“Is this the dragon egg?” Nyria gazed at the egg before her in awe, her hand hovering over it as if she feared to touch it. Her fingers brushed the smooth surface every now and then, her voice tinged with disbelief as she asked, “Is it one of the seven dragon eggs from Sumrhall that year?”
“Mmm!” Lynd nodded in response.
When Lynd returned to the camp, he avoided the others, heading straight to his tent. Once inside, he dismissed the maidservants with a curt instruction to leave. Only then did he take out the dragon egg.
There was no fixed value assigned to such an artifact. So claid it was priceless, while others said its worth equaled that of a large ship. But one thing was certain—many would risk everything for it.
Lynd wasn’t particularly worried about the egg being stolen, yet he had no desire to announce its existence to the world. The saying "the bigger the tree, the stronger the wind blows" echoed in his mind. The origin of the egg was too difficult to explain, and the less attention it attracted, the better.
“You just found it in Sumrhall? How is that possible?” Nyria's reaction was swift and incredulous—exactly what anyone from the Smallfolk would expect to feel upon hearing such a claim.
The fire at Sumrhall was a tragedy from decades past. The Targaryens and countless others had scoured the ruins many tis over, eventually concluding that Aegon V's dragon eggs were no longer there. For Lynd to now claim he had found one seed absurd.
How could anyone believe it? If word spread, people might whisper that he was the bastard of so Targaryen lineage, citing his helt adorned with a crown and a flying dragon, or simply because of the egg itself.
Even King Robert, who held him in high regard, might grow suspicious. And Jon Arryn, aware of Lynd's secret dealings with Varys, would find the situation equally troubling. Lynd knew that in such a case, even if he had a hundred tongues, he couldn’t explain his way out of it.
Still, faced with Nyria's skepticism, Lynd decided to recount his experiences at Sumrhall.
Nyria listened intently, her expression shifting as if she had been transported back to her childhood, to nights when her nanny told her frightening bedti stories. Her wide-eyed disbelief lingered, rendering her speechless for a long while.
“Are you serious? You're not joking?” she finally asked, her voice unusually deep after the prolonged silence.
“It’s true,” Lynd said with a firm nod.
Nyria fell into thought before speaking again. “In other words, the dragon egg was given to you by the ghost of Aegon V?”
Lynd’s mind flashed back to the image of Aegon V, frail and blind, gesturing toward the dragon egg as Ser Duncan carried him away. Hesitantly, he replied, “It may not have been a ghost. It could have been…”
He trailed off, unable to provide a definite explanation. If he had ti-traveled, then the people in Sumrhall at the ti would have been able to see him. Yet only the blind Aegon V and the mysterious female dwarf had seed aware of his presence.
If those two possessed special powers, then surely the Child of the Forest, Spark—who had rescued the female dwarf—must have been far more attuned. Yet Spark had shown no sign of recognizing Lynd when they later t in the Kingswood. She had regarded Lynd as a complete stranger.
But if ti-travel hadn’t occurred, how could Lynd explain feeling the intense heat of the flas during the Sumrhall fire? He had even noticed singed corners on his clothes when he returned to the present. More baffling still was the fact that he now possessed a dragon egg that had supposedly disappeared decades ago.
Everything about the situation carried an air of the uncanny. Lynd was at a loss for answers.
His gaze returned to the dragon egg. Even without the eyes of Glory, his extraordinary vision revealed its brilliance. Magic radiated from the egg like flas encased in glass, flickering with an otherworldly intensity.
There was no doubt in his mind: this dragon egg was not dead. Whether it could hatch a dragon, however, was another question entirely. And even if it did, who would have the ability to ta such a creature?
In the mories of the Banished Knight, there were ceremonies for worshiping dragons, thods for slaying them, and even Dragon Communion Rituals. But no instructions existed for riding one.
“Can it hatch a dragon?” Nyria asked, noticing that Lynd also looked confused.
“Maybe?” Lynd replied uncertainly.
If he went by the explanation from the old man in his previous life, the hatching of the three dragons from the Mother of Dragons' eggs a decade later was more of an accident than a certainty.
