After leaving a "soul coordinate" in Jaquen's palm, Dany silently returned to her bedroom in the Quill and Tankard, lit the glass candle, and re-entered the library to continue poring over the Citadel's ancient texts.
Aside from The Power Nodes of Magic and A Guide to the Use of Sorcerer's Lenses, what shocked Dany the most was Brother Barth's Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: A Unnatural History of Dragonkind.
It wasn't the first time she'd heard of An Unnatural History. Long ago, when she was discussing the origins of dragons with her Dothraki handmaid, Ser Barristan had mentioned this book and strongly urged her to find and read it.
Well, the version the White Knight found in Illyrio's private collection had been incomplete, missing several volumes.
The author of An Unnatural History wasn't a maester, but a septon—Septon Barth, who once served as Hand of the King to King Jaehaerys the Conciliator, also known as the Old King.
King Jaehaerys was almost the Targaryen equivalent of the Kangxi Emperor (comparing him to Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han would be a bit of a stretch). He was the grandson of Aegon the Conqueror, and among all the kings of the dynasty, he was the wisest and most intelligent. He also had the longest reign—fifty-five years!
Of course, compared to Septon Barth, who served as Hand for forty years, King Jaehaerys' life might not seem so legendary after all.
Barth was originally a blacksmith's son. His family was poor, and his father handed him over to the Faith to be raised as a septon (likely to settle a debt with the Church).
Much like Wei Xiaobao meeting the Kangxi Emperor, the young Septon Barth encountered the book-loving Prince Jaehaerys while working in the Royal Library. They hit it off immediately and quickly became close friends—well, perhaps even more than that, ahem.
Barth's scholarly and magical talents were just as extraordinary as Wei Xiaobao's skills in flattery and opportunism.
Perhaps due to access to the royal archives—or other unknown sources—Barth wrote a comprehensive tome detailing dragon lore: Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: A Unnatural History of Dragonkind.
What shocked Dany about this book was that it explained the origin of Valyrian dragons through two lenses: biological evolution and the blood sorcery of species modification.
Barth believed Valyrian dragons were fundamentally different from other dragons found in various regions and eras: Valyrian dragons were deliberately engineered biological weapons, created through blood sorcery!
An Unnatural History proposed two key theories. First, the wyverns of the Sothoryos jungles and swamps, the fireworms of the Fourteen Flames, and the great dragons all share a common ancestor. The great dragon was the most perfect evolutionary form—possessing both the body and magical fire-breathing capabilities.
Wyverns, though shaped like dragons, lacked magical power and could not breathe fire.
Fireworms, on the other hand, had magical abilities but lacked the physical form—unable to fly.
Second, Valyrian dragons were created by blood sorcerers using wyverns as a base. Blood magic was used to evolve wyverns into dragons, hence why Valyrians were naturally born dragonriders.
Now, an explanation is needed for what exactly fireworms and wyverns are.
In the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, there are three major continents: Westeros in the far west (comparable to the British Isles), Essos (Eurasia), and Sothoryos in the southern hemisphere (a fusion of Africa and South America).
Sothoryos is largely undeveloped. Civilized nations don't dare venture there—it's a harsh land, practically a paradise for diseases.
For example, the infamous Yunkish man known as "Brown Ben Plumm"'s rival, Yazzan zo Qaggaz, once handsome and valiant, visited Sothoryos across the Summer Sea and came back diseased and paralyzed from the waist down.
In that wild land, wyverns are not uncommon.
Fireworms
Dany hadn't known what fireworms were—until she saw the descriptions and illustrations in An Unnatural History and realized, in shock, that they were the same fire leeches she had encountered in Oros.
When Balerion possessed Jeyne, it vomited mucus that contained countless fireworm larvae. In fact, its very body seemed to be made up of fireworms.
According to An Unnatural History, fireworms inhabit the Fourteen Flames. Their larvae are roughly the size of a child's arm, while adult fireworms grow nearly as large as wingless dragons.
—A "fire-breathing earthworm" that can swallow a mammoth whole. Are you scared yet?
An Unnatural History wasn't just idle speculation. Septon Barth, writing as a magical scholar, laid out a detailed and logical explanation of Valyrian blood sorcery.
A brilliant work of scholarship—until it ran into the fanatic Saint Baelor, who banned it as heresy and ordered every copy across the realm burned.
Suddenly, Dany's expression shifted. She set the book down and appeared in the second-floor sitting room in a flash.
"Maester Perestan," Ser Barristan whispered.
They had a prior agreement: if someone unexpectedly came while Dany was reading in the library, Barristan would pace quickly back and forth in the room to alert her.
The psychic projection she had left in the White Knight could sense such movement.
Of course, if Dany hadn't left even a projection behind, Barristan would simply tell the visitor: "Lady Leila is out."
"Maester, it's quite late. What brings you here?" Dany appeared at the door with Ser Barristan.
"I came to inform you both that the Citadel has finalized its strategy to reduce the trade deficit," said the red-nosed old man, walking over to the table. He opened a folder and slid it in front of Dany, explaining, "As a world-class nation, we must never compromise our integrity. We can't default on debts, nor can we blatantly resort to piracy."
World-class nation, my ass. Aside from Westeros itself, who doesn't see you as a barbaric backwater?
Dany carefully reviewed the strategy document. Three main points:
First, convene a Great Council to persuade the king and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms to practice frugality.
Second, use the council to discuss her previously proposed industrial chain initiative and develop key domestic industries.
Third, conquer the Stepstones and levy tolls on passing merchant ships.
Between Westeros and the continent of Essos lies a narrow sea—500 kilometers wide and 2,500 kilometers long. The Stepstones lie at its mouth.
