Game of Thrones: I'm Dothrak King!!
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Tristan was a man of action. The second he said he'd get Daeron the book, he barked orders at his men and sent them running.
The book wasn't in his hands yet.
"The original of The Way of Wind!"
Daeron felt a real spark of interest when he heard the title.
The Way of Wind was one of the items the book merchants sold, same as Riding Secrets.
"So the book merchants really are based in the east."
With Tristan's information, Daeron felt even more certain.
The original copy was sitting in Graven's mansion. Graven and his pet wizards treated it like holy scripture. They'd reverse-engineered the magic inside and turned it into the secret wind-rider sails that gave ships a flat twenty-five percent speed boost without needing any wind at all.
That was how those special sails had been born.
The original supposedly came from Asshai. Some wizard sold it to Graven.
"Asshai. File that away."
Daeron made a mental note.
But he had zero intention of going there himself—just like he wasn't touching the Smoking Sea.
Asshai sat at the farthest eastern edge of the continent, built inside the Shadow Lands. People called it the City of Shadows. The place was crawling with wizards and shadowbinders, completely alien to every other culture in the world.
In history, the greatest sailor the Seven Kingdoms ever produced—Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake—had visited once during his nine voyages. No one from Westeros had reached it since.
Lord Lucerys had made five long voyages, but the farthest he ever got was the Jade Sea near Yi Ti and Qarth. He never made it to Asshai.
Because Asshai was dangerous as hell and resources were scarce. Very few ships ever came back from there.
"Those secret sails are damn good. Twenty-five percent faster and they don't even need wind."
Daeron looked out the window at Myr's bright blue sky and set his sights on the city's real treasure—its technology.
Myr was a good place.
Lys was beautiful, but it felt like a vacation spot. Stay too long and you got bored fast.
Tyrosh was rough, sitting right next to the Stepstones, and resources were limited.
Most importantly, both cities were stuck on islands. Islands never gave you that solid, grounded feeling the mainland did.
Myr had real technology and was protected by a wide, calm bay—almost exactly like King's Landing sitting behind Blackwater Bay.
"If I can get my hands on the cutting-edge tech behind these secret sails, the crown can finally build a real elite navy that doesn't have to rely on anyone else."
Daeron knew the power of technological monopoly.
The royal fleet was supposed to belong to the crown, but most of the actual ships belonged to House Velaryon. They didn't answer directly to the throne. That gave Lucerys Velaryon the perfect chance to grow arrogant and powerful. The man had the balls to stand up to Tywin and even hide things from the Iron Throne itself.
For a king with real ambition, that was unacceptable. Daeron wanted his own dedicated navy to keep Velaryon in check.
"Compared to the secret sails, Volantis and Slaver's Bay are more interesting right now."
A few days later, Daeron received some fragmented reports. The trail pointed in two clear directions.
The Summer Sea.
The Iron Fleet sailed in tight formation, oarsmen pulling in perfect rhythm as they passed Lys waters and headed toward Volantis.
Victarion stood on the deck in heavy plate armor and a kraken-shaped helmet, looking like a walking iron gate.
"The sea wind tastes salty. I can smell dry land."
Beside him, a young ironborn with wet long hair and pale skin stood with his eyes closed, sensing the waves ahead.
Victarion's voice was rough. "Euron. Just give me the result."
"Wet Hair" Euron opened his eyes. A flash of purple flickered in them. "No storms for the next three days. We can push the pace."
The once-timid Greyjoy boy had grown into the ironborn's high priest.
"Good!"
Victarion laughed. "The king ordered me to the Smoking Sea area. I'm ready."
He knew his little brother's gift.
During the storm Balon had summoned that wrecked half the Iron Islands, Euron fell overboard and awakened the ability to sense wind and waves at sea. He became high priest because of it.
Recently Euron had absorbed an amethyst and could even see the dead in the water.
"I don't know if it's real, but I believe him."
Victarion was rough but sharp. He saw his brother wasn't quite right in the head and gave him plenty of leeway.
"My lord… I saw the Smoking Sea. I saw a dragon's shadow flash past."
Euron's eyes were dull, like dead fish.
Victarion's brow furrowed. He lowered his voice. "What else?"
"Shadows and blood. And a shadow monster with tentacles like snakes."
Euron spoke slowly, like he was reading off slides. "And grass and sunlight. A giant dragon bursting out of stone."
Victarion was a capable commander, but this left him confused.
A twisted monster in shadows… a dragon flying out of rock…
What the hell did that mean?
"The Smoking Sea is a cursed place covered in smoke year-round. Where the fuck is grass and sunlight coming from?"