But now, in a real world with its own rules, things were different. Perhaps this dragon egg could also lead to an unexpected miracle.
“So how do we hatch it?” Nyria asked again, her excitent evident as she gazed at the dragon egg.
It wasn’t surprising that she was so excited. Growing up in Westeros, they had both heard countless tales of dragons. Every child dread of one day riding a dragon. But as they matured, they realized it was an impossible fantasy and eventually let go of that childhood hope. Now, with a dragon egg right before her, whether it could hatch or not, Nyria felt a surge of hope she hadn’t felt since she was young.
Lynd observed Nyria’s enthusiasm and said, “I might be able to give it a try.”
“You really think you can hatch a dragon egg?” Nyria asked, her doubt apparent.
Lynd replied seriously, “We can try, but there’s no guarantee.”
Lynd wasn’t speaking without reason. The Banished Knights’ mories of dragon worship included more than just rituals; they also had techniques for finding abandoned dragon eggs and hatching them. Their thod of incubation had a remarkably high success rate. Most viable dragon eggs hatched successfully, and even so semi-petrified ones ca to life.
There was, however, a drawback: most dragons hatched this way were alien dragons. But by the standards of the Banished Knights, the dragons in this world were also considered alien dragons, so this might not be a drawback after all.
Even though Lynd didn’t yet know what impact this dragon egg might have on his future, he already found it troubleso when it ca to rest. Nyria, unwilling to let the egg out of her sight, insisted on keeping it close, even at night, fearing it might be lost.
Though beautiful, the dragon egg was far from comfortable to sleep beside. Its rough, scaly surface made it unpleasant to touch, let alone rest against.
The next morning, Lynd firmly told Nyria to put the egg in a trunk or he would find another tent to sleep in.
Recognizing that she might have been overzealous, Nyria didn’t resist his request. She emptied the chest she used for her armor, lined it with a soft quilt, and ensured the egg wouldn’t shift or get knocked around before carefully placing it inside.
But as soon as the egg was stored, Asha dragged Brienne into Lynd’s tent, eager to see it.
Nyria had learned from Lynd the previous night that Asha and Brienne had also visited the ruins. Though they hadn’t encountered the sa things Lynd had, they’d witnessed him acquiring the dragon egg. Nyria didn’t mind this; Lynd had already asked them not to tell anyone, and they had agreed.
After dismissing her maid and posting guards outside the tent, Nyria retrieved the dragon egg to show Asha and Brienne.
As the three admired the egg, Lynd set off again for the ruins of Sumrhall. His initial reason for coming wasn’t to solve the mystery of the ghostly curse but to assess whether the location was suitable for building a castle.
This ti, he brought along the Master Mason who had constructed the Blackwater Rush Fortress. Though not a professional architect, the mason was experienced enough to judge whether the site was fit for a castle.
During the day, the ruins of Sumrhall were much quieter than they had been the night before. It seed as though the vengeful spirits here needed rest, and nothing unusual occurred.
Glory, which had spent the night outside, joined Lynd at the ruins. However, its spirit seed subdued. It wasn’t because of exhaustion from staying outside but because it had refrained all night from devouring the energy of the vengeful spirits, leaving it drained.
Lynd stroked Glory’s head apologetically and told it to hold back for a few more days. Once he finished studying the illusions created by the energy of the vengeful spirits, he would let it consu the energy as it pleased.
“My lord, I have explored!” The master mason, leading his apprentice and Lynd, walked around both the interior and exterior of Sumrhall. Afterward, he produced so intricate asuring equipnt and took detailed asurents of the surrounding hill terrain before returning to Lynd.
“From the look on your face, I can tell this is not good news,” Lynd remarked, noticing the mason’s furrowed brow.
“Yes, it is not good news,” the mason confird with a nod, gesturing toward the surrounding hills. “The terrain here is entirely unsuitable for building a castle or fortress. The layout would render any defenses ineffective. Additionally, there are several mountain streams in this area. While each stream’s flow is minor on its own, their combined water volu is substantial. If soone were to build a castle here and block the valley's exit by pooling all the upstream water sources, the entire structure would be flooded.”
