Count Owen's eyes flickered, then quickly lit up with joy.
"Prince, are you returning?"
Count Tywys heard this and quickly stepped forward.
Daeron was even quicker, grasping the other's calloused hands, which had long been accustomed to holding a sword, and said with reluctance, "Uncle Tytos, I've truly troubled you during this time."
The other man was a strong, middle-aged man, who had spent years riding horses and practicing swordplay, a typical old-school nobleman.
"King's Landing is not safe. Why don't you stay in Ravenswood? You can leave after I knight you."
"I will plead your case with His Majesty."
Tywys was straightforward, saying whatever was on his mind, never beating around the bush.
Daeron gave a wry smile; the two of them truly clicked.
His calling the other 'Uncle' was supported by a blood relationship.
His great-grandfather, Aegon V, was known as "the King who should not have been King," and some privately called him "Egg the King."
The nickname originated from a unique experience in his youth, a story of a "wandering knight and his small squire" that would be remembered for generations.
After Aegon V became King, he married Lady Beth of House Blackwood.
By seniority, Tywys would call Beth Blackwood his great-aunt, and Aerys would call her his grandmother, making them first cousins once removed.
Daeron's relationship with the other could thus be traced to that of a nephew and a distant uncle.
Whether it truly counted depended on whether both parties were willing to acknowledge it.
Aerys, for one, did not acknowledge it, caring nothing for House Blackwood, a former in-law.
And Daeron's connection to House Blackwood was thanks to those messy affairs.
House Blackwood and House House Bracken were known as the "Bothwell families" in the Riverlands.
The grievances and animosity between the two families could be traced back over a thousand years.
In terms of their relationship, even if not a small skirmish every three days and a big one every seven, they were certainly incompatible.
The year before his elder brother Rhaegar's wedding, the two great families had another dispute, for whatever reason.
When vassals fought, it should have been managed by House Tully, the "Lord Paramount of the Trident."
However, House Tully's "Lord Paramount of the Trident" was directly supported by the Targaryen Family, and could not suppress two great noble houses of comparable size.
Simply put, their prestige was insufficient, and they couldn't control the people.
Lord Tully reported to the iron throne as per procedure.
Aerys listened for a moment, then promptly dismissed it from his mind.
If you can't even manage your own vassals, what good is a useless person like you?
The matter eventually circled around to the desk of Lord Tywin, Hand of the King, who found that House Blackwood was in the right.
When the Hand reported to the King.
Aerys was immediately furious.
Everyone says Tywin Lannister is fair and incorruptible, that a Hand is the true King, and I, the King, merely enjoy the fruits of his labor.
Fine!
You say House Blackwood is in the right, then I will specifically help House House Bracken.
He immediately wanted to send people to the Riverlands to take sides.
In the original story, it was precisely this incident that deeply hurt House Blackwood, causing the always loyal House Blackwood to not appear in the War of the Usurper.
If not stopped, the event would happen exactly as before.
At the critical moment, Daeron stepped forward.
Isn't it just taking sides?
No one understood taking sides better than him.
Aerys already favored his Second Son, and seeing his Second Son on his side, he agreed with pleasant surprise.
Daeron seized the opportunity to leave King's Landing.
Upon arriving in the Riverlands, he first went to Riverrun to drag out the feigning Lord Tully, then summoned the two families to meet.
He outwardly supported House House Bracken, fulfilling Father Aerys's abstract decree.
In reality, he ordered House House Bracken to return the pastures they had privately encroached upon from House Blackwood, and to pay for the fodder and the injured.
Would House House Bracken agree?
Yes, they would agree.
The royal family had already intervened, and Daeron had pushed Lord Tully to the forefront; no Riverlands noble dared to object.
This move naturally earned the goodwill of House Blackwood.
Daeron explained his intentions, appropriately brought up their blood relation, and was thus settled in Ravenswood as a squire.
After this incident, Count Tywys saw the King's incompetence and developed a protective feeling towards the young Prince, willing to lend a hand.
He harbored no thoughts of exploiting the situation.
All the noble lords throughout the Seven Kingdoms were currently placing their hopes on the renowned Crown Prince Rhaegar.
Count Tywys, who didn't pay much attention to the iron throne, also became one of those who looked forward to Rhaegar ascending.
"I'll be fine, Uncle Tytos."
Daeron squeezed his hand, signaling him not to worry, and glanced behind him: "Besides, when I return this time, Father will reward me."
Count Owen, who was glanced at, quickly nodded: "That's right, Prince."
He wasn't here for the first time; he had already conveyed the hidden condition in the Prince's words to the King and the Hand.
A fiefdom!
He couldn't believe the Prince was so bold as to demand it.
Count Owen just thought he had guts.
"In that case, I am relieved." Count Tywys felt much more at ease.
Early the next morning, Daeron packed his bags and followed the main contingent back to King's Landing.
At their farewell, Daeron grasped Count Tywys's hand, repeatedly urging him to take care of his health, to wear more clothes as the weather was still cold, and to be mindful of cold drinks.
Tywys, a tough man, was also moved and just nodded silently with a stern face... Five days later, the people in the procession saw the walls of King's Landing in the distance.
Daeron rode a white horse, in the middle of the procession.
In front was Ser Gerold the White Bull, wearing a horned helmet, flanked by Ser Jon and Count Owen.
