Deep__Aureate
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Chapter 45 Hunt III
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 11:11:29 +0000 UTCThe sharp crack of underbrush split the quiet as a wild boar crashed through the trees. Leaves flew in its wake, startled birds flapping upward in alarm.
Thwip.
An arrow hissed through the air, missing the boar’s head by mere inches. The creature gave a sharp grunt, half surprise, half fury, and disappeared deeper into the woods.
Fast, uneven footsteps followed a moment later.
“Fuck,” Daemon muttered, brushing past a low-hanging branch. He dropped to one knee and yanked his arrow from the earth. His bow remained gripped in one hand, a quiver slung across his back.
Aegon emerged a step behind him, brushing pine needles from his tunic. “Did you see which way it went?”
Daemon didn’t answer right away. He was already scanning the forest floor, turning in slow circles, searching for hoofprints or signs of the boar’s passing.
“A little help here?” he said, glancing up.
“No,” Aegon replied flatly.
“Seven hellls,” Daemon groaned. “Don’t be a bore—enjoooy the hunt.” He twisted his face into a ridiculous grimace, waving his hands in mock drama.
Aegon rolled his eyes. “ I'm just here for the walk.”
“Fine. Stand there and be useless,” Daemon snorted, already moving off the narrow trail.
“I’ll find the damn thing myself.”
Aegon didn’t answer. He tilted his head back and looked up instead. The sky had shifted. The light was slipping from golden to grey, the trees casting long, quiet shadows across the forest floor.
Dusk already. He frowned slightly, then scanned the treeline.
A few hours earlier, the hunt had officially begun.
Though King Jaehaerys made a ceremonial appearance, it was Prince Baelon who led the main party of nobles and knights deeper into the Kingswood, hounds barking at their heels.
Aegon had stayed behind at first, lingering at the edge of the royal pavilion, his presence drawing glances from every corner. But stares had grown heavier, too many eyes, too much awe, too much whispering behind goblets and embroidered sleeves.
So he left.
Outside the camp, he found Daemon tightening a saddle strap, muttering about “idiot nobles” and “better company in the trees.” He had been preparing for a solo ride, bow slung over his shoulder, horse already stamping in place.
“I’ll come with you,” Aegon had said without preamble.
Daemon only gave him a raised brow, then nodded.
Now, hours later, the two of them moved deeper into the wood.
Just trees, wind, and the lingering adrenaline of a near-miss shot.
Aegon exhaled quietly, adjusting the weight of his belt sword as he scanned the forest.
The boar was long gone.
And now, so was Daemon.
Aegon simply stood still amidst the thickening woods. But he wasn’t worried.
With a breath, he reached inward, and unfolded his spirituality.
Like an unseen wave, it spread outward from him in all directions, threading through bark and branch, over roots and stone. Every blade of grass, every flicker of movement, every living thing within sixty meters came into his mind.
There. Daemon, thirty paces to the northeast, poking around under a thicket. And beyond him, deeper tracks pressed into the soft forest floor, the boar’s trail.
This was the effect of pushing his [Wizard Apprentice] class to Level 6. His spiritual perception had expanded with it, sixty meters of absolute awareness centered around him.
And more importantly, there was no one else nearby.
No knights. No watchers. Just trees and twilight and quiet.
Aegon turned slowly, eyes scanning. Plants and branches broke the line of sight, but his perception pierced through them effortlessly.
Isn’t this the perfect place to test it? he thought.
A slow breath left his lungs. His fingers flexed.
Let’s begin.
He swept the perimeter again, every animal, every breeze accounted for, then dropped into stillness.
His focus turned inward.
Within his mental space, glowing softly, floated a single spell model. Complex, elegant, woven from runes arranged in deliberate pattern.
Aegon reached for it with his mind. And activated it.
The ground in front of him stirred.
Grass and small plants bent back, pushed aside as the dirt below churned. In seconds, the soil rose upward, reshaping, first into a broad, flat slab, then higher. A mud wall, roughly two meters tall and fifteen centimeters thick, stood before him like a crude barricade.
Aegon tilted his head, studying it. Then smiled.
He raised a hand, focused again.
The wall crumbled like wet sand, then swirled upward, reforming into a three-meter pillar, thin and cylindrical.
