Red Keep Training Yard – Summer

  The midday sun beat down on the training yard as wooden swords cracked against each other. Daemon advanced with a flurry of strikes, his silver-gold hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Opposite him, Aegon moved with uncanny precision, his slightly smaller frame twisting to deflect each blow.

  The new trait is working perfectly.

  Aegon’s [Elastic Frame] had redistributed his excess bulk into lean muscle over the past months. Where he’d once been a chubby child struggling to keep up, he now matched Daemon’s footwork effortlessly. He pivoted on his heel, dodging a horizontal slash that would’ve bruised his ribs weeks ago.

  Ser Clement Crabb, observing from the sidelines, stroked his beard. "Prince Aegon’s reflexes have sharpened considerably."

  Daemon snarled and lunged again. This time, Aegon didn’t just block, he countered. His practice sword smacked Daemon’s wrist with a loud thwack, forcing a yelp from his brother. Before Daemon could recover, Aegon struck his shoulder, then swept his legs out from under him. The tip of his wooden blade hovered at Daemon’s throat.

  Silence fell across the yard. Even the sparring squads paused to gawk.

  Daemon’s face flushed scarlet. "Again!" he demanded, scrambling up.

  Aegon hesitated. He’d won three rounds today, unprecedented. Too much?

  The next bout was a careful performance. Aegon let Daemon drive him backward, taking a theatrical stumble when their swords locked. Daemon’s final strike tapped his chest with triumphant force.

  "Well fought, brother," Aegon panted, rubbing his sternum. "You’ve gotten faster."

  Daemon’s scowl softened marginally. "Took you down in half the time today."

  Ser Clement eyed Aegon but said nothing.

  Aegon sank into the steaming water with a groan. The royal life had its perks, soft beds, endless feasts, servants attending to his every need, but the relentless schedule wore on him. Mornings were drills with Daemon, afternoons spent memorizing Valyrian histories with the maester, evenings practicing spending time with his grandmother. Only tourneys and feasts broke the monotony, and even those were political theater.

  At least the EXP is good.

  His attachment to Queen Alysanne paid dividends. Noble ladies cooed over his "sensible nature" within earshot, each compliment ticking his EXP upward. Even now, he recalled yesterday’s exchange:

  "Such a dutiful boy," Lady Redwyne had murmured, watching him fetch Alysanne’s shawl without prompting.

  The Queen’s health had improved since he’d become her constant shadow. Color returned to her cheeks, her smiles more frequent. A small victory, but one that strengthened his position.

  Across the castle, Rhaenys continued her flights to Driftmark, barely discreet, though Alysanne no longer chastised her. Probably resigned, Aegon mused. Meanwhile, Viserys had fallen under his new friend, Otto Hightower’s influence, the two whispering over scrolls like miniature lords.

  "Prince, shall I scrub your back?"

  The maid’s voice startled him. She stood by the bath’s edge, a bristle brush in hand. Her round face and thick arms marked her as one of the kitchen servants reassigned to bathing duty.

  Wouldn’t have declined if you were a pretty girl instead of a stout aunt, Aegon thought. Aloud, he said, "Just leave the soap. I’ll manage."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The bath's residual warmth clung to his skin as he padded across the chamber.

  [EXP 16158]

  The glowing numerals hovered at the edge of his vision. Enough for three upgrades. He focused on [Nimble Rascal] and willed the progression forward.

  [-5127 EXP]

  [Class Level Increased: 7 → 10 (MAX)]

  The familiar warmth flooded his limbs, tendrils of heat coiling around muscles and joints. His fingers twitched as the system's energy rewrote his physiology. The updated status shimmered into view:

  [Class : Nimble Rascal (Tier 1)]

  [Prerequisites :

  At least 3 instances of evading adults or guards playfully (satisfied)

  AGI ≥ 3.0 (satisfied)

  Age < 10 (satisfied)]

  [Level 10 (MAX)]

  [Trait : Elastic Frame

  (50% of all passive CON gain is rerouted to DEX and AGI )

  (Movements are boosted by 20%)]

  Aegon sprang from the bed, testing his enhanced agility. His bare feet made no sound as he darted between furniture, the world slowing around him. A roll across the fur rug, a handspring off the wardrobe, movements that would've been impossible months ago. His reflection in the polished bronze mirror showed a boy growing leaner by the day, though traces of childhood softness lingered around his jawline.

  The full moon's light streamed through his chamber window, painting silver streaks across the floor. He paused, watching the celestial body's slow arc. Calm. Focus. The night's real work awaited.

