After giving the Earl of Duskendale suggestions to have farmers, and even the vagrants he sheltered, cultivate land to increase their income, Viserys set off again. They spent a month passing through the Earls' territories of Stokeworth, Hayford, Sow's Horn, and Horn Hill in turn. Viserys showed his favor and tried to win over these Earls who belonged to the royal domain. After all, this was the basic territory of the Targaryen King, one of the logistical support areas. Wealth and stability were good.
The Riverlands were just ahead. As a large plain in the three river basins, the land here was fertile and surrounded by mountains on both sides. If there was a war, it would be a strategic location. For example, the War of the Usurper.
Viserys rode on horseback, looking at the rolling river water. The shallow beach was full of pebbles rounded by the water. His phobia was about to act up again—he hated to ponder, if he pushed Robert off his horse while fording the river, could he, wearing armor, climb out of the water? Yes! This was a major disadvantage for heavy cavalry encountering a river!
I'll write a letter to my brother about this idea.
In Viserys's imagination, the reborn Battle of the Trident had already become an overwhelming advantage for the royal army: trip lines and light cavalry specifically designed to cut the legs of warhorses caused Robert's rebels to roll into the rapid currents. They couldn't turn over like iron turtles and drowned half of them. Then, the royal army poured Wildfire upstream—oil was lighter than water—then threw down torches—Robert would become an iron box roasting a boar.
This is how I will fight, and no one can threaten my brother. His dark purple eyes burned with flames, staring at the black-haired man carrying a warhammer beside him, the desire to kill him surging. He even thought that he could do it even now. Tonight, camping in the wilderness, setting a fire in the tent and burning Robert, who was always drinking and enjoying himself, sleeping soundly and snoring like thunder, would be easy—but wouldn't that make him die too muddled?
Compared to murder, Viserys wanted Robert to be utterly defeated in a helpless situation. He didn't even want people to think of him in the future as a handsome man with beautiful blue eyes, black hair, handsome and strong. The fat, drunken, and muddle-headed Boar King was the reputation he deserved.
We'll see.
Robert was completely oblivious to the malice around him. He was in a great mood, having enjoyed some pleasant company and warm beds along the way. Turning in the saddle, he saw Viserys lost in thought – the silver-haired young prince had a depth beyond his years. Robert thought, This is no good. At this rate, he'll become just like his gloomy, boring older brother.
"Hey, that word you used, 'core competitiveness'—that is, your own unique advantages that others can't easily match. What do you think the Stormlands' is?" Robert asked his page seriously.
Since that night at the Red Keep, Robert had found Viserys quite clever. Although young, he spoke persuasively. For example, along the way, he had advised the Lord of Stokeworth to raise sheep extensively on his land to match his house's emblem of a green field with a white lamb. His reasoning was: "If you could supply all the mutton consumed in King's Landing, you would gain the King's favor. Selling the wool and hides would also bring in a large fortune. Your biggest advantage in developing sheep farming is your proximity to King's Landing. Sheep can graze, and within three days, they can reach King's Landing. Freshly slaughtered meat is also fat and juicy, which is much more time-saving and cost-effective than merchants driving sheep from the Riverlands or the Stormlands to sell."
He had also told the Lord of Hayford, a lady of excellent temperament, that she should build an academy on the hills through which the stream flowed. "King's Landing lacks a Citadel compared to Oldtown. Honorable Lady, would you be willing to host gatherings and invite scholars or sorcerers to discuss and improve the cultural atmosphere?"
The Countess, who already loved reading and was now single, immediately took a liking to Viserys's suggestion, which was a carbon copy of the salons of 17th-century Parisian noblewomen. Later, the famous Hayford Academy of Westeros was indeed established here.
Robert found it very interesting to listen to all of his suggestions along the way. He wanted to know what would be good for his own Storm's End lands.