The builder of a castle is always the one most familiar with its vulnerabilities, and Lynd had no illusions—he was no match for the mason’s expertise.
“However,” the mason continued, “this area is quite suitable for a palace or a villa. The natural environnt is stunning, and the terrain would ensure a pleasant sumr climate. I imagine the royal architect of the Targaryen family also valued this setting when constructing the sumr palace here.” He added thoughtfully, “I still recomnd building a villa. The foundation of the original sumr palace remains usable, which would significantly reduce both material needs and costs.”
Lynd shook his head. A villa wasn’t what he had in mind.
In a quieter tone, he asked, “If you had to pick a suitable place to build a castle in this area, where would it be?”
The stonemason pondered for a mont, surveying the surroundings before pointing in a specific direction. “If it must be a castle, that spot would be the most suitable.”
Lynd followed the mason’s gesture and saw a rocky outcrop resembling a smaller version of Casterly Rock. While the famous rock of Casterly Rock rose hundreds of ters, this one stood no taller than 200 ters. It was steeper, too, with almost no gentle slopes leading to the summit. From afar, it looked like a massive stone pillar, lacking even the partial gentler incline Casterly Rock had.
“How can a castle be built there?” Lynd asked, doubt etched into his voice as he gestured at the pillar-like mountain.
“I know of a Maester Thorne in Oldtown who specializes in carving castles into mountain faces. Ten years ago, Lord Tywin commissioned him to carve a new stone castle beside the old one at Casterly Rock, and he was the architect behind it,” the mason explained. “However, before the project was completed, he offended Lord Tywin sohow, lost his tongue, and was sent back to the Citadel.”
Lynd frowned. “If I were to find him now, do you think he’d still agree to help build a castle?”
“For most people, it would be difficult,” the mason admitted. “But for you? It shouldn’t be a problem. He’s a devout worshiper of the Seven Gods, and as the Chosen One of the Seven, he wouldn’t refuse your request. Furthermore, the only reason Lord Tywin spared his life back then was that the Septon of the Sept of the Seven in Lannisport interceded for him. You have a good relationship with the Septon, so if he writes to Maester Thorne, things would proceed even more smoothly.”
Lynd nodded, though he eyed the mason with so suspicion. “How does a stonemason like you know so much?”
The mason answered candidly, “I worked on the new stone castle at Casterly Rock in its early stages. Maester Thorne taught much—he was like a ntor to . With his talents, he shouldn’t be idle at the Citadel. He ought to be like Brandon the Builder, creating magnificent structures to be rembered by history.”
It was clear to Lynd that the mason held Maester Thorne in great admiration, which explained why he was so eager to recomnd him.
“Earlier, when you said this area isn’t suitable for a castle,” Lynd asked, narrowing his eyes, “did you truly an it, or were you simply trying to draw my attention to Maester Thorne?”
The mason quickly replied, “My lord, I would never lie about sothing like this. Ask any skilled stonemason, and they’d tell you the sa: this land is unsuitable for a castle.”
Lynd studied the mason’s face and found no hint of deception. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll think about your suggestion.”
With that, he led his n toward the base of the columnar rock mountain the mason had pointed out and began examining the terrain. Just as the mason had described, it was an ideal location for a castle—not on the mountain’s summit, but around its base. A fortress could be constructed encircling the mountain, with the main keep built atop the towering rock.
Later, Lynd sent Glory to scale the mountain and inspect its summit. To his surprise, Glory discovered a fresh water spring at the top, adding yet another advantage to the location for Lynd’s planned city.
After marking the site on his map, Lynd returned to the camp and imdiately drafted two letters: one addressed to the Citadel, formally requesting Maester Thorne as his advisor, and the other a personal invitation to Maester Thorne himself. He handed the letters to Jon and instructed him to deliver them to Oldtown.
That afternoon, Lynd intended to take Nyria on a walk around the area. However, his plans were interrupted when a group of uninvited guests arrived at the camp.
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