There were too many logs and stones; every time Daeron swung his tools, it drained his stamina.
Before long, his arms felt sore and swollen.
Fortunately, the cleared space was already sufficient.
"Reality isn't a game; I can't work on an empty stomach. I should plant some crops to fill my belly first."
Daeron admitted he didn't have the iron stomach of a pixelated character, so he honestly picked some economical seeds.
His starting capital was only 500 gold dragons.
Considering the sacrifice requirements, he had to be cautious.
"The so-called sacrifice involves collecting several specific crops from each season, covering all five categories: farming, foraging, mining, fishing, and combat."
One parsnip seed: matures in four days, single harvest.
One green bean seed: matures in ten days, repeated harvest every three days after maturity.
Two cauliflower seeds: mature in twelve days, single harvest.
Five potato seeds: mature in six days, single harvest, with a chance for multiple yields.
A total of 490 gold was spent, leaving only 10 gold dragons in savings.
The crops grown from these four types of seeds corresponded exactly to the Spring Farming Sacrifice.
The extra cauliflower was a precaution against potential quest requests from the panel; potatoes were the main staple for eating and selling.
He used his hoe to till a 3x3 square plot, planted the nine seeds, and irrigated them one by one with a watering can.
Even without farming experience, Daeron knew that vegetables needed spacing.
Each plot of land was 0.5 square meters; a 3x3 plot was only 2.25 square meters.
"Mission accomplished."
Daeron's lips curled up as he straightened his back and massaged his arms.
Provided they were irrigated daily, there would be a bumper harvest in 12 days at the latest.
He would keep some and sell some to exchange for funds; they could even be sold at high prices in King's Landing.
However, once the farm was created, external currency was not allowed as a substitute.
Gold coins were gold coins, and they could only be used on the farm.
The gold dragons earned were gold dragons; what was sold outside was spent outside.
The 500 starting capital could be considered a newcomer's benefit.
"The number of seeds doesn't exceed 15, so it won't attract crows. I can sleep peacefully."
Daeron looked up; the sky had already grown dim.
His body was exhausted, and he wanted to sit on the sofa by the fire soon.
Just as he was about to return to the cabin, Daeron paused, suddenly realizing: "Oops, I forgot about Ser Jon."
He hurriedly left the farm to find him.
He had ordered the other man to take the horses to the river for water and survey the surrounding terrain. Hours had passed in the blink of an eye; why was there no sign of him?
Stepping out of the farm, he walked along the dirt path.
Only then did Daeron see that the dirt path also had a fence along the forest side, ending halfway up the mountain.
At this moment, a fire light flickered at the foot of the mountain under the twilight.
Ser Jon sat on a bluestone. With his helmet removed, his face looked slightly dejected, as if he were frustrated for some reason.
Three horses were tied to a nearby oak trunk.
Daeron stepped out slowly, feigning confusion. "Ser Jon, couldn't you find me?"
"Prince...!"
The sun gradually set.
From Ser Jon's account, he had followed orders and even scouted the beach five kilometers away, but upon returning, he suddenly found he couldn't locate anyone.
He had seen the dirt path and walked up it, only to find himself back where he started, unable to climb the mountain.
After a moment of contemplation, Daeron roughly understood the reason.
Dragon Language Farm was protected by a mysterious power; anyone without his invitation or approval could not enter.
This suited Daeron's wishes perfectly, preventing unauthorized entry into the farm.
"In that case, I won't disturb you further."
Daeron stood up and took the bundles from the horse's back, distributing the pre-prepared leather tent, blankets, and dry rations.
When one is weak, one must know how to protect oneself.
He did not intend to invite Ser Jon in.
Ser Jon wanted to refuse, wishing to protect the Prince at close range, but seeing the generous supplies, he was speechless.
A sense of distance is an indispensable part of interpersonal relationships.
The Prince had his own secrets and explicitly refused his company.
"Please stay safe."
Ser Jon sighed and could only accept.
Daeron then returned.
Having observed Tywin's conduct for years, he had privately summarized some experience.
When you want to accomplish something, you must be fully prepared; when you ask someone else to accomplish something, you must provide what they lack and block their retreat.
The tents and other items prepared before leaving the city were for this very moment... Night fell, the moon was bright, and the stars were sparse.
The light inside the cabin was warm. Daeron leaned over the desk, writing a letter and sealing it with wax.
"It's finished."
Daeron looked up slightly, gazing outside through the window by the door.
The letter was to be sent to Dragonstone, to his eldest brother, Rhaegar.
There were no polite pleasantries, just two concise demands.
It essentially read: "I, Daeron Targaryen, want dragon eggs!!"
The signature: I know you are on Dragonstone, don't fail to reply.
"I hope for a response; don't be so emotionally detached."
Daeron rubbed his brows as he recalled his previous letters.
Who would have thought that the magnificent Prince Rhaegar would be so cold toward his family?
But Daeron was persistent.
According to the tradition of the Targaryen Family, for every newborn, a dragon egg was to be placed in their cradle.
If a young dragon hatched, it would be the newborn's companion dragon.
It didn't matter if it didn't hatch.
After all, dragons had been extinct for over a hundred and fifty years, and successive kings had tried various methods without success.
But at that time, a newborn could at least be allocated a dragon egg.
Today, this tradition exists in name only.
The problem arose 21 years ago when his great-grandfather, Aegon V, took the last seven dragon eggs belonging to the royal family and, with the help of pyromancers, attempted to hatch them using the high temperatures of wildfire.
It failed!
Summerhall was destroyed by fire. Aegon V himself, his eldest son Prince Duncan 'the Small', the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Duncan 'the Tall', and a large number of royal family members and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms perished in the flames.
History calls it the 'Tragedy at Summerhall'.
It was this very fire that destroyed the family's last remaining dragon eggs.
As a result, when Daeron and his siblings were born, none of them received a dragon egg.
"Are there really none left?" Daeron was unwilling to believe it.
During the height of the Targaryen dynasty's prosperity, the family had more than 10 adult dragons, and half of them were females capable of laying eggs.
A single dragon produced no fewer than five eggs per clutch.
During the Dance of the Dragons, the stock of dragon eggs was at least 30 or more.
Even if fresh dragon eggs lost their Life Force over time and became stone-like dead eggs, some should have remained.
"I don't even require a normal dragon egg; a petrified one will do."
Daeron's thoughts raced.
Taking the 'Mother of Dragons' Daenerys from the original story as an example, she gave life to three petrified dragon eggs through a blood sacrifice, hatching three dragons.
This was a clearly viable path.
After learning about the Tragedy at Summerhall, he boldly speculated that his great-grandfather Aegon V's attempt to hatch eggs with wildfire was also a similar act of blood sacrifice.
However, he shouldn't have used wildfire to hatch them.
wildfire is not a magical creation but more like a chemical product; how could it provide the Life Force needed for a dragon egg to crack open?
"Rhaegar will surely scour Dragonstone without me having to say it."
Daeron knew he would likely be disappointed, but he still wanted to test the waters.
Treating a dead horse as if it were alive, perhaps a dragon egg that had never been discovered was hidden in the Dragonmont... "With the confidence Dragon Language Farm gives me, finding a dragon egg is imperative."
Daeron's deep gaze showed determination: "If Dragonstone doesn't have one, I will search the entire continent."