, and his pace quickened. Ignoring the two-meter-tall strongman, he quickly disappeared into the backyard of the castle.