Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

The camp was bustling with activity.

A groggy Aemon Royce forced himself out of bed, rubbing his bleary eyes as he prepared for the day.

Big plans awaited, and there was no time to sleep in.

Before heading out, he opened his Magical Essence Panel:

[Aemon Targaryen]

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (23%)

Skills: Advanced Valyrian (Proficient), Archery (Skilled)...

Magic Cards: None

Companion: Golden-Nosed Mouse (Blue)

Status: "A healthy, developing human child, with slightly above-average weight."

Aemon blinked, then frowned.

"'Slightly above-average weight'? What's that supposed to mean?" he grumbled to himself. "I'm either fine, or I'm not—don't hedge your bets!"

Still, he quickly shrugged it off, muttering, "Just wait. One day I'll grow up and stun you."

He turned his attention to the Magic Card Interface, which displayed three cards available for redemption:

[Beast Feed Pill]

Effect: Enhances the intelligence and strength of pets or mounts, increasing loyalty.

Cost: 60 Essence

[Steel Longsword]

Grade: Fine-quality weapon.

Cost: 55 Essence

[Solid as Stone]

Effect: "Hardens the skin to be as tough as stone."

Cost: 150 Essence

The third card, glowing faintly blue, caught Aemon's attention immediately.

"Again with this card," he muttered, remembering it from before. Without hesitation, he tapped on it.

Pop!

The card shattered into shimmering blue fragments, which dissolved into a silvery-white stream of light and flowed into his chest.

Aemon shuddered, feeling a subtle transformation sweep through his body. His skin tightened, muscles seemed firmer, and a peculiar sense of strength welled up inside him.

A chime from the panel confirmed the change:

[Solid as Stone +1]: Physical resilience, strength, and stamina slightly increased. Basic physical defense acquired.

Testing it out, Aemon slapped his chest and grinned when he felt only a faint twinge of discomfort.

"This is great!"

To push the limits, he grabbed a small knife from a nearby fruit platter and ran it lightly across his forearm. The blade left only the faintest mark without breaking the skin.

"Ha! I'm practically invincible!"

He beamed at the thought of striding across a battlefield, impervious to arrows or blades. And this was just the beginning—what would an advanced defense upgrade look like?

After basking in his newfound toughness, he noticed his essence count had dwindled significantly:

[Essence Remaining: 67]

"That dragon pit haul was a blessing," Aemon mused. Between the dragon eggs, Dreamfyre's favor, and Syrax's help, he had amassed a whopping 268 Essence.

Now, after spending 60 on [Nimble Hands] and 150 on [Solid as Stone], he barely had enough left for a single green-grade card.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance but quickly brightened up.

"No time to sulk—there's a whole forest waiting to be looted!"

He hurriedly got dressed and headed out, radiating determination.

The King's Wood

Aemon arrived at the designated meeting point, riding on a white steed with Ser Steffon by his side. Behind them trailed Ser Gonsor Royce and two other guards, as well as a contingent of ten Vale knights.

They were met by Rhaenyra, who was already waiting with her own group.

The princess raised a skeptical brow at the sight of Aemon's entourage.

"Why bring so many people?" she asked, her tone half-amused, half-annoyed.

"Small precaution," Aemon replied breezily, letting Ser Steffon help him down from his horse. "Catching a white hart isn't easy, you know."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "If you wanted to catch it, you should've joined my father's hunting party. They're the ones tracking it."

Aemon grinned mischievously, avoiding a direct answer.

Behind Rhaenyra stood a group of young nobles, mostly men, who vied for her attention. Among them was the ostentatious Jason Lannister, his golden locks gleaming in the sunlight as he adjusted his meticulously styled hair.

Aemon furrowed his brow, his voice dropping into a deadpan tone. "Isn't he supposed to be with my uncle?"

Rhaenyra shrugged. "Who knows? He and the others just showed up."

The truth was obvious—these "youths" were all competing for her favor. Jason, in particular, seemed incapable of subtlety.

"Let's move," Rhaenyra declared, taking Aemon's hand like a protective older sister.

She paused, frowning slightly. "Your skin... it feels softer than usual. And you look... paler?"

"Good sleep," Aemon replied casually, dodging further scrutiny.

As they walked, Aemon's sharp eyes assessed the group surrounding Rhaenyra. A few seemed competent, but most were driven by ulterior motives. None seemed worth befriending.

Jason Lannister, however, stood out—for all the wrong reasons. His pompous demeanor and foppish airs made him a walking target for ridicule.

"Jason, perhaps you should send someone ahead to scout," Rhaenyra suggested pointedly, hoping to get rid of him.

Jason puffed out his chest and bowed theatrically. "Of course, Princess."

Aemon suppressed a snicker, watching the self-proclaimed gentleman stride off.

Meanwhile, Aemon released his golden-nosed mouse, feeding it a grape as it scurried into the underbrush.

"Find us something good," he whispered.

The group began to move, and Aemon noticed a hulking figure trailing at the rear.

The man, with his square jaw and lion-like features, stood out not just for his size but for the way his eyes lingered on Rhaenyra.

Aemon recognized him immediately: Ser Harwin Strong, also known as "Breakbones."

Aemon wrinkled his nose, muttering under his breath, "A bit early, aren't we?"

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Harwin Strong annoyed him. He was tempted to provoke him, just to see how he'd react.

Without thinking, he pointed at the man and called out, "What are you staring at?"

The words rang out, clear and sharp, drawing every gaze in the clearing.

Harwin froze, his confident smirk faltering as a wave of awkward silence settled over the group.

Even Rhaenyra was stunned, grabbing Aemon by the arm and hissing, "What are you doing?"

Aemon squirmed in her grip but didn't back down. Harwin's face turned an unflattering shade of red as he struggled to respond.

But what could he say? Challenging an eight-year-old to a duel wasn't exactly chivalrous.

Rhaenyra wasted no time pulling Aemon away, muttering under her breath, "What is wrong with you?"

"It's not my fault he's creepy!" Aemon protested.

As they rode off, Aemon sighed dramatically.

"Shame," he thought. "If Harwin had snapped back, I could've caused a real scene."

For now, he'd have to settle for searching the King's Wood and biding his time.