Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The cylindrical hall had four black stone pillars standing in each direction, each as thick as an embrace. Behind each pillar was a small wooden door. In the center stood a half-meter-high low circular platform, with a two-meter-tall twisted black crystal inserted at its core.

That was all.

No statues, no altars, no incense, not even a central mural.

Jenny frowned, glanced at Dany, and sighed, "You really know nothing. The Valyrian Dragonlords are the children of the sky, residing high atop the Sky Towers. Many of them never set foot on the ground their entire lives.

So, do you understand now?

In Valyria, the highest floor of the tower is considered the main hall. If I had a dragon, I would have taken you directly to the tower's top."

Too bad you don't have a dragon—an impoverished Valyrian noble without a dragon, daring to mock the world's only female Dragonlord!

Dany gave her a fawning smile and asked, "What about the High Priest's inheritance?"

The High Priest's expression turned serious. "Aren't you going to pay respects to the Ancestor God?"

"Your Excellency, High Priest, my mind is filled with the wonders of Valyrian sorcery right now. I can't calm myself, and under such circumstances, worshiping His Majesty Balerion would be too insincere," Dany sighed.

A flicker of dissatisfaction crossed Jenny's eyes, but she suppressed her temper and pointed to the wooden door on the south side of the hall. "Go through that door. I can't guarantee what you'll receive—it entirely depends on your bloodline."

The Black Tower of the Sanctum leaned heavily to the south, forming a small slope. Dany took a few steps downward, placing her hand on the black stone pillar in front of the wooden door. "May I enter?"

"You may." Jenny nodded slowly.

When Dany looked up, she noticed that the surface of the pillar she was holding was carved with war scenes. Countless giant dragons covered the sky, while a massive turtle floated amid towering waves. Compared to the waves, the cities below were like children's block toys.

She paused, circling the pillar. "Is this the war of conquest against the Rhoynar from two thousand years ago?"

"Correct." Jenny approached her, pointing at the largest dragon among the flock. "Look, the Dragon Horn!"

Admittedly, the artistic value of this stone carving was extremely high. It vividly captured the brutal atmosphere of the battlefield, with meticulous attention to detail.

Even the small horn hanging from the waist of the "tiny" Dragonlord atop the dragon was visible!

The enormous dragon was only the size of a palm, while the Dragonlord riding it was as slender as the clipped fingernail of a man's little finger. The curved horn was no longer than the Dragonlord's forearm.

Such craftsmanship...

"Huh? The Dragon Horn is this small?" Dany asked in confusion. "The 'Binder of Dragons' is taller than I am—could it be that the 'Dragon Horn' isn't made from dragon horn?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps the size of the dragon horn isn't the decisive factor."

Nonsense. The older the dragon, the larger its body, and naturally, its horns would grow as well. The soul pressure of the King of Dragons would also be stronger.

Dany couldn't help but look down on Jenny a bit—she didn't even know that dragon souls were sealed within the Dragon Horn.

Behind the pillar was a wooden door, seemingly made of ebony, with a symbol that looked familiar to Dany: a white clockwise spiral vortex.

"What's this symbol?"

"The foundation of sorcery—the external manifestation of the Soul Lake."

Dany's small face scrunched up. "Can you be more specific? I don't understand a single theory of sorcery."

Thud, thud, thud.

Jenny Belerys stomped her foot. "You must lay a foundation before building a house. The sturdiness of the foundation determines the height of the tower.

Look at this Black Tower—half of its body is suspended in the air, leaning so steeply toward the sea, yet it remains stable and unyielding.

The cultivation process of extraordinary sorcerers is like building a house—they must first lay a solid 'foundation'—the Basic Meditation Technique."

Ugh, couldn't you just say 'Meditation Technique' directly?

All this convoluted nonsense is making my head spin.

Dany grumbled inwardly, but her face showed a sincere, attentive expression.

"If you have the talent to become a sorcerer, you will surely open the Sea of Consciousness, or what is called the 'Soul Lake'—the origin of the soul and the root of mental power, resembling a shimmering lake filled with starlight."

Sorry, I don't have a Soul Lake—mine is a boundless ocean!

Dany's eyes revealed a look of reverence, and she respectfully said, "I see. Your explanation has enlightened me, High Priest!"

Jenny, only a few years older than Dany, became a little smug after a few compliments from the Mother of Dragons. She continued, "The Basic Meditation Technique isn't the power to create miracles. It primarily gathers the scattered mental forces within your Soul Lake into one unified stream, much like how the power of a punch comes from countless small..."

The High Priestess hesitated, and the old priest beside her whispered, "Genes."

"Yes, genes. Our bodies may seem whole, but they're actually composed of countless tiny genes. The process of exerting force relies entirely on the cooperation of these countless genes.

Sorcery is a 'punch' on the mental plane. The Basic Meditation Technique helps you gather scattered mental 'genes' into a unified whole."

Seeing Dany's eyes nearly bulging out, Jenny sighed with a superior air, waving her hand. "Ah, it's fine if you don't understand. The world is full of ignorance—one doesn't need to grasp the principles of genes to become a master swordsman."

Dany snapped out of her shock and asked, "High Priest, may I ask how you discovered cells—no, genes? How did you discover genes?"

