Chapter 3 – Ancient Runes
A small, silver-haired figure darted around like a lively hamster, searching for anything of value.
Old Runestone revered bronze artifacts, and its tombs were filled with ancient bronze armor left behind by generations past. Most of these relics were tattered, bearing the weight of thousands of years of history. The slightest mishandling could cause the corroded metal to crumble to dust, a fate brought about by centuries of neglect.
After a while, aemon had scoured the area and managed to find three relatively intact sets of bronze armor. One set was missing everything except the breastplate, while the other two lacked arms and legs.
Suddenly, a series of notification chimes rang in his ears.
"You have found a broken magical item. Magic Essence +5, +3, +5…"
A translucent panel appeared before him. The golden funnel on the screen rotated, glowing brightly before settling into place.
[Essence Quantity: 16]
Panting from his efforts, aemon wiped the sweat from his brow and examined the armor under the flickering light of an oil lamp.
The first and last sets of armor were relatively complete, their surfaces covered in ancient runes arranged in intricate ring-like patterns across the chest and wrists. The set that had yielded the least magic essence was the most fragile of the three—heavily corroded and riddled with green rust, with only the chest ring of runes remaining intact.
After extracting magic power from them, the runes lost their faint glow, becoming dull and lifeless. Even the distinct metallic scent of copper became more pronounced.
Aemon narrowed his eyes.
Could the magic essence be linked to these ancient runes?
It made sense. The runes must have held some unknown power, a lost art once mastered by his ancestors—perhaps a conduit for magic itself.
"I'll ask Mom when she returns. Maybe she knows something," he murmured to himself.
He needed more magic essence.
After confirming that there were no other salvageable pieces of armor in the tomb, Imon clapped his dirty hands together and turned his attention to his magic panel.
Time to trade for a magic card.
Closing his eyes, he muttered a small prayer.
"May the gods bless me."
With a single tap of his finger, the only card he could afford—a white card labeled [Guide Once]—was selected.
Unlike the radiant dragon eggs that pulsed with power, these ancient bronze artifacts were poor at absorbing and storing magic. Imon knew it would be a long time before he could gather more.
Pop!
The moment his fingertip touched the panel, a blinding light flared up. The card shattered instantly, releasing a golden energy that condensed into the shape of a finger. It hovered in midair before pointing toward the east—outside the tomb.
Aemon's eyes widened in astonishment. A sudden vision flashed through his mind.
He saw a hill east of Runestone City, nestled near the eastern coast. The perspective zoomed in rapidly, stopping at a small patch of soft, slender, dark green grass swaying in the breeze. A faint, soothing fragrance lingered in the air.
"I think I know where that is."
As the vision faded, Aemon grinned and hurriedly left the tomb, his heart pounding with excitement.
Runestone City – A Land of Contrasts
The valley surrounding Runestone City was a place of stark contrasts. The wealth gap between noble families was enormous, and no house demonstrated this divide more than House Royce.
Once a mighty force in the region, the Royce family had ruled over vast fiefdoms. Their lands were prosperous, ideal for farming and grazing, leaving little room for imperfections.
However, the eastern coastline of Runestone City was an unfortunate barrier. Towering cliffs and treacherous, reef-filled beaches rendered the land useless for building a port. Even Seagull Town, the only settlement in the region that could be considered a city, paled in comparison.
According to the [Guide Once] revelation, Imon's destination was a coastal pasture with thriving grasslands. The rare dark green grass growing there was known for its medicinal properties, particularly for treating insomnia and vivid dreams.
A Startling Encounter
Crack!
A wooden board creaked open from beneath a hidden entrance, and a small silver-gold head peeked out cautiously.
Aemon glanced around, making sure no one was nearby before crawling out.
"What do you think you're doing in there?"
A deep, rumbling voice suddenly boomed above him.
Aemon flinched, his large eyes widening in alarm.
Who was that?!
Plop!
Before he could react, a massive boot kicked the wooden board aside. A rough hand grabbed the back of his neck, dragging him upward.
The bright sunlight made him squint. His surroundings gradually came into focus—it was still the backyard of Runestone City.
A towering figure loomed over him, blocking the harsh sunlight. The man's broad, shadowed face was unreadable.
"Gunthor?"
The man before him was enormous—over seven feet tall, well over two meters. His hulking frame was comparable to Ser Gregor Clegane, the infamous "Mountain" of later generations.
Realizing who it was, Imon immediately adjusted his posture. Straightening his back, he raised his chin and gave a curt nod.
"Are you questioning me?"
It was less of a greeting and more of a challenge.
Yes, that's the attitude.
If Gunthor had a problem with him, he was free to act on it. In Runestone City—and throughout Westeros—few would dare lay a hand on him.
An eight-year-old prince is untouchable.
Gunthor Royce, despite his size and strength, hesitated. He exhaled sharply and gave a half-hearted bow.
"Prince, what do you think of the tomb?"
Imon dusted off his clothes. "No complaints. Just needs cleaning."
He waved dismissively. "It was too filthy inside, so I took care of it myself."
Gunthor frowned, his massive frame radiating an intimidating presence. His sheer size alone was enough to make most men tremble.
"Do you have anything else to say?" Aemon asked, completely unfazed. He took a bold step forward, almost daring the knight to strike him.
Gunthor's expression darkened, but he remained silent.
He was a high-ranking knight, a member of a lesser branch of House Royce. While his bloodline was not as pure as Lady Rhea Royce's, he still carried noble lineage. However, he had no claim to Runestone City, serving instead as its castle's chief military instructor.
With his towering build and brutal strength, Gunthor had always been a figure of fear. Yet, this silver-haired boy, barely up to his thigh, stood defiant.
"You are quite something," Gunthor finally muttered. "Just go."
Aemon smirked, knowing he had won the standoff, and turned to leave.
As he walked away, his thoughts drifted to the Royce family's future.
Gunthor would eventually make his mark in history. After Lady Rhea's death, he would maneuver his way into power, appointing a cousin as Runestone's heir. In the years following the Dance of the Dragons, he would rise to become the lord of Runestone City, earning the title "The Bronze Giant."
The man even killed one of his own brothers-in-law.
Before aemon could dwell further, Gunthor's deep voice called out behind him.
"Lady Rhea is returning from her hunt. Lady Martha has been looking for you—you need to wash up and prepare to greet her."
Aemon froze.
"Mom's coming back?!"
His round, baby-fat cheeks twitched, and his legs moved on instinct.
Ignoring the giant knight, he bolted toward the castle, disappearing into the halls of Runestone City.