A pair of purple eyes widened as a gorgeous floating panel appeared before him, suspended in midair like something out of a dream.
At the center of the panel were three gray card images, the most conspicuous elements, sitting above a golden hourglass. Next to it, a line read: [Number of Essence: 3].
The background was misty white—vague, ethereal, fantastical.
"The Golden Finger is here!"
Aemon was so excited he almost cried out. He reached out with his tiny hand and poked the edge of the floating panel.
Could this be the beginning of better days?
As his finger touched it, the whiteness rippled like water, covering everything and transforming into a new display.
[Aemon Targaryen]
Talent: Dreamer (Gold)
Skills: High Valyrian (Proficient), Common Tongue (Proficient)...
Magic Card: None
Status: "A human cub suffering from severe sleep deprivation, which has begun to affect physical development."
"Huh? There are changes?"
Aemon looked carefully, especially at the [Status] line.
He glanced down at himself. His limbs were white and chubby—he didn't look malnourished.
Aemon frowned and measured himself from head to toe with both hands.
He really didn't seem that tall.
He was nine years old this year—well, technically eight—and just over a meter tall. A bit short.
Children his age, especially those in the Vale who carried the blood of the First Men, were often a full head taller.
"So it's not that they're growing too fast—I'm just growing too slowly?"
He finally understood.
No wonder. He, too, carried half the blood of the First Men.
He turned his attention back to the shimmering light panel, but it didn't respond.
Must be a single-player system.
It didn't have a proper name. He decided to call it the [Magic Essence Panel].
"How do I use it? I don't want to turn into a little sweet potato."
Aemon poked the [Status Bar] with his finger.
"…"
Nothing happened.
He sighed, gave up on the unresponsive [Status Bar], and focused on exploring the rest.
About fifteen minutes later, Aemon had figured out the entire Magic Essence Panel.
The white front side was an exchange interface, used to view "magic essence" and trade for cards.
The reverse side was a personal panel, which displayed Aemon's current condition.
Clear gains and losses.
After understanding the rules, Aemon held the black dragon egg in one hand and tapped the exchange page with the other.
"I need to fix my sleep issues first." Hatching the dragon egg could wait—dealing with his immediate problems came first.
Boop!
Three lights flashed in different colors, and the reflections of the three gray cards flipped over.
[Guide Once]: "A small opportunity."
A golden finger pointed in a direction on a blank white background.
[One-Handed Sword Mastery]: "Favored by brave knights."
The card was mostly green, depicting a rust-covered longsword.
[Solid as a Rock]: "Hardened skin, like stone."
A blue card showing a grayish-white little figure posing with strength. Small "+1" numbers floated above its head.
Clearly, the three cards represented three different tiers.
"They're all good... but the price…"
Aemon's eyes lit up but quickly dimmed when he saw the numbers below the cards.
White card: [10 Essence]
Green card: [60 Essence]
Blue card: [150 Essence]
Each cost more than the last. He glanced at his [Essence: 3] and quietly pulled back his eager little claws.
"No rush. If I don't have enough essence, I'll just find more."
Aemon wasn't discouraged—in fact, he already had a plan.
Based on the panel's rules, magical items could be partially absorbed to convert their energy into magic essence, which would be stored in the hourglass.
He closed the panel and gently lifted the black dragon egg with both hands.
The earlier system prompt had confirmed it: "Magic Essence +3" had come from the egg.
Dragons were top-tier magical creatures, and eggs capable of hatching dragons naturally brimmed with magic.
"Good thing it didn't harm the little dragon inside."
Relieved, Aemon carefully returned the dragon egg to its incubator and patted his chest.
The absorption process had its safeguards.
Unless done deliberately, the panel only absorbed excess magical energy.
All magical creatures and items had innate properties that drew ambient magic toward them. Dragon eggs, for example, had a deep magical core and could accumulate 3 points of essence periodically.
Absorbing this excess wouldn't harm the egg itself.
This same logic applied to other magical items too.
"Alright, growing taller and sleeping better starts with finding more magic."
Fueled by determination, Aemon quietly pushed open the door and slipped outside.
…
He avoided the maid preparing lunch and slipped past the bustling castle courtyard unnoticed.
As one of the most powerful noble families in the Vale, the Royces of Runestone held vast fertile lands and a formidable army.
Their vassals and extended family members would often come to strengthen the castle's defenses.
As a result, the outer courtyard was always full of people.
Aemon didn't want to draw attention and slipped through with minimal presence.
Soon, the crowds thinned out.
He reached a wooden hatch at the back of the castle and quietly opened it.
He had entered the Royce family crypt.
Although called a crypt, it resembled more of a storage vault.
It was dark, and the corners were cluttered with old bronze objects and forgotten relics.
"Where is it... where…"
Aemon grabbed an oil lamp and searched around in the dim light.
Cobwebs clung to the walls. The stone-brick corridor beneath his feet stood in contrast to the dusty surroundings.
This was his secret base.
A lonely child always needed a place to escape to.
The ancestral crypt was a perfect hideaway.
Quiet. Undisturbed.
And honestly, he wasn't afraid. If he did run into a ghost, it would just be one of his long-dead relatives.
Didn't everyone have a few family members in the afterlife?
Fwoosh!
He crouched in a corner and searched for a long time, finally dragging out a set of rusty bronze armor with great effort.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he smiled in satisfaction.
The Royce family had a long and ancient history. They had once ruled over the Vale as sovereigns of the "Bronze Kingdom."
Their territory had included the fertile eastern plains, Runestone City, the entire Vale plateau, and the towering Mountains of the Moon.
Two thousand years ago, the Royce family had founded the Bronze Kingdom.
But after the Andals invaded Westeros, their rule came to an end.
Since then, the Vale had been ruled by House Arryn in the Eyrie, with the Royces becoming their most powerful vassals.
Often, the words "most powerful" didn't even need the "one of."
Aemon knelt and gently brushed the dust off the ancient armor, revealing the mysterious runes etched onto its surface.
As his tiny fingers touched it, a system prompt echoed in his mind:
"Touched damaged magical item – gained +5 Magic Essence."
Aemon's eyes lit up. It worked!
The Royce family, descended from the First Men, revered their ancient bronze culture.
They would inscribe protective runes on their armor, believing it would shield them from harm.
Of course, in the end, it didn't really work—those ancestors still died when they were killed.
But for Aemon, it was a windfall.
"Little Aemon, reporting for duty!"