[-9500 EXP]
[Class Level Increased: 9 → 10 (MAX)]
Aegon's breath hitched slightly.
He leaned back again and closed his eyes, his focus settling fully on the new knowledge and memories. At the same time, a faint warmth appeared along his wrists, spread into his palms, and reached his fingers.
A moment passed.
Aegon opened his eyes.
A smile appeared on his face.
The class [Botanist (Tier 2)] had now been leveled to max.
He let out a breath.
Done.
He had not created the Botanist class because he had suddenly grown interested in plants.
Plants were useful, of course. Medicines, poisons, fibers, oils, resins, food, dyes. Half the world depended on them in one form or another.
But that was not the real reason.
The real reason was what plants could become after magic bonded to them.
Magical ingredients.
And magical ingredients opened the path to something far more valuable.
Potions.
Magical potions.
The Botanist class would serve as the prerequisite for a Tier 3 class. As for what that class would be, it was easy enough to understand.
A potion-based class.
All of Aegon's Tier 3 classes were based on magic and spirituality. From the memories and knowledge received through upgrading them, he had caught hints of what an actual potion would be.
A magical potion, or simply a potion, could only be created by using magical ingredients.
It was not the same as a spell.
A spell was built from arrangements of runes. Structure, arrangement, activation. The spell model produced the effect.
A potion worked differently.
A potion relied on the magical effects already present in its ingredients.
In simple words, one could not create a potion by taking a cup of liquid and forcefully binding a spell or rune to it. That might produce a liquid with a magical effect, but it would not be a true potion.
A true potion required ingredients that already had magic bonded to them, either naturally or artificially. Those ingredients had to be brewed together through a specific process and in careful proportions.
The ingredients decided the foundation.
The brewing method decided the result.
That was why the process mattered so much.
Potions were complex magical creations. The magic flow inside the final result would not be simple like fire, water, air, or stone. It would be layered. Twisted. Changed by the brewing process.
Almost impossible to use for rune deduction.
But that same complexity was also what made potions useful.
Since potions were created through brewing, or by using the concept of 'cooking', they could be 'eaten' or drunk by living creatures. During the brewing process, the magic flows present in the ingredients would clash, combine, destroy, or merge with each other, forming a 'natural' coalescence.
A coalescence with a desired effect.
A potion.
A successful potion had magical flows that were purified in a way and became completely natural. Natural enough that, when drunk by a creature, the potion's effects would not conflict with the creature's biology, but be digested by it.
Like a 'cooked' food.
Aegon's fingers tapped once against the arm of the chair.
Of course, not all potions could be suitable for everyone.
For example, potions for creatures with magic and creatures without magic had to be different.
A potion made for an ordinary man might not suit a dragon. Or a dragonrider. Or anyone with magic within his body.
Existing magic could interfere with the magical effect of a potion made for creatures without any magic.
It could twist it. Make it dangerous.
That was the real value of the work in the Cursed Murk.
To prepare for this class, Aegon had already bonded magic artificially to certain plants and left them in Tanesha's care. The goal had been simple: create magical versions of ordinary plants and study what they became.
He had been careful.
Very, very careful.
There were few things more idiotic than accidentally creating a magical fungus that could infect everyone and bring about the end of the world.
Several plants had failed and died. Some withered. Some grew soft, their stems collapsing under their own weight. Some changed in useless or unstable ways and had to be discarded.
But a few survived.
A few became magical versions of their previous selves.
Some were ideal.
Others were not.
The useless magical plants, of course, had to be discarded again. All in all, it had been a cumbersome process, and the main project he had been carrying out in the Cursed Murk for the past few months.
Still, the foundation was there.
Magical ingredients.
Botanical knowledge.
Careful handling.
The rest would come from the future potion-based Tier 3 class.
After all, there were still many intricacies involved in the subject of potions. Ingredient compatibility. Brewing sequence. Dose. Body type. Resistance. Side effects. And more.
A few days later.
"...commodities and bodies both," Rhaenys said.
Her voice was low, but there was no mistaking the anger in it.
She walked between Aegon and Gael along the worn stone path that curved down toward the pier. Her grey-and-light-blue gown brushed against the dust at her hem, and the wind tugged loose strands of silver hair across her cheek.
To their left, the sea glittered under the daylight.
"That is what they call tax now," Rhaenys continued. "Coin, cargo, and men if the ship looks weak enough."
Aegon's brow furrowed.
Gael walked close beside him, her green-and-yellow dress bright against the grey stone. The brightness did not match her expression.
"And if the captain refuses to pay this Triarchy tax?" she asked.
Rhaenys's mouth tightened.
"Then he risks his vessel being boarded or burned."
For a moment, only the wind answered.
Little Laena trotted beside her mother, one small hand curled tightly in the folds of Rhaenys's skirt. She was no taller than Rhaenys's hip, with wide dark eyes that kept moving between the adults as though she could catch meaning from their faces if not from their words.
"Mother," Laena said, tugging gently. "What is a tax?"
Rhaenys looked down.
The sternness in her face softened. She placed a hand over Laena's head and smoothed back her hair.
"Something you need not worry about yet."
Laena frowned, clearly unsatisfied by the answer.
