Chapter 487

Under identical conditions, people living in colder regions typically keep a greater portion of their bodies covered for longer periods to stay warm. The parts of the body shielded from sunlight often become noticeably paler compared to exposed skin.

As a perfectly normal human being, Aegor was no exception to this biological rule. Under the natural light streaming through the window, the skin on his chest, just below his collarbone, could almost be described as "snow-white"—a delicate, effeminate term that felt strangely appropriate. If not for the faint presence of body hair, it might have seemed outright feminine.

But in this moment, it was precisely that whiteness that made the oddity on his chest stand out so starkly. His eyes were drawn immediately to the abnormality.

Where his sternum should have been smooth and flat, a slightly raised, flat bump had appeared. Beneath the thin layer of skin and capillaries, a foreign object could vaguely be seen: a small, plate-like piece about the size of a fingernail. Its shape tapered slightly, with one end rounded and the other pointed, unmistakably resembling a scale. What surprised Aegor most was its color—it wasn’t the pure silver he had imagined, akin to the hair of the woman in his dreams, but rather a mix of crimson gold with a faint trace of silver shimmer. The effect was unnervingly surreal, as if someone had surgically embedded a shiny, freshly minted coin beneath his skin.

The pain gradually subsided, and yet the skin around the scale showed no signs of inflammation or rejection—no redness, no swelling. Even when he pressed on it, the scale didn’t budge or shift beneath the skin. Apart from the subtle warmth radiating from it, the foreign object felt so natural that it might as well have grown there on its own.

Fascinating.

Had the scale been magically embedded beneath his skin without causing harm? Or had it somehow burrowed into his body, and then some power sealed the wound seamlessly? And why had its giver insisted on embedding it in his body instead of simply handing it to him—perhaps as a pendant to hang around his neck? Were they worried he might lose it? And, even more curiously, where on that goddess's body had this scale come from before it was plucked off and thrust into him?

The thought—of having a piece of a woman forcibly implanted into his body—left Aegor with a peculiar sense of discomfort and an unsettling inversion of control.

Shaking his head to dismiss the chaotic thoughts, Aegor realized now wasn’t the time for speculation. What he needed to do was figure out what this scale could do. R’hllor had told him in the dream to study it slowly, which meant its functions likely went beyond the few mentioned.

A cheat, or perhaps a golden finger… Whatever you wanted to call it, anything that gave him an edge was welcome. To be frank, if R’hllor had given him this boon earlier—back when he had first arrived in this world, or during the war against the White Walkers—he would have been endlessly grateful and eternally indebted. But now? Now, as he prepared to march south to unite the Seven Kingdoms, with confidence already surging through him?

It wasn’t that he was arrogant enough to refuse help, but rather… How could he put it?

A helping hand in times of need was priceless. But an extra gift when everything was already going well? Who cared?

This scale, as a token of a god and a prepayment of sorts, had arrived at a timing so poor that Aegor could hardly muster any excitement. If it didn’t offer him some unexpected, impressive ability, it would remain little more than a useless bauble—a dull, anticlimactic addition.

As he brooded over his mixed feelings, Aegor’s eyebrow shot up. Without warning, he discovered the scale’s first hidden function—something R’hllor hadn’t mentioned.

He seemed to have gained an immunity to cold.

The commander’s quarters were well-insulated and warmed by a fireplace, far more comfortable than the freezing outdoors. Yet after an entire night, the room was barely above freezing, and now a hole in the roof had let the temperature plummet further. Ordinarily, stepping out of bed in such conditions would leave anyone shivering as their body heat quickly dissipated. But this time, even after rising from the bedding, standing by the window, and letting several minutes pass, Aegor felt no chill. On the contrary, his body was warm and comfortable, to the point where he only just realized he was standing in nothing but his undergarments.

Testing his body temperature by touch, he confirmed the warmth was no illusion—it was real. His body temperature was slightly elevated but still within normal ranges, nothing like the searing heat emitted by Melisandre or Moqorro. This meant his newfound resistance to the cold wasn’t accompanied by any outwardly abnormal changes.

Now this was a good start. This unexpected boon alone was enough to make Aegor appreciate the scale’s potential.

Curious to test the limits of this newfound resistance, he threw on a coat, fastened his belt loosely, and skipped any further protective layers. Just like that, he left his quarters, crossed through the adjacent office, and stepped out into the freezing outdoors.

The weather outside was cheerful and sunny, despite the persistent signs of winter’s grip. Since the defeat of the White Walkers, the sun had begun making more frequent appearances, though the cold air remained bitter. Even as the chill seeped through the gaps in his clothes, Aegor felt no discomfort.

He glanced at the clear sky, half-expecting something to appear, but when nothing happened, he shook his head and turned to the two guards stationed nearby. Feigning casualness, he asked, “You two—tell me honestly. Do you notice anything… different about me today?”

The guards widened their eyes, hesitating before one of them scratched his face and replied, “Uh… My lord, you seem… a bit more commanding than usual?”

“That’s putting it mildly!” the other interrupted eagerly. “The moment I saw you, I nearly fell to my knees on instinct—if it weren’t for your strict orders forbidding it!”

“Indeed,” the first guard nodded in agreement. “It’s almost like that feeling we got when we accompanied you to see Queen Daenerys, though… your presence feels even stronger, my lord. Uh, you didn’t… seduce the queen or something, did you?”

Aegor shot the soldier a glare, cutting off the inappropriate speculation. Yet inwardly, he felt a sudden clarity. This explained it—when he’d first met Daenerys, that same spine-tingling, hair-raising sensation had washed over him. He’d dismissed it as psychological, a reaction to the environment and tension. But now it was clear: it wasn’t a façade, nor some innate charisma. This was the true might of the dragon, inherited from the Targaryen bloodline.

His question had been vague—asking whether they noticed any differences about him, not specifically pointing out his aura. And yet, their answers aligned perfectly. This confirmed that R’hllor hadn’t lied: the scale imbued him with this draconic presence. However, whether their claims of his aura surpassing Daenerys’s were sincere or just flattery remained uncertain. That would require longer observation.

And speaking of tests… R’hllor had mentioned this aura likely affected animals as well. The stables were the nearest place with animals. Would the horses become docile and submissive in his presence? Or would they panic in fear?

Motioning for the guards to follow, Aegor prepared to head to the stables. But before he could take another step, the hurried figures of Melisandre and Moqorro came into view.

The two Red Priests, usually so composed and enigmatic, were now utterly disheveled, rushing toward the building with a near-panic urgency. Their rapid, almost stumbling pace brought them face-to-face with Aegor just as he was about to leave.

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