Viserys had originally wanted to say contemptuously, "The birthplace of bastards," but he wasn't going to openly fall out with Robert right now. So, he said perfunctorily, "Isn't it furs?"
The Stormlands produced ermine, fox fur, and rabbit fur. The King and Crown Prince of King's Landing wore black cat-skin robes trimmed with weasel fur. The winter clothes Viserys brought out were also sable pelts, which were said to come from the Stormlands. Based on this industry alone, the Lord of Storm's End earned a considerable income.
"Yes, I'd like to know if there are any others," Robert asked, his interest piqued.
…You brought this on yourself. Viserys thought coldly. He didn't mind screwing over Robert Baratheon again. He pretended to ponder for a moment before offering a suggestion. "Farming, for example. Wild boars. Catch piglets, raise a herd, and release them into the forests for you and the guests of Storm's End, or other nobles, to hunt. You could also farm oysters and eels in the sea, enclosing their young with nets and feeding them until they're ready to harvest, just like crops."
Robert loved hunting, especially wild boars. He thought this was a great idea! After all, not every forest had such a challenging quarry! He was a hero who could twist a boar's tusks with his bare hands and overcome it!
The young scion of a great house naturally couldn't imagine the consequences of the Stormlands breeding wild boars en masse, leading to an overabundance in the noble lands: all the crops would be ruined, and the people would be in an uproar. And farming seafood? It sounded good, but the Stormlands were prone to storms, and a single bad weather event could ruin the entire harvest.
That wasn't enough. Viserys knew Robert was a drunkard, so he continued, "You could dig a large pool at Storm's End, line the bottom with cobblestones, and build sturdy walls around it. Then, fill it with wine. Guests could then simply dive in and drink to their heart's content. Beside the pool, lay out furs on the ground, and hang dried wild boar meat from the trees. Anyone who wants to eat can just grab some — everyone will feel your bravery and generosity, what do you think?"
Robert's eyes lit up! That was an absolutely brilliant idea that no one had ever thought of before! Eating heartily and drinking wine to your heart's content! He laughed heartily, "I'll start building it as soon as I return to the Stormlands! And —"
Robert thought his cousin Viserys was much more likable than Rhaegar. He admired his endless stream of interesting ideas. "Summerhall is also in the Stormlands, Viserys. When you become a prince in the future, we can enjoy ourselves together, ride horses, hunt, and be like brothers!"
Brothers?
Viserys nearly lost his composure. You too? He concealed his expression, touching the scarf around his neck and longing for his brother far away.
At the Eyrie, Crown Prince Rhaegar was dealing with a dispute between the Clynton and Mullendore families: both were arguing over ownership of a strip of forest bordering their lands. Rhaegar knew that no matter who won, there would be trouble: the other side's hunters or farmers would inevitably enter the territory to gather and hunt, and they could lose a hand. Hatred would accumulate, and new conflicts would arise. Therefore, he initially suggested that the two sides settle the matter with a duel.
Sir Mullendore looked grim. Everyone knew that Jon was highly skilled with a sword. He was a guard for the Crown Prince in King's Landing. He was afraid of losing an arm or even his life in a duel, but he couldn't refuse without betraying the honor of a knight. Beads of sweat appeared on the forehead of the forty-year-old, plump knight. He looked at his sickly eldest son and his second son, who was so fat he could barely walk through a door. He secretly complained that the Crown Prince was biased.
The Crown Prince looked at him with his purple eyes and offered a second solution: no one was allowed to harm any commoner who entered the forest, whether they were gathering firewood or hunting rabbits. The compensation set by the lord was to be a minimum, a uniform two-tenths. Each side would take one. If a hunter caught a deer, the left hind leg would go to the Clynton family, and the right hind leg would go to the Mullendore family. If only a small animal like a rabbit was caught, both sides would be exempt from taxes.
This was much better than a duel, and Sir Mullendore immediately agreed.
Jon gave the Crown Prince a slight smile. "Your merciful decision will allow people to live a new life."
