Sunfyre landed in the middle of the fishing village, kicking up dust and sand.
“Who knows a blacksmith named Hugh?
A bastard.”
“I do, my prince.” An old man stepped forward, trembling.
Aegon tossed him a gold dragon.
“He’s the only Hugh?”
“Yes, my prince.”
“Good.
Tell him to come to the Stone Drum.
Say Prince Aegon summons him.”
Sunfyre launched straight up and vanished from sight.
Back at the Stone Drum, Sunfyre didn’t return to the Dragonmont.
He coiled down in front of the main doors.
“Your Grace.” The guards bowed.
“A blacksmith named Hugh will arrive soon.
Bring him to me.”
“Understood.”
The Stone Drum was Dragonstone’s main keep.
When storms came, the ancient walls rumbled and echoed, which gave the tower its name.
Dragonstone had been built with Valyrian stonework, techniques lost in the Doom, making the castle unlike any other in Westeros.
The fortress was black stone.
Its towers were carved like dragons, and rows of stone gargoyles lined the battlements.
Dragons shaped nearly everything.
Small ones framed the doorways.
Clawed hands held torches.
Massive stone wings housed the smithy and armory.
Dragon tails formed arches, bridges, and outdoor stairs.
Helaena and Aemond had gone to Aegon’s Garden.
Aegon stayed in the Stone Drum and waited.
Because of his rank, and because he’d arrived on dragonback, Hugh was brought before him quickly.
Aegon chose the Chamber of the Painted Table for the meeting.
The round room sat at the top of the Stone Drum, with four tall narrow windows facing north, south, east, and west.
Inside stood a massive wooden table carved with a detailed map of Westeros.
Aegon the Conqueror had used it to plan his campaigns.
The table stretched more than fifty feet long, half as wide at its broadest, and under four feet at its narrowest.
Aegon sat in that chair.
Hugh stood below, uneasy.
He’d been packing at home, preparing to take his pregnant wife to King’s Landing.
He believed his skill as a smith could give her and their unborn child a better life there.
“I heard you can bend iron bars with your bare hands.”
Aegon studied him.
Hugh matched the descriptions in the old stories.
Tall, nearly two meters.
Broad shoulders and a powerful back.
He looked strong.
But the claim about bending iron barehanded had always seemed exaggerated.
Hugh was confused.
He couldn’t imagine why Aegon was asking.
He’d heard merchants and singers praise the young prince, but he’d never had any dealings with a seven-year-old royal.
“An honor to meet you, my prince.
But I’ve never tried to bend an iron bar.”
Hugh answered honestly.
He didn’t boast about his strength.
Aegon narrowed his eyes.
Never tried.
So the question was still open.
Interesting.
“I happened to hear about you from a merchant.
He said you were strong enough to bend iron with your bare hands, and that you were loyal and honest.” Aegon made it up on the spot.
Hugh said nothing.
He only stared, wondering if the boy really had summoned him just to watch him bend iron.
A prince through and through.
Not like him.
He had Targaryen blood too, but he spent every day at the forge.
If he stopped, his family went hungry.
“Forgive me, my prince, but my pregnant wife is waiting at home.
Tell me what you need, and I’ll do everything I can.”
Hugh didn’t know what Aegon wanted.
He could only pray the prince was as kind as the singers claimed.
His wife was six months pregnant.
She and the child couldn’t afford to lose him.
Aegon’s mind was sharp, and he read people easily.
He saw Hugh’s worry at once and smiled.
Worried about his wife.
Good.
Wife pregnant.
Even better.
“Show me your strength.
I’m curious.”
Aegon signaled a guard, who brought an iron bar as thick as a finger.
“Try.
If you can’t do it, no harm.
But understand, this is an opportunity.
Whether your wife ever becomes a lady depends on you.
Don’t waste it.”
Hugh’s head snapped up.
He stared at Aegon in disbelief.
He swallowed, took the bar, and bent it with his bare hands.
Muscles bulged along his arms and back.
The iron curved visibly.
The guard’s eyes twitched.
For a moment, the guard wondered if he could stop this man if he suddenly attacked the prince.
Clang.
The bent bar hit the floor.
Aegon clapped, delighted.
“Good.
Very good.”
“How would you like to serve as my guard?”
“When your child is born, boy or girl, they’ll serve as my squire.”
“Prove yourself, and there’s more.
Land, a castle, a title.
All within reach if you earn them.”