Victarion reasonably suspected his brother's mind had gotten worse.
Euron's face was visibly paling—from wet white to bloodless gray. He started swaying and looked ready to collapse.
"Someone help the high priest back to his cabin."
Victarion didn't move to help. He waited until two ironborn carried Euron away before looking back out to sea.
Honestly, he was starting to have doubts about this mission.
The Smoking Sea was a nightmare every sailor avoided.
He didn't have to enter it. He just had to sail near it, near Volantis and Slaver's Bay, gather whatever information leaked out, and look for the missing royal treasures if the chance came.
"Ironborn fear nothing."
Victarion's face was like hammered iron. He had courage to spare and muttered, "Fucking Euron. I hear you're running around the Stepstones and the Summer Sea. Don't let me catch you, or I'll hook your eyelids with fishing line, skin you, and hang you up to dry in the sea wind like salted meat."
Before that, he had a job to do for the king.
Daeron clapped his hands once. The book The Way of Wind I flipped open by itself with a rustle. Knowledge poured straight into his head in the simplest, most brutal way.
He opened the panel and went to the [Special Abilities & Items] tab.
Next to [Forest Magic], a new ability lit up: [Wind Path].
Wind Path I: After learning, permanently increases movement speed by 0.25.
Daeron waved his hand. His agility stat didn't change, but a rush of fire from his blood wrapped a faint wind around his arms. The breeze couldn't cover his whole body, so it settled on his legs.
"So this is magic?"
Daeron's eyes shone. For the first time he felt the real fun of casting magic.
[Forest Magic] was more like a passive.
[Wind Path] was also passive—it used almost no mana and wrapped a faint, invisible but tangible breeze around the user's legs for a permanent +0.25 speed.
But Forest Magic opened a new sense, while Wind Path gave his legs a real, touchable wind. It felt stranger and more exciting.
"If I can get Wind Path II, I'll get +0.5 permanent speed. That's half again as fast."
Daeron tasted the benefit and wanted more.
If he was right, Wind Path should work on dragons too when he was riding.
Just like in Stardew Valley, when the farmer rode a horse, the horse got the speed buff too.
Knock knock knock!
Tristan's voice came from outside. "Your Grace, are you ready?"
"There's a Lannister here to see you."
"Just a minute!" Daeron called back politely.
They met in the hall shortly after.
Daeron grabbed Tristan's arm and pressed a bottle of starfruit wine into his hand. "Thank you for the gift. I really like it."
"This is my return gift."
Learning Wind Path had awakened a trace of magic in him—fire from his blood. It was still weak, but he'd crossed the threshold into wizard apprentice.
"Special abilities are always a nice surprise."
Daeron loved getting new powers the same way he loved a bumper crop.
"It was the least I could do, Your Grace."
Tristan accepted the starfruit wine solemnly. He didn't know the exact value, but special fruit wines were always ridiculously expensive.
The Iron Throne brewed two kinds: one made with large American raspberries sold at high prices to eastern merchants, and another made with ancient fruit used only for royal gifts.
This was the first time Tristan had seen starfruit wine. It had to be valuable.
"That's worth a fortune. Even Tywin hasn't tasted it."
Daeron only made small batches of starfruit wine and mostly sold it. He kept very little for himself.
The main benefit was strengthening the body and nourishing life force. Long-term drinking gave huge boosts to vitality.
"Oh, then it must be an incredibly rare and excellent wine."
Tyrion popped out from behind Tristan, staring at the pale yellow bottle with obvious envy.
Daeron had seen him already. "Tyrion, what are you doing here?"
"Your Grace, after I went to the Stepstones I studied the islands' layout and currents and came up with a very, very perfect plan."
Tyrion spoke confidently. "I gave Ser Davos a full workload. He promised to follow my instructions and build the first trading town."
Yes. Being clever as he was, he'd dumped all the actual work on Davos.
Daeron's brow furrowed. "Are you ignoring what I told you?"
"No no no."
Tyrion shook his head quickly, as if it was obvious. "Davos is a good knight with plenty of talent and grit. Don't you think this is a great chance for him to grow?"
Daeron's frown deepened.
The little shit had read his mind perfectly—he knew Daeron wanted to train Davos—and used it as an excuse to dump the job and get out of work himself.
That kind of calculated avoidance wasn't cute.
"If the Stepstones task isn't finished, I'll cut off your head."
Daeron kept his voice flat. He wasn't joking.
"I guarantee it. No problem at all."
Tyrion looked full of confidence.
Daeron added, "I'll cut off your little head."
Tyrion suddenly looked like he regretted everything and wanted to sail back immediately to personally supervise the construction.