  Closing his eyes, he visualized the crystalline class tree. Two branches now glowed steadily, [Gluttonous Child] and [Nimble Rascal], each having a single shimmering leaf. His attention turned to the faintly pulsing bud on the tree’s stem: the [Valyrian Bloodline - Targaryen Lineage] trait.

  Time for Tier 2.

  He selected [Create], and the familiar text panel materialized. His mental fingers flew as he drafted parameters for the new class, carefully structuring it as a Tier 2 class with dual traits one of them being the [Valyrian Bloodline - Targaryen Lineage] trait. After quadruple-checking, he confirmed the submission..

  The tree shuddered violently. A new branch erupted from the bloodline bud, with two leaves growing on it that shimmered with light. Then,

  The branch started graying out, its glow snuffed like a candle in a storm. Aegon immediately understood that class creation had failed. His eyes flew open to the system's stark notification:

  [FAILED CLASS CREATION - PREREQUISITES PENDING]

  [Class : Heir of Old Valyria (Tier 2)]

  [Prerequisites :

  - Trait: Valyrian Bloodline (satisfied)

  - INT ≥ 9.0 (satisfied)

  - Age < 10 (satisfied)

  - Physical Contact with Dragon or Dragon remains older than 100 years old (pending)

  - Swear an oath in High Valyrian while in contact with a dragonglass relic older than 200 years, pledging to awaken the legacy of Old Valyria (pending) ]

  [Level 1 ( 000 / 1000 )]

  [ Trait: Valyrian Bloodline - Targaryen Lineage

  (+15% natural resistance to heat and fire)

  (+25% in kinship with Dragons)

  (+5% chance of receiving prophetic visions during sleep) ]

  [ Trait: Blood and Flame Awakening

  ( +5% Instinctual Flamecraft: Can create small flickers of fire from blood, your own or another's, by concentrating and sacrificing a few drops. The flame obeys emotion rather than logic.)

  (+3% Obsidian Echo: Slight chance of receiving fragmented visions when near dragonglass) ]

  He sat up slowly, heart pounding in his chest. Finally, a strong class… a real one, something more than just digestion perks or passive stat boosts. This was magic. Real magic. Something out of the old tales, the kind the maesters tiptoe around in dusty libraries and that the septons dismiss as dangerous heresy. But he knew better.

  After all, I have seen both ‘Game of Thrones’ and two seasons of ‘House of the Dragons’.

  The Class creation failed... but not completely.The Class Tree had accepted the concept, but it was waiting for the prerequisites to be fulfilled.

  Same design that I created. This was a mechanism of the class tree. Every failed class creation would appear on the class tree as a branch with leaves as its traits. But it would be grayed out. If the prerequisites are fulfilled later, the class would be created successfully. Now if there was a failed class creation but with impossible prerequisites, a result of trying to create overpowered classes, it would appear as a grayed out branch on the class tree forever.

  Five grayed out branches and the class tree would shatter along with the death of the player and ‘Game Over’ message. So Players had to be very very careful while creating the class.

  Physical contact with a dragon or remains older than 100 years… His mind immediately raced to Vhagar, the colossal she-dragon now bonded to his father Prince Baelon, but that was not possible. His father had already declined his wish of touching it many times previously.

  Then another possibility sparked, Meraxes. Or rather, what remained of her. The skulls… Yes, beneath the Red Keep, down in the vaults, the skulls of the ancient dragons were still preserved, some over a hundred years old. If he could gain access to them, perhaps just brushing a hand against one of their ancient bones would be enough.

  But the second requirement was harder. Swear an oath in High Valyrian while in contact with a dragonglass over 200 years old… The phrasing was specific. It couldn’t be just any obsidian, it had to be old. Very old. That ruled out anything new the smiths might have shaped or any relics the court had collected in recent decades.

  He knew of only one place where such ancient relics might be found, Dragonstone. The ancestral seat of House Targaryen. Built on a volcanic isle, forged in the style of Valyria before the Doom, and still filled with shadows of the old world. If there was ancient dragonglass anywhere, it would be there, maybe even still lining the caves or sealed inside the ancient vaults.

  But how do I get there? He frowned, thinking through his options. Dragonstone was close to King's Landing but not close enough for a casual visit. And a five-year-old prince didn’t exactly get to plan sea voyages on a whim. Not without permission. Not without supervision. He’d need a pretext, a reason, or an opportunity, perhaps when one of the older royals traveled there next.