MMP, do you really have to be this awesome? Even the cells know about it now?

"Sigh, you keep asking more and more questions. How am I supposed to explain the principles of light to you? You've probably never even seen a lens, have you?"

Dany couldn't hold back anymore. Was she really pushing her luck like this?

"Is this what you're talking about?" She pointed at the binoculars hanging around Barristan's neck.

"Uh..." Jeyne Belerys's arrogant expression faltered for a moment before she stiffly nodded and said, "Myr's glassworks and Qohor's steelworks all use Valyrian technology.

Navigational telescopes and large astronomical lenses were also our inventions.

Sigh, using similar principles, we even crafted sorcerer's lenses to observe human organs. The smallest organ discovered through them was called a 'gene.'"

"So it's the sorcerer's lens!" Barristan exclaimed in shock.

"You know about sorcerer's lenses?" Dany looked at him curiously.

Barristan spoke slowly, "The Citadel has been conducting human experiments and has long sought to create the legendary sorcerer's lens. The archmaesters have repeatedly petitioned King Aerys to increase investment in the Citadel and reduce import tariffs on Myrish lenses—they need a large supply of glass and lenses."

"The Citadel of the Sunset Lands? Ha! Those Andal scholars are merely imitating our Council of Sorcerers," an elderly priest scoffed.

Barristan's face flushed red, but he had no words to refute him.

Dany's gaze grew distant, and she murmured, "How magnificent must Valyria's civilization have been?"

"I wonder the same," the young High Priestess said with a bitter smile.

"Come on, let's go inside. After learning meditation, you will construct a sorcerer's rune in the Lake of Souls. It looks like this." She traced the white spiral symbol painted on the mahogany door and urged Dany forward.

Beyond the door lay a dimly lit, 20-square-meter stone chamber. A dark red glow filtered through a three-meter-high skylight, casting eerie shadows. At the center of the empty cyan stone floor stood a single, slender, twisted obsidian candle.

"Just a single glass candle?" Dany turned back to the young priestess.

"Glass candles are the most efficient conduits for mystical energy. Eighty percent of all sorcery can be performed using them."

"What about the blue magic orbs atop sorcerers' towers?" Dany asked, puzzled.

Jeyne's expression flickered with surprise. "You know about magic orbs?"

"My second brother, Viserys, told me. He said great sorcerers can use magic orbs the size of houses to govern the entire world."

Once again, her second brother served as a convenient shield.

"Magic orbs are merely an advanced form of glass candles—like the difference between a torch and a candle."

"Uh..."

Wasn't sorcery a bit too simplistic?

"What do I need to do?" she asked again.

"Light the glass candle. In the flames, you will find the knowledge you seek."

Barristan commented strangely, "On the eve of taking their vows, every Citadel acolyte must keep vigil in the cellar with only a single obsidian candle. If they can light it, they may leave early.

But it's said that no one has ever succeeded.

Grand Maester Pycelle claims this tradition serves as a reminder to new maesters that, no matter how much knowledge they acquire, they are not omnipotent."

"Hah! The strength of a leader determines the limits of their organization. That Grand Maester Pycelle must be a complete fool," an elderly silver-haired priest sneered.

"Why do you say that?" the White Knight asked, confused.

"Because all four glass candles in the Citadel came from Valyria. A thousand years ago, an archmaester exchanged fifty years of service for four basic meditation techniques.

Their ancestors paid a great price to obtain truth from us, yet their descendants treat it as a joke. How ridiculous." The elder's voice was laced with contempt.

"So, the final test for a maester is actually meant to assess their potential for sorcery?" Dany mused.

Perhaps this test had once been meaningful, but for the past century, the world had been in an age of dwindling magic. No one had been able to light a candle, which was why the tradition had become a mere formality.

She turned to the young priestess and asked, "High Priestess, do you know about the tides of magic? An Ashai'i sorcerer once told me that dragons bring magic to this world."

The question seemed to trouble the young priestess. She hesitated before glancing toward the silver-haired elder who had mocked the Citadel earlier.

The old priest pondered for a moment before answering, "That statement isn't entirely wrong. Dragons represent the upper limits of the world's power. The vast energy gap between dragons and mortals is where mystics thrive.

But dragons are not the only factor. There are also gods. Gods can elevate the energy threshold of living beings in this world.

Thus, in lands where divine power is strong, magical energies are also active enough to give rise to sorcerers."

"If true gods exist, then why was there a hundred-year-long age of dwindling magic?"

"Gods do not belong to the mortal world. They are too far removed from reality and can only influence small pockets of land—like Asshai in the Shadowlands! But dragons exist in the mortal realm, in the real world."

Having said his piece, the old priest didn't wait to see if Dany understood. Growing impatient, he urged, "Hurry inside! You've already delayed our afternoon prayers, and we still have evening rites to perform."

"Oh, sorry. But what exactly should I do?"

"Focus your mind on the tip of the candle—or simply stare at it. You have the entire night."

Once the door to the chamber shut, Jeyne the High Priestess led the other elderly priests upstairs for evening prayers, leaving only the White Knight standing guard outside.

(End of Chapter)

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