Chapter 270: Descendants of Valyria


    The sun was setting.


    The caravan of dwarf elephants crossed the long bridge and arrived in the eastern part of the city, where the environment markedly improved.


    The carriage ve bowed humbly, his voice rough, "My lord, there''s a ck wall ahead. I can''t go any further."


    "Understood," Rhaegar replied. He lifted the curtain and stepped down from the carriage, casually tossing two gold dragons to the ve.


    "Thank you, my lord," the ve said, bowing even lower as he hastily epted the coins.


    Westeros and Vntis had different coinage systems. Westeros used gold dragons, silver stags, copper stars, and copper pennies, while Vntis minted gold coins with engraved images and epted coins from variousnds.


    As Rhaegar walked forward, he saw by the moonlight that the area was dotted with flower gardens, statues, and fountains. Most of these fountains, however, were dry or filled with stagnant water, and the air still carried a nauseating odor.


    It was gettingte. Rhaegar decided not to rush to find the city Triarchs; securing a ce to stay first was the best course of action.


    Soon, he spotted a towering building surrounded by parked carriages. It was a four-story structure made of stone, a real monstrosity."The Merchant''s House," Rhaegar read aloud, grinning. "Found a ce to stay."


    ...


    The next day, within the ck walls of the east city district, the streets were neat and orderly. Wealthy residents reclined on sedan chairs carried by ves, apanied by dainty ve girls.


    Everything exuded a sense of natural corruption.


    At the entrance of the Tiger Party''s Residence, a ck-robed figure stood and knocked on the closed door. A ve hurriedly opened it and respectfully weed the visitor inside.


    The mansion''s interior boasted a three-story pavilion with carved beams and intricate paintings. Rhaegar sat on a velvet stool, indifferently observing female ves ying in the courtyard fountain.


    Before long, a tall, robust man entered the pavilion, nked by two ve girls.


    "Hahaha, wee, Prince of House Targaryen! It is truly an honor to have you in my humble abode!" the man eximed, arms spread wide.


    Rhaegar turned and replied politely, "Lord Mquo, please forgive my unannounced visit."


    Maintaining his noble demeanor, Rhaegar exuded elegance and grace.


    Mquo Maegyr, with his rough face and bushy beard, responded boldly, "I was a good friend of your uncle. You, of the great Dragonlord bloodline, are always wee here."


    As a member of Vntis''s old nobility, Mquo believed deeply in the importance of bloodlines. Most Vntenes prided themselves on their Valyrian descent. The Targaryens, as thest Dragonlord family, held an undisputed noble lineage.


    After exchanging pleasantries, Rhaegar got to the point, inquiring about the Tiger Party''s views on the Triarchy and their rtionship with Daemon.


    Mquo did not mince words. He exined that the Triarchy was in a weakened state, and the long-suppressed old aristocracy of Vntis saw an opportunity to reassert themselves. However, the Tiger Party was not the sole ruling faction. The Elephant Party, consisting of merchants and moneylenders, showed no interest in war. The struggle for power between the two parties had already resulted in casualties.


    Mquo openly admitted his correspondence with Daemon. Daemon had established a friendship with Mquo and the Tiger Party, promising to suppress the Triarchy''s trade routes.


    Even without explicit details, Rhaegar understood the implications. If the Tiger Party gained the upper hand, they would likely form a stronger alliance with Daemon.


    After a lengthy discussion, Mquo ordered a sumptuous meal. Rhaegar epted the invitation, and the two dined together, solidifying their newfound friendship.


    As the meal ended, Mquo''s eyes gleamed with purpose. "Prince, why not stay at my residence for a while? I will treat you with the utmost courtesy."


    Rhaegar''s reputation, known throughout the Nine Free Trade City-States, carried the title of the Maker of Ruins. Recognizing Rhaegar as a war-advocating Dragonlord like Daemon, Mquo saw an opportunity to gain the upper hand against the Elephants with Targaryen support.


    Seeing through Mquo''s intentions, Rhaegar politely declined. "No, I must visit the other two cities and experience more of Vntis."


    "Prince, the members of the Elephant Party are stubborn and might offend you," Mquo cautioned. "I have the most beautiful, voluptuous ve girls. Stay and enjoy theirpany."


    "My journey is not yet over, and I must respectfully decline your offer," Rhaegar replied, rising to leave. He was uninterested in the ve girls, preferring to explore Vntis and absorb its unique customs.


    ...


    After leaving the mansion, Rhaegar pulled up his hood and stepped into the bustling streets. In that moment, he understood Daemon''s wanderlust. The feeling of being alone was invigorating.


