As evening fell, the sky dimmed into dusk.
In the council hall, two Kingsguard knights in silver armor and white cloaks pushed open the tightly shut wooden doors.
Leading the group, Viserys stepped out first, followed by the other council members.
Looking around, the expressions on everyone's faces varied.
Viserys beamed as he turned to the envoys from Pentos and Volantis, inviting them, "The banquet isn't over yet. You're welcome to stay and drink to your heart's content."
Judging by the scene, it appeared to be a meeting of close allies.
The two envoys exchanged complicated glances before agreeing.
But they weren't just accepting the banquet invitation; they were also agreeing to the strategy for redistributing the port tax revenue of Lys.
The Iron Throne wielded great power, and granting a century's worth of tax revenue was no trivial matter.
They needed to send messages via raven immediately to seek approval from their prince or governor.
"Your Grace, I shall take my leave now," said Corlys solemnly, bowing respectfully.
"You're not staying for the banquet?" Viserys asked.
Corlys shook his head. "I have duties to attend to. I must review the port tax records of the past few years and oversee the restoration plans for the port of Lys."
A ruler must prioritize governance over pleasure. Power was far more important than indulgence.
Hearing this, Viserys did not press the matter and allowed him to leave.
He did not particularly like the Sea Snake; not seeing him was preferable.
As the group continued walking outside, Rhaegar suddenly spoke. "Lord Otto, the matter of the craftsman registry has been scheduled. I will soon implement it in Myr."
"Prince, King's Landing is densely populated. I will do my utmost," Otto replied, taking a deep breath.
"Much appreciated," Rhaegar said encouragingly.
The feudal system of Westeros was deeply entrenched and resistant to change, making widespread reforms difficult.
Rhaegar intended to shape Myr into a well-regulated city-state, experimenting with a series of innovative policies.
The craftsman registry was only the first step.
Over time, he planned to introduce a military service registry as well.
Myr had a large population of landless slaves. By organizing them into registered households and granting them plots of land outside the city for farming, he could integrate them into society.
During peacetime, they would farm; in wartime, able-bodied men would be conscripted into the army.
This approach would solve the issue of survival for slaves while also addressing the lack of a standing royal army.
Otherwise, under Westeros' feudal system:
"The vassal of my vassal is not my vassal, the liege of my liege is not my liege."
The Targaryens had long relied too heavily on the support of various noble houses during wartime.
For a kingdom striving toward unification, this was an unhealthy practice.
Rhaegar aimed to follow the example of his great-grandfather, Jaehaerys, by gradually reforming outdated customs and implementing strategic reforms.
Tap, tap, tap…
Suddenly, a maester in a gray robe hurried over, holding a letter.
"Halt!"
Ser Erryk stepped forward, blocking the maester's path.
"Ser, this is a letter from Storm's End," the maester said respectfully, handing over the message.
Viserys perked up. "News from Storm's End?"
The Dornish invasion of Wind's Whistle Point had been a thorn in his side.
"Your Grace, one moment," said Tormund, exchanging a glance with Owell. The former took the letter and inspected it carefully.
After confirming it was safe, Tormund smiled and handed it over. "It's good news."
The letter contained Aemond's firsthand account.
It detailed how he had ridden his dragon and crushed the Dornish forces, successfully relieving the besieged castles of Raven's Roost and Eyrie Hall.
A lengthy and detailed report followed…
Rhaegar glanced at the letter and nodded to himself.
Aemond was mature beyond his years—far more shrewd than Aegon. A promising talent.
Viserys read the letter and laughed heartily. "Aemond and Lannino performed excellently. The Dornish cannot withstand dragonfire."
"Let me see," Alicent said anxiously, taking the letter.
With both of her sons on the battlefield, she worried endlessly, praying to the Seven every night for their safety.
Only after reading that the army had secured the route between Storm's End and Stonehelm, and that Aemond had set up camp in the rainforest, did she finally feel relieved.
Viserys nodded approvingly. "Aemond is leading his own force—becoming a commander at such a young age."
Alicent let out a breath. "I only wish for his safety. He is still too young."
Unlike the adult Aegon, the ten-year-old Aemond worried her far more.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he proposed, "Father, it would be best to resolve the Stormlands conflict as soon as possible."
