The Bronze King

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Vaelor's violet eyes widened.

A radiant panel hovered in front of him, suspended in the air as if it had always belonged there.

At the center of it were three dull, gray card-shaped silhouettes. Beneath them sat a golden hourglass, bright as molten coin, with a number displayed beside it.

[Essence Panel]

Magic Essence: 3.

The background was a blank white haze, as though he were standing inside a bank of mist.

Empty. Weightless. Utterly unreal.

"Now we're talking!"

Vaelor was so excited he almost shouted. He reached out with one small hand and poked the edge of the glowing panel.

The good days had finally arrived.

The moment his finger touched it, ripples spread through the white haze. The mist swallowed the panel, then cleared into a different screen.

[Vaelor Targaryen]

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Skills: High Valyrian (Mastered), the Common Tongue (Proficient)...

Magic Cards: None

Status: "A severely sleep-deprived human hatchling. Growth is beginning to suffer."

"Oh? It shows changes too?"

Vaelor studied it carefully, paying special attention to the status line.

Then he looked down at himself.

His little arms and hands were pale, soft, and round. He did not look starved.

With a frown, he measured his height from head to foot as best he could.

Apparently, he was a little short.

He was nine by local reckoning, though strictly speaking he had only lived eight full years. He stood a little over three feet tall, and not very far over.

Children his age, especially Vale children with First Men blood in their bones, were usually a full head taller than him.

"So they weren't growing too fast," Vaelor murmured. "I was growing too slowly?"

That explained it.

He had wondered about that. He had Royce blood too, after all.

He stared at the brilliant panel again.

No response.

So it was a silent tool, not a chatty spirit.

It had no name. From now on, he would call it the Essence Panel.

"How do I use you? I refuse to grow into a squat little potato."

An unnecessary new worry rose in him. He poked the status line with one finger.

Nothing happened.

Vaelor fell briefly silent.

Then he gave up on the aloof little status line and turned his attention elsewhere.

After several minutes, he had explored the Essence Panel as thoroughly as he could.

The white screen was an exchange page. It let him inspect his magic essence and the cards available for purchase.

The reverse side was a personal panel, showing his condition in real time.

What he had and what he lacked were both laid bare.

Once he understood the basic rules, Vaelor cradled the black dragon egg in one arm and tapped the exchange page with the other hand.

"Give me a way to sleep properly."

Hatching the dragon egg would not help him tonight. Solving the immediate problem mattered more.

Pop.

Three flashes of different colors swept across the panel. One by one, the three gray card shadows turned faceup.

1. [Guidance: One Use] - "A small opportunity."

The card showed a golden finger pointing in a single direction across a white background.

2. [One-Handed Sword Mastery] - "Beloved by brave knights."

The card was green, with a rusted longsword displayed across its face.

3. [Steadfast as Stone] - "Hardens the skin until it is stone-like."

The card was blue. A gray-white figure stood in a powerful stance, with small +1 markings rising over its head.

The three cards were obviously split into three different grades.

"All good things," Vaelor said, eyes brightening. "But those prices..."

The numbers beneath the cards stopped him cold.

[Essence Panel]

[Guidance: One Use] - Cost: 10 magic essence.

[One-Handed Sword Mastery] - Cost: 60 magic essence.

[Steadfast as Stone] - Cost: 150 magic essence.

Magic Essence: 3.

Each one was more expensive than the last. Vaelor glanced at the number beside the golden hourglass, then silently withdrew his eager little hand.

"No matter. If I don't have enough essence, I'll find more."

He was not giving up. A plan had already begun to form.

According to the panel's rules, he could find objects containing magic, absorb a portion of it, and feed that power into the golden hourglass as magic essence.

Vaelor closed the panel and lifted the black dragon egg in both hands.

The system's earlier prompt had come from the treasure in his arms.

Magic Essence +3.

Dragons were among the greatest magical creatures in the world. A dragon egg capable of producing a hatchling naturally contained a rich store of power.

"At least it won't harm the hatchling's foundation."

Vaelor set the egg carefully back into its heated vessel and patted his chest in relief.

The absorption had limits.

Unless he deliberately drained something dry, the Essence Panel would only draw off excess magic.

Every magical creature and object possessed its own nature. Without anyone noticing, it gathered ambient magic from the air.

The dragon egg had a deep foundation. Every so often, enough power would gather on it to become three points of magic essence.

Absorbing that surplus would not affect the egg itself.

The same principle should apply to other magical objects.

"Good. Then growing taller and sleeping properly both begin with finding magic."

With a way forward at last, Vaelor pushed open his door and slipped quietly out.

He avoided the maids preparing luncheon and skirted the noisy idlers gathered in the castle's outer yard.

House Royce of Runestone was one of the strongest noble houses in the Vale, with broad fertile lands, hard soldiers, and enough horses to make any lesser lord envious.

In idle seasons, members of the cadet branches and vassal families often gathered at Runestone, strengthening the castle's defenses and filling the yard with bodies.

So the outer court was busy every day.

Vaelor had no desire to draw attention. He passed through with the smallest presence he could manage.

Before long, he reached a quieter part of the castle.

In the rear yard, he lifted a wooden hatch and climbed down into the Royce family crypt.

It was called a crypt, but it looked more like a storeroom.

The place was dark, with bronze vessels and broken old things piled in the corners.

"Where are you, where are you?"

Vaelor took down an oil lamp and searched by its dim glow.

He kicked aside an inconvenient web. The stone path under his feet looked almost out of place amid the dust and clutter.

This was his secret base.

A child with no one to keep him company always needed somewhere to hide.

An ancestral crypt served very well.

Quiet. Undisturbed. Perfect.

Was he afraid? Hardly.

If a ghost truly appeared down here, it would be an ancestor from so many generations back that family courtesy ought to count for something.

Something rustled in the dark.

After a long search in one corner, Vaelor finally dragged out a rust-stained bronze breastplate with considerable effort.

He wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled in satisfaction.

House Royce was ancient. It had once been the true power in the Vale, ruling lands that included the eastern coastal plains where Runestone stood, the Vale's broad interior, and the harsh Mountains of the Moon.

Two thousand years ago, the Royces had founded the Bronze Kingdom.

Then the Andals invaded Westeros, and the Bronze Kingdom came to an end.

From that time on, the Vale was ruled by House Arryn of the Eyrie, while House Royce became one of its strongest bannermen.

Often enough, the phrase one of could be dropped.

Vaelor crouched and blew the dust from the bronze armor, revealing mysterious runes engraved across its surface.

The moment his small hand touched the metal, a prompt rang beside his ear.

[Essence Panel]

Damaged magical object detected.

Magic Essence +5.

Vaelor lit up.

It really worked.

House Royce carried the blood of the First Men and had clung to an older bronze tradition long after iron conquered the world.

Its ancestors engraved runes on their armor, believing those marks could protect the wearer from harm.

Of course, the protection had never amounted to much.

Those ancient forebears in bronze armor had still died when death came for them.

And now, it was all his.

'Little Vaelor, reporting for duty.'

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