Legend has it that the Stepstones were once part of the Arm of Dorne, connecting Westeros and Essos. When the First Men invaded via the land bridge, the greenseers cast a forbidden magic to shatter it, forming the Stepstones—a chain of islands.
In simple terms: the Narrow Sea = a supersized English Channel, and the Stepstones = the channel's gateway. Just imagine the strategic influence of fully controlling the English Channel over continental Europe.
"I fear it won't be easy," the old knight shook his head and sighed. "Everyone knows that controlling the Stepstones is equivalent to controlling all sea trade across the Narrow Sea.
Two hundred years ago, the Free Cities of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr formed the Kingdom of the Three Daughters—Valyria's 'three daughters'—in an attempt to claim the Stepstones. But as you know, after decades of struggle, the alliance crumbled."
"Uniting the strength of the Seven Kingdoms to conquer the Stepstones is still better than sending their fleets to play pirates," said the red-nosed old maester.
"Not necessarily," Dany shook her head. "Being a pirate offers freedom to advance or retreat, policies are flexible, and you don't risk inciting public outrage or bearing the burden of holding territory."
Maester Perestan gave a wry smile. "You have to think from the nobles' perspective. The reputation of pirates is terrible. If captured by the enemy, they could be hanged immediately—losing both honor and life.
But if the Stepstones were conquered in the name of the Seven Kingdoms, a captured noble would receive the treatment of a high-ranking prisoner of war and could most likely be ransomed back with gold. Fighting for the realm, even if defeated, wouldn't be shameful and their honor would remain intact."
"Uh..." Dany was stunned.
"It's late. Would you like something to eat?" The old maester stood up, opened the door, and rang a bell to call an apprentice to bring them food.
The old maester was brisk and didn't give anyone a chance to refuse. After ordering the meal, Dany finally muttered, "Actually, I'm not hungry. Eating too much at night makes you gain weight."
"Just have some soup to warm your stomach," the old maester said with a warm smile.
Then he started asking questions about developing industrial chains.
"We've tried silkworm farming in Westeros, but the weather in the Seven Kingdoms is too extreme—hot enough to kill in summer, and freezing in winter. Does Miss Leila have any suggestions?"
Dany's eyes flicked with thought. "You could try reaching out to the Children of the Forest. They understand magic. Maybe they could help cultivate native mulberry trees and silkworms."
"Haha, Miss Leila, you do like to joke. The Children of the Forest are fictional characters from legends. There's no real proof they ever existed. And even if they did, they must've gone extinct thousands of years ago." The red-nosed old maester shook his head, chuckling.
"White Walkers have appeared—why can't the Children of the Forest be real too?" Dany replied with a faint, cold smile.
"White Walkers? Who told you that? That's nonsense."
"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, along with Maester Aemon, both wrote letters describing the situation. Do you think they're lying?"
"Maester, Miss Leila, your supper has arrived," came the voice of the apprentice from outside.
The white knight quickly got up to open the door.
There was wine, buttered beets, freshly baked white bread, roasted garfish and pork ribs, egg and lime cold soup, and barley beef stew.
To be honest, seeing such a feast made the old knight drool. But then he caught sight of the middle-aged apprentice, Theon, smiling as he arranged the dishes—with a tiny fleck of cumin at the corner of his lips.
"Sigh, an old man shouldn't eat too much at night," Barristan said.
He was craving it, but he had no desire to eat someone else's saliva.
"Have some soup, Miss Leila, give it a try too," the old maester said cheerfully, picking up a ladle and small porcelain bowl, courteously serving them both.
Dany didn't touch the bowl. Instead, she returned to the previous topic, asking seriously, "If the news about the White Walkers is false, at worst it's just a scare. But if it's true, and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms ignore the Night's Watch's call for help, it could be a catastrophe."
"There are no White Walkers—just some wildlings. The Night's Watch exaggerated on purpose to gain favor and support from the nobles. But with the current political turmoil, who has the resources to help them? At most, a group of wildlings might climb the Wall and cause a bit of trouble in the North."
Maester Perestan dismissed the matter with a casual tone, then pushed the bowl closer to Dany again. "Try it, the taste is quite good."
As the white knight finally gave in to the host's enthusiasm and scooped a spoonful of thick soup into his mouth, Dany suddenly stiffened, stopping his hand mid-motion. She stared directly at the old maester, sneering coldly, "Maester, why haven't you served yourself a bowl?"
Perestan froze, then chuckled, "I already ate earlier."
"So, you've figured out who I really am," Dany sighed, her expression complicated. "Maester, do you understand what you're doing?"
"What identity?" The apprentice, still setting the dishes, sensed something was off and asked, confused.
"Damn it!" The old knight had already sensed something when Dany stopped him. He swiftly grabbed the iron helmet by the table and put it on. Seeing Theon's bewildered face, he immediately shouted, "Maester, quickly, the antidote—"
"Ugh—" The middle-aged apprentice suddenly clutched his throat, face turning red. In a voice as light as a feather, he choked, "I… cough cough… can't… cough cough cough…"
Clang! The tray slipped from his hands. Theon staggered, bracing himself against the table. Under the three pairs of eyes—some sympathetic, some anxious, some regretful—his face flushed deeper and deeper. With a loud thud, he collapsed, both hands clawing madly at his throat.
If he'd had a dagger, Theon would have sliced open his throat without hesitation, just to take one more breath of fresh air.
"Ghh… ghh…" But no matter how his nails tore his throat bloody, all that came from deep inside was a thin, terrifying hiss—like a man trying to drink the Yangtze River through a straw.
And within just half a minute, even that final rasping faded. The room fell into a terrifying silence.
(End of Chapter)
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