    He wandered the crowded streets, the passersby indifferent to his presence. Finding the residence of the ruler of the Elephant Party proved to be a challenge, as they were even more xenophobic than the hospitable Tiger Party.


    Inspired by a beggar, Rhaegar thought of a ce where information would be abundant—the Long Bridge. Lined with countless restaurants, brothels, and shops, it was the best ce to gather news.


    "I missed itst night, so I''ll make up for it today," he murmured, hurrying towards the bridge.


    The ck wall that separated the rich and poor in the East City District loomed ahead. Rhaegar easily passed through the massive barrier, built from ck dragonstone, and stepped onto the Long Bridge. The environment shifted dramatically—from the cold indifference of the affluent area to the vibrant hustle and bustle of the marketce.


    Without the elephant cart, Rhaegar moved between the stores on either side of the bridge, the air filled with noise. He noticed atrine cleaner with a fly tattoo on his face, a cksmith with a hammer tattoo. They were all ves, closely monitored by their masters,boring tirelessly.


    "O Lord! Give us light!" a loud woman''s voice suddenly rang out, reciting a prayer. More voices joined in, men and women repeating the chant.


    "For the night is dark and full of terrors."


    Intrigued, Rhaegar followed the sound to an open corner. A striking woman in red robes stood on a raised tform of hay bales, passionately preaching to a group of ragged, cored ves. They listened intently, their eyes filled with hope.


    Rhaegar watched the scene, drawn to the Red Woman''s presence. He had encountered followers of the Lord of Light before, including two red-robed women he had killed. Though once blessed by the Lord of Light, those encounters had soured his perception of the deity, whom he now suspected to be an evil god with malevolent followers.


    "The God of Light listens to your prayers, regardless of who you are..." the Red Woman continued, her voice stirring the ves'' spirits.


    Bored, Rhaegar turned away. The faith of the Lord of Light was widespread in Essos, and Vntis housed thergest temple of R''hllor, beloved by themoners and ves. The rich and powerful, however, scorned and dismissed it.


    As Rhaegar walked, the tiles of the brothel overhead blocked the sunlight, narrowing the path.


    "Quickly! Grab that ve girl, don''t let her get away!"


    "Damn it, I''ll sell her to the lowest brothel..."


    Suddenly, a burst of yelling and cursing erupted nearby. Rhaegar pulled back his hood and lowered his eyes, watching themotion.


    On the crowded street, a passerby was knocked over in the chaos, and a woman with disheveled hair darted out. Her face was obscured, but her skin was strikingly white, almost translucent like pure milk pudding. The most eye-catching feature was her long, dirty hair—silver-gold, a color Rhaegar knew well.


    "Valyrian descendant," he murmured, observing like a disinterested passerby.


    He didn''t intervene. Vntis, the first colony of the Freehold, had spread Valyrian blood for centuries. Just moments ago, he had seen a whore with silvery blonde curls among the ves.


    "Stop her, she''s a runaway!" The pursuing ve trader yelled, closing in on the woman.


    The white-skinned woman struggled to escape, darting past Rhaegar and carrying a faint, not unpleasant breeze. This breeze lifted Rhaegar''s hood, revealing his own prominent silver-blonde hair.


    The fleeing woman nced back and saw Rhaegar. She froze, tripping and falling heavily onto the muddy bridge.


    The ve trader caught up, punching and kicking her, pulling her cor, and dragging her like a dead dog. Hearing her screams, Rhaegar was about to leave, uninterested in the spectacle.


    "My lord, help me, please!" The woman''s clear, miserable cry rang out.


    Rhaegar ignored it, silently putting on his hood.


    But the woman kept struggling. She bit the ve trader''s hand and broke free, flinging herself at Rhaegar''s feet in a panic. "My lord, please help me," she begged.


    Surprised, Rhaegar looked down at her. "Why should I help you?"


    His right hand, wearing a spatial bracelet, retracted into his ck robes, though he felt inclined to assist.


    The woman tugged at his trouser leg, panic-stricken. She pushed back her hair, revealing a beautiful face, and spoke quickly. "My name is Dae, and you are a Targaryen descendant. Please help me for the sake of the name."


    "Dae?" Rhaegar''s eyes widened slightly, his mind reeling. Dae was his grandmother''s name—Dae Targaryen, the eighth child and fourth daughter of his great-grandfather, Jaehaerys the First.


    "Get out of the way, boy!" Several ve traders surrounded them, grimacing.


    One of them, a sharp-tongued man, pointed at Dae and said coldly, "She''s a ve girl from the brothel, and she cost us a hundred gold coins."