Aegon smiled faintly.
Behind them, a few servants followed in a loose group. One carried a small chest with both hands. Another held a wicker basket wrapped carefully in oilcloth. Their steps were quiet, almost lost beneath the gulls and the steady rush of water against stone.
The path opened onto the pier.
The ship that had brought Aegon and Gael to Driftmark bobbed gently against the wooden pilings. Its ropes had already been loosened and coiled. Men moved across the deck, checking lines, securing cargo, and calling short instructions to one another.
Aegon stopped near the edge of the pier and turned to Rhaenys.
Gael stepped beside him.
Rhaenys took Gael's hands first and squeezed them.
"You will visit sooner this time," she said.
Gael smiled. "We will. I promise."
"You said that last time."
"This time I mean it more."
Rhaenys gave a small laugh and released her hands.
Then she turned to Aegon.
He offered her a shallow nod, smiling. "Thank you for hosting us."
"You say that as if you are strangers." Rhaenys shook her head. "You are family. Come more often, and I will stop needing to remind you."
"I will try."
"You will do more than try."
Aegon's smile widened as he nodded.
Gael glanced around the pier, her eyes moving over the crewmen, the servants, the waiting guards.
Then her expression turned curious.
"I have not seen Laenor since morning. Is he unwell?"
Rhaenys waved a hand lightly, her mouth curving.
"No. Corlys took him somewhere. The shipyards, I imagine." She glanced toward the far side of the harbor. "That man would rather let his boy sleep among timbers and tar, Seven forbid."
Aegon chuckled softly.
His gaze drifted toward the far end of the pier, where two crewmen were lifting a heavy wooden crate onto the deck. A third man followed with a leather satchel held carefully against his side.
Rhaenys noticed the look and followed his eyes.
"Gifts," she said. "For grandmother and mother."
She tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"Tell them I am well. And that I will write when I can."
Aegon nodded. "I will deliver them myself."
"Good."
The gangplank shifted slightly beneath the weight of a sailor crossing it. One of the men at the ropes looked toward Aegon and waited.
It was time.
Aegon offered his hand to Gael.
She took it and climbed first, gathering her skirts carefully as she stepped up the gangplank. Once aboard, she turned at once and leaned over the rail.
Rhaenys lifted Laena onto her hip.
The little girl's arm began waving wildly.
"Bye!" Laena called.
Gael laughed and waved back. "Goodbye, Laena!"
Aegon stepped up beside Gael, one hand resting on the rail. He lifted the other briefly in farewell.
Below, Rhaenys stood straight in the wind, Laena balanced against her side, her gown moving around her ankles.
The ropes were cast off.
The sail caught the wind with a soft crack.
Slowly, the ship drew away from the pier.
The water widened between hull and shore, and Driftmark began to pull back into the glittering distance.
Aegon stood by the rail, watching the waves break against the hull. Dragonstone lay ahead, still distant. The ship had left Driftmark behind some time ago.
Gael came to stand beside him.
Her hand slipped into his.
Aegon smiled as their eyes met. Then his gaze dropped to the amber pendant at her chest.
Gael noticed and followed his eyes.
"Rhaenys was jealous of it," she said.
Aegon raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"
Gael smiled. "You gave a bracelet to Maegelle, this to me, and a ring to Grandmother. But nothing for Rhaenys."
Aegon paused.
Then he gave a small, wry smile. "Ah. I will have to give her one when we visit next time."
Gael smirked. "Definitely."
For a moment, they stood quietly with the sea wind around them.
Then Gael said, "Aemma wrote to me. Her family is in King's Landing."
Aegon looked at her. "And?"
"Should we visit them too?"
Aegon chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Not even back from one visit, and already ready for another?"
Gael smiled mischievously.
"Always."
Meanwhile, back on Driftmark
Rhaenys walked down a quiet corridor of the castle.
Here, the stone walls held the silence close. A single guard stood before a heavy door at the end of the passage.
He straightened when he saw her.
"My lady."
Rhaenys gave a small nod.
The guard bowed and opened the door.
Inside was a large hall.
But it did not feel open.
There were no windows. No balcony. No bright sea wind moving through the room. Only stone walls, a high ceiling, and one door. The air was warm and still, touched faintly by the smell of smoke and something sharper beneath it.
Corlys stood near the center of the hall with his back to her.
He did not turn when she entered.
Rhaenys walked toward him, her steps soft against the stone floor.
"You could have at least said goodbye to them," she said.
Corlys gave her a quick glance and smiled faintly.
"Goodbyes can wait," he said. "This cannot."
His attention returned ahead.
Rhaenys sighed slightly and followed his gaze.
Laenor sat on the floor in front of them, small and still, his little hands resting on his knees. Two guards stood on either side of him, close enough to move in an instant.
And before the boy crouched a creature.
Small.
Silver-grey.
Its wings were folded awkwardly against its body, too large for its young frame. Pale smoke curled from its nostrils as it lowered its head and made a soft, curious sound.
Laenor stared at it with wide eyes as it chirped again.
A tiny, almost pleased noise.
A baby dragon.
***
📜 Milestones:
150 Power Stones → +1 Chapter ✅
***
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