They embraced, and both sides reconciled.
Afterward, the farmers, hunters, and commoners of the territory were also invited to participate in a hunting activity held in the disputed forest. The Crown Prince, in a hunting outfit, holding a longsword, descended like the Warrior of the Seven Gods. He personally told them that they no longer had to fear the punishment of losing a hand. Also, a fierce Boar King had appeared in the forest, and whoever caught it would be rewarded with ten Gold Dragons.
Commoners barely earn a few Gold Dragons in their entire lives. Although the Boar King was ferocious, hunters, forced by circumstances, began to band together, forming groups to cooperate. They spent several days in the mountains and, while they didn't see any boars, they did manage to hunt more game than usual.
When two groups emerged, carrying three deer, more than twenty rabbits, two roe deer, and two foxes, the Crown Prince admitted there were no boars, and the Gold Dragons were given to everyone who had learned to cooperate in the hunt.
"Your enemies, your opponents, are not your neighbors who dress and make a living like you," the Targaryen heir said. "You should rely on each other, help each other, and trust each other's backs when hunting."
The most skilled hunter from the Mullendore territory and the head of the Clynton family's hunters, with Gold Dragons in their pockets, knelt before the Crown Prince and the lord, and both sides swore never to harm each other—finally, a feast was held in the forest. The Crown Prince's chef contributed his excellent skills, and mushroom roe deer soup, roasted rabbit, and slices of sizzling grilled venison made those who attended boast to their great-grandchildren for years to come: that they had been treated by the young king.
"What was the king like then? As handsome as the sculptures now? Was his queen by his side?" the great-granddaughter asked, her eyes wide.
"Back then..."
People were curious about the beginning of the legend. King Rhaegar I, the famous handsome man in the history of Westeros, experienced iron and fire, love and tears, loyalty and betrayal in his life. The object of his affection would attract the most extensive research interest in later generations.
The dust settled, and Rhaegar, accompanied by Lord Jon, ascended the highest tower of the Eyrie. Looking out over the vista, he sighed, "This land is truly beautiful."
Jon gazed at his silver prince with fervent admiration. Rhaegar's silver hair was tousled by the tower's winds. Jon had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the crown prince's ear. The crown prince's deep purple eyes were more profound than the vast forests of cedar and maple, and they shone with a captivating brilliance that surpassed the Sapphire Bay. He was perfect, not of this world, and unattainable.
Rhaegar's gaze drifted towards the azure coastline.
"Jon, the Sapphire Bay is the only bay in the Stormlands that isn't ravaged by violent storms, isn't it?"
Jon nodded.
The crown prince's eyes brightened further. "Viserys told me that the fishermen in the coastal bays could try a method of cultivating seafood. He read about it in books from the outer continents. The ancient Valyrians even cultivated oysters, harvesting pearls like sowing seeds."
It was practically magic. Growing pearls? Unbelievable! However, Rhaegar's trust and fondness for his younger brother led him to pat Jon on the shoulder. "When Viserys returns to King's Landing, I suggest he formalize this method. He always says that practice requires experiments to prove it, Jon, can the Sapphire Bay be a place for teaching?"
Jon was willing to do anything for Rhaegar. Furthermore, he understood that once the little prince's unbelievable magic became reality, the Sapphire Bay, and indeed his entire Eyrie territory, would become the most beautiful and prosperous place, and all the fruits of that would be presented before Rhaegar.
Viserys once again gazed northeast: "Viserys should have reached the Riverlands by now."
Following that, his brow furrowed, and a melancholic expression of longing intertwined with his exceedingly handsome face, much like a god tormented by love—
He's worried about his brother, Jon thought. He hasn't stopped missing him for a single day.
The Crown Prince embodied the transformative power of this longing.
He looked into the distance, "Jon, I recall the Tullys are hosting a tournament to celebrate their eldest daughter's betrothal to the Starks' eldest son. I think I could make time to attend first."