She no longer hesitated or held back. Her speaking speed increased as she poured out everything she knew:
"His name is Young Griff; that is the alias he uses."
"His public identity... we were told that he is the legitimate son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, His Royal Highness Aegon Targaryen."
"When King's Landing fell, he was secretly swapped and rescued, and has been raised in secret until now. The man raising him is Mr. Jon Clinton."
"Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos provided the funding and sanctuary, while his well-informed friend in the court of Westeros provided intelligence and support."
"They have been plotting for years, waiting for the right moment."
"According to the original plan..." she paused, her voice lowering slightly but remaining clear, "Young Griff will be escorted by Mr. Connington and arrive in Lys within the next few days."
"To meet with Magister Dorian and finalize the details of their cooperation. He is to receive the title of Prince of Lys and public support here."
Aegon listened quietly, his face expressionless. Only his index finger, resting on the hilt of his sword, gave a nearly imperceptible tap.
"So, the Golden Company will come to Lys with him?" he suddenly asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
This would be quite a bit of trouble.
"No, Your Highness." Sa Melis shook her head.
"The Golden Company did not accompany him. They are still stationed in the Disputed Lands. According to the intelligence I gathered, the high-ranking members of the Golden Company recognize Young Griff's identity and claim, but it is only... nominal loyalty."
"What truly drives the Golden Company are the massive commissions promised by Illyrio and the land grants to be awarded after their success."
She added the most crucial point: "Only a few of the highest-ranking commanders of the Golden Company have actually seen Young Griff in person."
"The vast majority of the soldiers only know that they owe their loyalty to an exiled Targaryen bloodline."
After she finished, the room fell into a brief silence once more. Only the faint sounds of the city waking up outside filtered in like background noise.
Aegon's finger, resting on the sword hilt, lightly tapped the pommel.
"A fake." He spoke slowly, his voice betraying no emotion, yet it sent a chill to the bottom of Sa Melis's heart. "Relying on a fabricated background, a merchant's gold, a eunuch's intelligence, and a Mercenary company fighting for coin... he wants to steal my name and sit on the iron throne."
He looked up, his violet eyes like a frozen deep lake, staring directly at Sa Melis, clearly reflecting her pale and panicked face.
"And you, Miss Sa Melis, almost staked the entirety of Lys and your own future on such a... joke."
The color instantly drained from Sa Melis's face, and her lips trembled.
She wanted to defend herself, to say she was also a victim of the deception, to say that this was primarily Magister Dorian's decision and she was merely an executor... but all her words collapsed into insignificance when they met those violet eyes that seemed to pierce through all hypocrisy.
Everything she had previously longed for—elevating herself from a high-class courtesan to a woman of real power by facilitating this investment.
She had even fantasized about going a step further and becoming the partner of that Targaryen prince. Looking back now, it was so absurd it was almost laughable.
The object of her investment was a meticulously crafted puppet.
While the true Targaryen, the true Dragonlord, sat right before her, scrutinizing her with a cold gaze as if looking at a fool.
A massive sense of disparity and shame washed over her like a cold tide.
But immediately after, an even stronger instinct—that of an opportunist—surged from the depths of her heart.
The fake was already worthless.
But the real one was right here!
A living, dragon-riding true king who had seized Lys in a single night with thunderous methods, demonstrating unparalleled martial might and decisiveness!
He was the one worth investing in, worth staking everything on to win immense wealth and status!
Sa Melis snapped her head up. Her pale face flushed with an unnatural crimson due to her racing thoughts and suddenly surging ambition.
She took a small step forward, trying her best to look more soft, more helpless, more... seductive.
This was her most familiar and once most effective weapon.
"Your Highness... I was indeed... blinded by lies before." Her voice became low and melodious, carrying just the right amount of regret and admiration, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"I was like a foolish moth drawn to a false flame, until you appeared, until I saw the true sun..."
She lowered her eyelids slightly, her eyelashes trembling gently. Her body unintentionally displayed its graceful curves, and the neckline of her plain dress loosened slightly, revealing a section of delicate collarbone and a glimpse of skin.
"It was you who let me see the truth. It was you who gave me a second chance." She looked up, her eyes glistening with moisture, filled with adoration and a subtle, direct invitation.
"I am willing to use everything I know, all my abilities and connections, to serve you. I only ask that... you allow me to stay by your side, to make up for my past mistakes, and witness your true glory..."
Her words, her posture, and her gaze all conveyed a clear message.
She knew much, she was useful, and she was willing to offer everything, including herself.
This was the most valuable bargaining chip she could think of at this moment.
Seeing that Aegon still sat there silently, his deep violet eyes watching her, the ambition and gambling spirit in her heart grew even more fervent.
She bit her lip and moved another half-step forward, trying to close that heart-pounding yet seductive distance. She let her faint, carefully prepared fragrance waft toward him, her soft body leaning forward slightly in a subtle and inviting pose.
However, her movements froze.
A cold sensation pressed against the most vulnerable part of her throat.
The long, dark tip of dark sisters had been raised at some unknown point, steadily pointing there.
The chill coming from the sword's tip instantly froze all her churning thoughts and intentions.
Aegon remained seated in his chair, his posture hardly changed, except for his sword-arm which was extended steadily.
He looked at her suddenly frozen expression and the explosion of terror in her eyes, his voice as calm as a placid lake:
"I said I wouldn't kill you because you might still be of some use."
"It seems that is indeed the case now."
"Your life is spared for the time being."
With a slight flick of his wrist, he withdrew the blade, sheathing it smoothly with a clear 'clink' of metal on metal.
"Your treatment will improve, but for now, you still have no freedom." He stood up and stopped looking at her, turning toward the window. He leaned dark sisters casually against the windowsill, his gaze returning to the Rhis City-State as it gradually awakened outside.
"You may leave."
Sa Melis stood frozen in place, the cold sensation at her throat seemingly yet to dissipate.
A few breaths later, she seemed to startle awake from a brief nightmare. The color drained from her face, replaced by a flush of humiliated red. She bowed deeply and submissively, whispering in a trembling voice:
"Yes... Your Highness. Sa Melis takes her leave."
Using almost all her strength to maintain a somewhat steady pace, she backed away, moving toward the door step by step. Then she quickly turned and left, not daring to look back once at the black silhouette standing by the window.
The door was gently closed.
Silence returned to the room.
Aegon stood by the window, his gaze sweeping over the streets of Lys, the harbor, and the distant sea, but his thoughts had already flown far away.
The Golden Company... only nominally loyal to Young Griff, but in reality driven by commissions and Blackfyre-aligned officers.
Only a few high-ranking officials had seen Young Griff, and they were of the faction loyal to the Blackfyres.
Young Griff and Jon Clinton were set to arrive in Lys soon.
Jon Clinton... Aegon's finger unconsciously tapped the cold stone windowsill.
Information from his past life churned in his mind.
An outline of a plan, bold to the point of madness yet showing a glimmer of feasibility through cold calculation, gradually became clear and took shape in his heart.
The sunlight from outside happened to shift onto dark sisters, which was leaning against the window.
The blade, as dark as night, swallowed the sunlight, leaving only a faint, dark shimmer that flashed across his unfathomable violet eyes.
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