Another flick of his will. The pillar collapsed.
This time the earth trembled slightly as the ground caved in, forming a clean-edged pit, three meters deep. The surrounding grass folded over its lip.
For the next several minutes, he worked silently. Reshaping and testing.
Walls, trenches, slopes, barriers. Everything responded to his direction like clay in the hands of a sculptor.
From time to time, he swept his surroundings again with his spirituality, ensuring no one had wandered too close. He couldn’t risk being seen.
Finally, he let the last of the dirt settle.
“Perfect,” he murmured, wiping a trace of dust from his palm. His smile was quiet, but wholly satisfied.
All of this, from walls to pits, had come from the single spell model, floating in his consciousness: [Primary Earth Manipulation].
It was clean, elegant, and flexible. But the real discovery hadn’t been the spell, but with what it had been constructed with.
When his class had hit Level 6, his spirituality had changed.
It had begun to show hints of bonding with magic.
That had never happened before. Until now, magic had only bonded with objects—fire, stone, air, water, clay. But with this upgrade, his spirituality had undergone a transformation: it could now bond with magic itself.
He began experimenting at once, for this had opened up a whole new range of possibilities.
And within days, he succeeded. By binding magic to his spirituality, which he controlled with precision, he had unlocked a new rune. Something entirely different from the elemental glyphs he had worked with before.
He called it the [Will Rune].
Not a rune of nature or substance, but of intent. It asserted the caster's intent into the spell model.
And now, it pulsed faintly at the heart of his only constructed spell, [Primary Earth Manipulation].
The model was built from three runes: [Earth Rune] + [Form Rune] + [Will Rune].
He had only a single model for now, but the inclusion of the [Will Rune] had made it vastly more adaptable, capable of real-time reshaping, collapsing, or reconfiguring with nothing but thought.
It resembled his flamecraft ability, except it manipulated earth, not fire.
Satisfied, Aegon straightened.
Then turned and began moving toward Daemon.
While the men were off in the woods, the royal pavilion had taken on a different kind of energy. The ladies of the realm gathered around low tables, sipping wine and nibbling on fruits and cakes as maids moved between them with trays.
Light, polite laughter drifted through the tent. Conversations skipped between family news, dress embroidery, idle gossip… and inevitably, Aegon.
“I was shocked terribly,” murmured Lady Redwyne, eyes wide as she leaned in toward the circle. “Just held up his hand and there it was… flame. Floating like a living thing.”
“I thought it was some illusion at first,” said Lady Elena. “But when it flew overhead... Seven help me, I felt the heat.”
“It’s blood. The blood of dragons,” Queen Alysanne said mildly, her tone warm but proud. She reached for a cup of tea instead of wine.
Most nodded, more intrigued than afraid. There was no panic, only the kind of awe that left people glancing sideways, uncertain of the boundaries of the world.
Lady Alyrie Hightower sat a little apart from the others, her hands folded neatly on her lap. She hadn’t spoken. She didn’t need to. The tightness in her shoulders and the faint crease between her brows made her thoughts plain enough. She was devout, and while she would not speak ill of the prince, certainly not in front of the Queen, she did not like what she had seen.
Magic was not something the Faith welcomed.
Gael, sitting beside her mother, reached for another pastry.
“He did much more than that on Dragonstone,” she said matter-of-factly. “Shot balls of flame and burned down armored dummies like they were toys.”
Several ladies blinked at her in unison.
Lady Jocelyn chuckled under her breath. “She’s not exaggerating. We saw it ourselves.”
Lady Redwyne gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ve heard the rumors. Prince Baelon mentioned something at court... but I never thought...”
Before she could finish, a maid stepped in through the curtain and leaned in to whisper something into Queen Alysanne’s ear.
The Queen’s expression shifted almost immediately, eyebrows lifting in surprise, lips parting in a smile that warmed to delight.
“I beg your pardon, ladies,” she said, rising from her seat with a gracious nod. “Please, carry on.”
She followed the maid outside, her steps quickening until she reached the edge of the pavilion. A familiar figure in maester’s robes waited just beyond the tent.
“Vaegon!” she said with sudden joy.
The man turned and bowed his head. “Mother.”
