Chapter 52 — A True Treasure Unearthed
Daenerys noticed Barristan's expression and glanced at him in puzzlement.
He stepped forward and introduced the man before them:
"Your Grace, this is Lord Daren Ryl—once a close retainer of your brother, Prince Rhaegar.
We fought side by side at the Battle of the Trident."
The moment Daenerys realized he had served Rhaegar, she hurried to help the man back to his feet.
"Lord Ryl… why are you here, in Yunkai?"
For someone of noble rank, his worn clothes and weary appearance were indistinguishable from a vagrant's.
Daenerys could not hide her surprise.
Daren glanced briefly at Barristan's questioning eyes, let out a thin, bitter smile, and said:
"My wounds were grievous at the Trident.
In the chaos, I fell into the Green Fork—and by the time I recovered, Prince Rhaegar was already dead.
I could not bend the knee to Robert… and I feared dragging my family down with me.
So I fled across the sea and wandered ever since."
Barristan said nothing, yet his silence was heavy with understanding.
Robert Baratheon loathed Rhaegar for stealing his betrothed, Lyanna Stark.
Though Barristan himself had been pardoned as one of King Aerys' Kingsguard, Robert would never have spared a high-ranking retainer of Rhaegar's.
For Daren, exile had been the only path left.
Daenerys' voice softened:
"Lord Ryl, the Academy needs people of your learning.
These books—keep them. I won't take something you cherish."
The care with which Daren had cleaned and preserved each volume spoke of years of devotion.
She could not bring herself to claim them.
Daren shook his head firmly.
"Your Grace, these books are my donation to the Academy.
Consider it my humble contribution to its founding.
Please—accept them."
He had already seen how few books had been gathered so far.
He knew their worth lay not in hoarding but in preserving knowledge for a new beginning.
Daenerys paused—then accepted.
She signaled Irri to wrap the books carefully, lest a single page be damaged.
Meanwhile, Barristan stepped closer, his voice filled with relief:
"Daren… I thought you dead all these years.
I never imagined you survived—and fled across the Narrow Sea."
Old comrades reunited, their shared past hung between them like a fragile thread.
Daenerys gave them space—she still had Drogon, after all.
And she had much to consider: how best to place a man of Daren's background, and what role he could play in her grand design.
With one of Rhaegar's loyal men now among her people, Daenerys felt the Academy's foundation growing stronger.
---
Registration continued until dusk.
Only when the last name was taken did Missandei and Irri begin compiling the long list of applicants.
Later that night, while Missandei finished her work, Daenerys remembered Drogon's earlier thought and asked quietly:
"Missandei… you speak more than a dozen languages.
Could you compile a book to teach them?
A language text—something we could use at the Academy?"
Missandei froze.
"A… a book to teach languages?"
She had never imagined such a thing.
Her childhood had been filled with tongues and voices—she had learned languages by listening, later recognizing letters only after mastering speech.
Some dialects had no written form at all.
A structured language book was something she had never seen, never even considered—yet the more she thought about it, the more her heart raced.
If she could write such a book, future students of the Academy—from freedmen to nobles—would use her work to learn.
Her skill, once merely a tool for others, could now shape learning itself.
For a former slave, that realization was overwhelming.
Missandei's eyes shone as she bowed her head and declared:
"Your Grace—yes.
I will write a language text.
I will use it to teach others!"
Drogon watched her trembling excitement, tried to keep his thoughts steady—yet his heart swelled.
He could stay no longer.
With a single beat of his wings, he rose from Daenerys' shoulder and soared into the night sky.
[As expected.]
Drogon's sudden departure left Daenerys puzzled.
Just before he flew off, he seemed to mutter "As expected."
She had no idea what he meant.
Unable to make sense of it, she let the thought go and turned back to Missandei, excitedly discussing how to structure a beginner's language textbook.
---
High above the city, Drogon was losing his mind.
"So she has been reading my thoughts! I've been danced around this whole time and only realized now!"
"No wonder I never got any proper transmigrator perks—I'm just the side character. She's the real protagonist."
"What an actress… She fooled me for so long!"
"I can't stay like this. This is worse than being stripped naked and thrown in front of her—
and I don't even have clothes to strip!"
His inner complaints built to a dramatic sigh.
"A scam! A complete scam!"
As if being saddled with a "designed-to-suffer" skill set wasn't enough, now Daenerys could apparently peek into his heart whenever she pleased.
Even as a dragon, his dignity felt violated.
What son could stand his own mother reading every private thought?
And she wasn't even his mother!
After the turmoil passed, he forced himself to calm down.
He replayed countless moments spent with Daenerys, analyzing each unusual decision she'd made.
Gradually, he realized something—
Daenerys only seemed aware of some of his inner thoughts, not all.
Perhaps her ability was limited.
Perhaps not every thought was open to her.
Perhaps certain ideas stayed hidden.
But what thoughts slipped through, and which stayed sealed?
What was the boundary?
Drogon pondered for half the night, but found no answer.
In the end, he came to a single conclusion:
He needed to test her—secretly.
Only then could he understand the rules… and protect his hidden identity.
So once again, he spent the night on a high branch, practicing clearing his mind—
or at least trying to, despite his thoughts constantly spinning out of control.
---
The Next Morning
Registrations and book collection continued, though the crowds had thinned considerably.
After reviewing the previous day's sign-ups, Daenerys made her decision:
Today, they would begin in-person evaluations.
They would assess:
whether candidates qualified for the Academy,
whether they could serve as instructors,
or even hold administrative positions.
Of course, many fields—agriculture, construction, music—couldn't be fairly judged by the current examiners.
Most of them were experts with a sword, not a plow or chisel.
They could observe, but not truly evaluate.
---
Daren had already been given lodging the night before.
When Daenerys privately asked Barristan about his capabilities, the old knight recommended him without hesitation.
Daren was suitable for teaching—perhaps even overseeing Yunkai's governance once the army marched on Meereen.
With his knowledge and a defensive force left behind, he could manage the city in Daenerys' stead.
Thus, Daren was listed among the principal interviewers, alongside Daenerys and Missandei.
Jorah and Barristan were also pulled in—much to their surprise.
They were warriors, not scholars, but their life experience allowed them to judge character, discipline, and intelligence even outside their fields.
Neither knight had ever imagined a day would come when they sat behind a table, grading candidates like masters of a guild.
It was a novelty they couldn't help but marvel at—and the others were no different.
None of them had ever lived through something like this.