"Prince, we are almost there."
Count Owen offered a water skin, pulling him out of his reverie.
Daeron gently shook his head, declining the kind offer.
Taking advantage of no one being around, Count Owen's eyes darted around, and he whispered, "Prince, His Majesty values you greatly, why would you ask for a fiefdom?"
For the Targaryen Family, being named Prince of Dragonstone was the symbol of the heir apparent.
He didn't understand.
The other actually gave up the Dragonstone he could have contended for, and asked for another fiefdom.
Daeron glanced at him: "Dragonstone is Rhaegar's fiefdom now, would he give it to me?"
"Uh..."
Count Owen was speechless.
Too lazy to bother with him, Daeron spurred his horse to create distance.
When he reached the front, Ser Gerold, whose demeanor remained unwavering, turned his head and nodded slightly to him, acknowledging his presence.
Daeron returned the gesture, without engaging in conversation.
Why ask for a fiefdom instead of contending for Dragonstone? Firstly, he didn't want to contend, and secondly, he couldn't win.
But as for the real reason.
Daeron's vision blurred, and a monochromatic light panel abruptly appeared, with five large characters in the center: [stardew valley Panel]
A system panel, his exclusive cheat.
Looking at the three characters "stardew valley," he couldn't help but recall a certain casual game that combined farming, gathering, and various other elements.
It starts by letting you escape the 996 hustle and bustle of the city, only to plunge you into the wonderful 267 busy rural life.
Seriously, just thinking about it, his body was already starting to feel that blissful sense of being drained.
And the activation condition for this panel was to own an exclusive farm.
This was the reason he asked for a fiefdom.
"Prince, we have arrived at The Red Keep."
Ser Gerold, who was accompanying him, spoke in a deep voice. Daeron looked up, and a weathered black iron gate came into view, flanked by vivid red three-headed dragon banners fluttering.
The Red Keep, they had arrived.
The Red Keep, they had arrived.
"Second Brother, Second Brother, I'm here!"
On the high, thick battlements of The Red Keep, a silver-haired little boy, seemingly six or seven years old, jumped high, cheering and waving excitedly.
Daeron chuckled, dismounted, and walked into the castle forecourt.
"Second Brother!!"
Soon, a warm little fellow ran and shouted, crashing into his arms like a small cannonball.
Daeron caught him steadily, held him in his arms, and smiled.
His third brother, Jaehaerys Targaryen, whom he had watched grow up.
His brother, whom he hadn't seen for a long time, was home, and Jaehaerys was overjoyed, his little mouth chattering incessantly: "Second Brother, you're finally back. Is the Riverlands beautiful?"
"Beautiful, green mountains and flowing water everywhere."
...
The two brothers got along well, and, meeting the gazes converging from all around, they walked into Maegors Holdfast.
"Second Brother, Father's temper hasn't been very good lately."
Walking down the corridor, Jaehaerys frowned slightly, recounting what he had seen and heard.
Daeron's eyes flickered slightly, and he said lightly: "It's nothing, he's angry at Rhaegar. It has nothing to do with us."
Jaehaerys pondered for a moment, then nestled into his brother's arms and remained silent.
"Hehe..."
"Come on, come and catch me..."
A burst of girlish laughter and playful sounds drifted over, attracting the attention of the two brothers.
Daeron lowered his head, and through the stained-glass window of Maegors Holdfast, he saw three pretty girls chasing and playing in the rear garden.
The girls were exceptionally beautiful, with well-developed, graceful figures, exuding youthful vitality accentuated by their delicate skirts.
Especially the blonde girl being chased, her skin was as white as milk, her appearance strikingly beautiful, and her green eyes held a faint charm, as if they could speak.
"Second Brother." Jaehaerys glanced and tugged at his brother's sleeve.
Daeron withdrew his gaze and smiled: "Don't mind them, let's go our way."
"Mm."
Jaehaerys nodded repeatedly, instantly regaining his spirits... The Throne Room.
A thousand swords of the defeated were forged by Dragonflame into an iron throne, its surface layered with sharp blades, and its towering steps twisted upwards, posing a risk of losing one's footing with the slightest carelessness.
The base was even more ferocious, countless swords forming a jungle of blades, both forcing everyone back and isolating the monarch above.
Daeron came here alone to meet his father.
On that iron throne, a tall, thin man with flowing silver-gold hair, his head deeply bowed and face obscured, sat in a cramped posture, muttering to himself.
Daeron couldn't hear clearly, but accustomed to it, he approached to listen.
Swish! Swish!
As he reached the edge of the blades in front of the iron throne, two Kingsguard half-drew their swords, blocking his path.
It was Ser Gerold and Ser Jon.
Daeron stopped and surveyed those present.
On the steps of the iron throne, a powerfully built Kingsguard stood, one hand on his sword, guarding the King.
After that, there was no other figure in white robes.
On one side of the hall, two people stood side by side, with a gap of two or three meters between their shoulders.
One was an old, hunched man with white hair, dressed in a grey maester's robe.
Grand Maester Pycelle.
The other was a slightly plump man with a shaved head, draped in black finery, his face painted.
The man wore a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his sleeves in front of him, and he bowed slightly as his gaze met Daeron's, appearing humble and polite.
Master of Whisperers, Varys The Spider.