She walked forward and embraced him tightly, holding on for a moment longer. When she pulled back, she studied him with both affection and a touch of reprimand.
“You finally came. You were supposed to be here hours ago. And your letters…have grown shorter. And fewer.”
“Things at the Citadel have been relentless,” Vaegon replied with an even voice. “More reports than essays lately.”
“Too constant to write to your mother?”
He gave a faint, sheepish shrug. “I’ll do better.”
“You’d better,” she said, though her tone was light.
She glanced up at him again, her gaze softer. “You missed your nephew’s miracle.”
“So I’ve heard,” Vaegon said with a wry smile. “I imagine he made quite the impression.”
“He did. You’d have been proud,” Alysanne said quietly with a smile.
“Hmm.” Vaegon gave a quiet, noncommittal reply.
She tilted her head at him. “Come. Sit with me awhile. We’ve barely had a moment to speak these past few years.”
They returned to the pavilion and found seats just slightly removed from the main group. The buzz of conversation continued around them.
“So,” Alysanne said, after a pause, “what are you studying these days? Though I likely won’t understand half of it,” she added with a chuckle.
Vaegon smiled. “More advanced work lately. Metallurgy, primarily. If all goes well, I might earn an archmaester’s ring in a few years.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said, pride softening her voice. But the smile faded after a beat.
“Saera,” she murmured. “Has she written to you?”
Vaegon’s expression shifted, a brief flicker of discomfort passing across his face.
“I sent letters, as you asked. She’s in Lys now. Still…” he paused, searching for a gentler way to phrase it. “Still working in... the same places.”
Alysanne’s gaze dropped, her voice no louder than a whisper. “As long as she’s alive and safe.”
Vaegon looked at her then, his mother, still holding the burdens of all her children in the lines around her eyes.
She straightened a little, brushing the moment away with a quiet breath.
“You’ll stay a while, now that you’re here? Maegelle’s in the city. She didn’t wish to join the hunt.”
“I’d planned to,” Vaegon replied. “My current studies are on metallurgy. Since young Aegon seems determined to understand Valyrian steel, I thought I might work alongside him. At least for a time.”
Alysanne’s eyes lit up.
“That’s wonderful. He’ll be glad to have you near. And truthfully… it would ease my mind as well.”
They shared a quiet look. Then more small conversation followed, about childhood memories and old names.
Eventually, Alysanne rose.
She smiled and walked away, rejoining the soft laughter inside the pavilion.
Vaegon stayed where he was for a moment longer, then walked outside the tent, his gaze sweeping across the hunting camp beyond.
A flicker of memory surfaced, sharp and uninvited. Alyssa. Her laughter, her pride. And the way she’d humiliated him in front of others when he was barely twelve.
That memory receded, giving way to a different one. Colder.
The last words given to him by the Conclave.
Observe…
His expression flattened.
Observe Aegon.
And so, he would.
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁
Chad B. Sonnen
Where is chapter 46? Chapter 48 just came out but no 46 for lower tier.
Somebody
Aegon should focus on his body. Blades breaks on my skins
Hooli4ss
This boy Vaegon just sat there and lied in The OG face!? He will find out real quick , Aegon don’t fuck with the grey rats! Doesn’t matter if they were once a Dragon. I hope he handles this scum bag swiftly for the betrayal.
Gilgamesh
Tftc!
Gopard
I still think espionage and counter espionage needs to come first... Maybe potentially trumped by some "noble diplomacy/courtier class" There's already so little that could ever threaten Aegon in open combat if anything schemes or overwhelming forces levied against him through politics will lead to danger for him right? Especially now with Vaegon here... I'm pretty relieved but also worried... The Maesters at least have not directly moved to assassination both lucky for Aegon and dangerous... Because on the one Hand Aegon will only grow stronger (this reminds me he should probably try some kind of healing class at some point if he were to try and "optimize" his "build"...) on the other I'm all but certain Vaegon will soon notice how fast Aegon seems to be growing in power and capabillities or alarmed at him "hiding so much of his abillities" and thus the Maester faction vying for direct assassination will likely get their way at some point soon?
Arcturus
He could potentially get Hunter job with bonuses for archery, tracking and movement in forests?🤔 Thanks for new chapter!
Mr.goldenweek
Traitor scum
