Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 435: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters III

“Your Grace, this passage leads outside the city of Tyria. Their leader, On, is likely heading toward the Doom Ruins,” Boryas informed Viserys, his tone measured yet firm.

The statement stirred Viserys’s thoughts. If On was indeed headed to the Doom Ruins, it suggested there were other inhabitants there—perhaps even a thriving population. Tyria itself housed nearly 150,000 people, so the Doom Ruins might support an even larger number.

If possible, Viserys preferred to seek a path of negotiation or trade with the inhabitants of the Doom Ruins. After all, before arriving here, Dragonbone had been left abandoned in vast quantities outside the ruins, signaling its lack of utility to the locals.

“What’s the quantity of Dragonbones here?” Viserys asked, his focus sharp.

Young Connington stepped forward, providing a detailed report. “Your Grace, the Tyrians used most of the Dragonbones to reinforce their dungeon. In our search, we uncovered over 700 giant dragon skulls. Fourteen of these were more than 10 meters long, 88 measured between 7 and 10 meters, and—”

The sheer scale of the discovery made Viserys pause. A dragon with a skull measuring 10 meters likely had a body over 100 meters long—fourteen dragons the size of Balerion the Black Dread.

Valyria’s history spanned 5,000 years, with over 1,000 dragons at its peak. It wasn’t unthinkable to unearth tens of thousands of dragon skeletons, especially with more than 700 satellite cities like Tyria. The Doom Ruins undoubtedly held even more.

“What kind of crops can grow without sunlight?” Viserys shifted his focus to the critical issue of food supply.

Boryas handed him a plate of peculiar, purple, mushroom-like produce. “Your Grace, this is what has sustained Tyria for centuries—purple flesh.”

Viserys broke off a piece and tasted it. Its texture was both chewy and crisp, akin to konjac, with a flavor blending the essence of meat and vegetables. Surprisingly, it was quite palatable.

After swallowing the first bite, he sampled another before speaking decisively to Young Connington. “Send back seeds of this purple flesh along with people skilled in its cultivation. Also, transport all the Dragonbones.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Young Connington replied with utmost respect.

Having served Viserys for years, Young Connington thought he had grasped the extent of his king’s abilities. Yet time and again, Viserys shattered those perceptions.

When Young Connington had led the charge into Tyria, he never expected Boryas to surrender so abruptly. Initially, he doubted it, but seeing Boryas approach with raised hands left no room for misinterpretation.

What unnerved him most, however, was Viserys’s ability to seemingly plant an ally here long before their arrival. Young Connington was certain no one had prior knowledge of Tyria’s existence, let alone contact with its people. Yet here was Boryas, pledging loyalty as if orchestrated by some unseen force.

Suppressing his bewilderment, Young Connington continued his report on the battle’s spoils.

There was an abundance of gold, red gold, and silver—plunder that hardly needed elaboration. According to established regulations, half of all gains went to the “court,” with the royal family receiving the remainder. The rest was divided equally among the army, individual soldiers, and organizations involved in the campaign. Even so, the sheer scale of the wealth left the Volantene soldiers ecstatic.

It was no surprise for a Valyrian satellite city to hold such treasures.

Beyond the wealth, the expedition had recovered a trove of books. Although much of Tyria’s library was destroyed, enough manuscripts survived to make the find significant. Among these were numerous texts on magic, which were immediately sealed for safety.

More concerning was the discovery of a genetic modification laboratory. Its contents were deemed too dangerous to handle without Viserys’s direct oversight.

Accompanied by Melisandre, Malora, and Young Connington, Viserys made his way to the laboratory.

Viserys had always harbored a nagging question: why hadn’t the Tyrians moved to the surface to live?

Boryas, fortunately, provided an answer. He explained that around seventy or eighty years after the Doom, the Tyrians gradually relocated to their underground city. The reason was simple yet peculiar—the light above ground became increasingly unbearable for them.

Given the Tyrians’ ability to mass-produce “yin-yang two-headed people,” Viserys tentatively attributed this aversion to sunlight to genetic modifications. In Tyria, one in every thousand children was born as a yin-yang two-headed individual, a trait that strongly hinted at deliberate genetic tampering.

The Tyrians seemed to share similarities with the Valyrians and Dragonlord families, who had also undergone extensive group modifications in the past.

This realization made Viserys wary of the Tyrians. Their genetic foundation was deeply flawed, perhaps even dangerous, and this caution extended to their legacy.

The biological laboratory in Tyria resembled a massive warehouse rather than a conventional lab. Its entrance was guarded by a "palmprint lock," a device unfamiliar to Viserys. Boryas placed his hand on the scanner, and a ripple of green light spread outward from his palm.

The massive metal door lifted slowly, almost eerily silent as it opened. Bright light poured out from within, confirming the interior was heavily illuminated.

The group entered cautiously, only to freeze in stunned silence at the sight before them.

The laboratory was enormous, as spacious as a grand theater, with rows upon rows of transparent glass jars, each large enough to hold a person. The jars were arranged with exact precision, creating an unsettlingly ordered scene.

Viserys stepped closer to inspect the contents.

Inside most jars were humanoid figures—naked and eerily lifelike. Yet each displayed features that set them apart from ordinary humans. Some had dragon wings sprouting from their backs, others were covered in patches of shimmering scales.

At first, Viserys assumed they were “abnormal fetuses,” perhaps part of an experiment to cultivate magically gifted beings. But something about them felt... off. He soon noticed the web of purple veins coursing visibly through their necks, groins, and armpits, hinting at something far more sinister.

And it wasn’t just humans in the jars.

In other containers, they found creatures of varying shapes and sizes. Dragons floated in suspended animation, alongside Firewyrms, lizards with grotesquely elongated legs, and even horses with gills and scales.

The audacity of the Dragonlords was unmistakable. In their hubris, they had seemingly attempted to rewrite nature itself, acting as if they were the creators of the world.

Viserys pondered the technological prowess necessary for such feats and whether it was even possible with what Valyria possessed in its prime.

Ultimately, he decided these experiments were too dangerous to preserve. Most of the jars would need to be destroyed, though a few samples and experimental notes might prove valuable for study in safer hands.

The laboratory also housed an array of genetically modified plants, some resembling the "purple flesh" crop that sustained the Tyrians. While they appeared edible, Viserys saw no immediate need to take such risks.

After nearly an hour of observation and deliberation, the group prepared to leave the lab.

But just as they turned to depart, a sudden, sharp sound echoed through the space.

Crack.

All at once, the glass jars shattered, sending shards flying in every direction.

The creatures inside—formed and unformed embryos, grotesque lumps of pink and white flesh—spilled out onto the floor.

Then they began to writhe.

The sight of these malformed creatures squirming and twitching against the sterile lab floor sent waves of dread through everyone present. Even Viserys, who had witnessed many horrors in his life, felt an icy chill creeping up his spine.