-Chapter 169-
-POV Aemon Targaryen-
I smiled as I watched Viserys enjoying the show put on by Cregan and Aegon.
'They've truly become formidable… for their age,' I thought, observing how easily each of them repelled the attacks of other fighters, using the force of those strikes to counter them with precision, almost as sharp as Valyrian steel.
'Once they have the muscle mass to support it, they'll be able to pressure their opponents with the art of the strong blade instead of the gentle one,' I thought, because the sword style they were using was a perfect blend of brute strength and the intelligence to use the opponent's own strength against them.
'Unfortunately, too few manage to master both due to physical but also mental limitations, as even mastering just one of the two styles I created is incredibly difficult.'
I had drawn inspiration from traditional swordsmanship and the water dance to create these two sword arts, adapting them so they could be woven into one another.
'I should call it the Dance of Fire,' I mused—only to be abruptly pulled from my thoughts by Viserys, who shouted when the herald had already stopped the fight, since Aegon and Cregan had formed a deadly duo.
Seeing the crowd of commoner warriors stomping in disappointment, I wasn't surprised—because that was the true goal of this tournament.
'To give the masses the illusion that they can rise, when the truth is that the outcome is already decided before the contest even begins.'
I wasn't inventing anything—dangling the hope of success before the people was a concept as old as time itself.
Watching commoners fail against young, unseasoned boys would only strengthen their admiration for the nobility. And we, one step above, would be venerated.
By letting commoners enter the tournament, my aim was to create a clear fracture between all social classes of the realm.
And if a commoner managed to prove himself superior to all those squires trained from childhood, he would enter my service to further elevate the aura of our House.
"My Prince."
I turned to see Ulf, who had returned with the man I already wanted to bring into my service.
"Your Highness," said the giant, bowing with a stiffness that reflected his deep discomfort at all the eyes now fixed on him in the royal box.
I smiled politely and nodded at Ulf, who stepped back and gestured for Hugh to come forward.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing before Viserys, who gave him only a faint smile, too focused on watching the third pool begin.
Seeing Hugh clearly waiting to know what I wanted from him—and for some reason, looking tense—I simply said:
"I imagine your time is valuable, so I won't keep you longer than necessary. I've been very impressed by your strength, and according to Ulf, you two are good friends. So if ever a position as sworn shield to one of my sons interests you, all you have to do is let me know directly."
He furrowed his brows for a moment before finally replying:
"If you're willing to grant one request of mine, then very well, I'll serve you until death."
"Perfect," I said, curious to hear what he would ask.
"What can I do for you?"
"Grant me justice, my Prince—for me and for my wife!" Hugh said, now red with rage, fists clenched.
Seeing Viserys flinch, I frowned and said, my tone changing too:
"Calm yourself immediately."
He seemed to regain his composure, and as more and more eyes turned toward us, he said, still clearly angry but trying to control his emotions:
"On the day of the execution, my wife died. She was raped and murdered by three men."
"Do you know who they are?" I asked, frowning in disgust—he had given a very specific number, which meant he surely knew the perpetrators of this vile act.
He nodded, and before I could reply, Viserys chose that moment to intervene:
"Did you inform the Goldcloaks?"
'Look at this hypocrite. As if he truly cared about the people,' I thought silently.
Hugh frowned and shook his head, then said, fists trembling:
"The Goldcloaks would've done nothing, no offense. These things happen often, and since Prince Daemon left, the Goldcloaks have become lawless—especially when nobles are the ones committing the crimes."
Viserys turned to me, frowning, as if it were my fault.
'He's not seriously trying to pin this on me in front of the nobles, is he?'
"Since I returned to the capital, I've already brought order to the mess left by my predecessor and purged the corrupted elements," I said, stressing the words "corrupted elements" while glaring back at Viserys—after all, I had removed his son and brother-in-law.
Viserys looked away without a word, and once he was put in his place, I turned back to Hugh and said:
"Unfortunately, you should have reported it immediately. We could have begun an investigation sooner. Now, apart from your words, we have no proof of what you claim."
"The proof is my wife's corpse!" he shouted, giving me a dark glare.
I frowned, seeing his anger rise again, and said coldly:
"That's the last time I warn you. Show proper conduct in the presence of His Majesty."
Hugh lowered his eyes without a word, and I sighed:
"Personally, I believe you…"
I didn't get the chance to finish, because Hugh threw himself at my feet, ready to shower me with gratitude—But I crushed the hope just born by finishing my sentence:
"…But that's not enough proof to condemn someone—especially not a noble."
His thanks were cut short by the end of my sentence.
He stared at the ground for a while before finally standing, mastering the disappointment—and probably the rage—he must have felt toward the nobility.
'He probably thinks I'm covering for them… just because he's a bastard,' I thought, noting his silver hair and dark stare.
"Very well," he said, rising and bowing before turning to leave.
'Without even asking permission.'
I didn't hold his breach of protocol against him—he probably didn't know better—but I called out to the giant, who hadn't yet gone far enough to miss my voice:
"Which noble?"
"A Rosby, and his two squires," he said, turning back, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes.
"You should've had him whipped for such disrespect," said Rhaenyra behind me.
I smiled, turned to give her a wink, then turned back around without a word.
'Funny how she can say that, when deep down she's thrilled to see me in this position… they're all enjoying this,' I thought, amused but unfazed—because I already had a plan to make dear Hugh the right hand of Viserys.
I ran my hand through my son's hair—he was still watching Hugh's back as the man walked away, eyes full of stars.
I leaned down and whispered:
"He's tall, isn't he?"
Viserys nodded, and I told him:
"One day, he'll be the one protecting you."
Viserys turned to me, eyes wide, and I put a finger to my lips.
He mimicked the gesture, smiling with childlike excitement.
'It'll all be over soon,' I thought, watching my five-year-old son, who already looked like he was ten.
'At this rate, he'll be a grown man by thirteen.'