His plan was for the Crown to send a large army while the fleet stationed at the Stepstones launched an offensive, pincer-attacking the Dornish forces.
He and Aegon would ride their dragons into battle and end the war swiftly.
Viserys, recognizing the underlying intent, hesitated. "You've just conquered the Three Daughters. Shouldn't you rest for a while?"
War was no trivial matter. Prolonged, intense involvement could take a toll on one's mind.
Rhaegar hesitated momentarily, considering the ongoing challenges in Lys and Myr.
Indeed, he was spread thin.
Jasper of the Stormlands then spoke up. "Your Grace, with the support of Storm's End, Prince Aemond is bound to drive back the enemy sooner or later."
He kept a close eye on the battlefield in the Stormlands, and Aemond had already made a name for himself.
With the support of the battle-hardened Royce Caron and Lannino, winning battles was not a problem.
Viserys hesitated, wondering whether he should send reinforcements.
Otto took the letter, his voice low as he said, "The letter states that the army has already approached Stonehelm, and victory is within reach."
Viserys felt somewhat relieved and ordered, "Still, deploy three thousand soldiers to provide support and speed up the war effort."
"If necessary, we can also call on Prince Aegon for assistance. There are stationed troops in the Stepstones."
Otto, ever the strategist, suggested naval support.
Rhaegar turned to Tormond and asked, "Any movements in Boneway and the Prince's Pass?"
The war across the Narrow Sea had far-reaching implications.
Braavos had only launched one attack before retreating, opting for a trade war instead.
Dorne had been holding back for a long time, and despite sending troops to invade the Stormlands, they had yet to achieve any results.
This was not in line with the nature of jackals and vultures.
If something seemed unusual, there was bound to be a deeper reason.
Tormond reported honestly, "Both Boneway and the Prince's Pass are heavily guarded. Aside from a gathering of displaced refugees, Dorne has shown no intention of deploying more troops."
Rhaegar remained uneasy and instructed him to send messages to Highgarden and Blackhaven, warning them not to lower their guard.
"The Dornish are always cunning. We must be vigilant."
As they talked, the group descended the staircase from the corridor.
Alicent walked ahead, holding her husband's arm, and said seriously, "The Maiden's Day festival is coming up in a few days. I've invited noble young ladies from various regions, and Aegon should be called back for the occasion."
The Maiden's Day festival was a traditional celebration of the Faith of the Seven, held every summer.
Unmarried young women would enter the septs to pray to the Seven for blessings.
At some point, it had also become an unwritten custom among nobles—a socially acceptable opportunity for young men and women of noble birth to assess potential matches.
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Rhaenyra.
Back when he was choosing a bride, his father had planned to use the Maiden's Day festival as a pretext.
Sensing his gaze, Rhaenyra crossed her arms and gave a smug smile.
Viserys approved of the idea. "Aegon is not young anymore. It's time he chose a wife."
His eldest son was already married, and it was only natural for the second son to start a family as well.
Alicent's gaze was firm. "Not just Aegon. Many nobles will bring their sons, and we should also consider finding a match for Helaena."
"Helaena?"
Viserys was momentarily stunned, feeling some resistance to the idea.
According to old Valyrian customs, female family members were traditionally expected to marry within the family to preserve the purity of their bloodline.
His father, Baelon's generation, had more women than men, and since one of them—Vaegon the Dragonless—refused to take a wife, many of his aunts had been married off, leaving the family.
In Viserys's generation, his cousin Rhaenys was older and had married early.
He himself had married Aemma Arryn, a woman of both Targaryen and Arryn blood, producing two children of pure Valyrian descent.
His brother, Daemon, had been less fortunate. With no available female relatives, he had been wed to Lady Rhea of Runestone.
It was only after Rhea's death in the Black Wedding that he finally married Laena Velaryon, who carried Targaryen blood.
Clearly, adhering to family traditions was a complex and demanding matter.
Among Viserys's children, males outnumbered females.
Keeping Helaena within the family was far more valuable than marrying her off.
With this in mind, Viserys lowered his voice. "We should at least ask Aegon if he's willing to marry Helaena—or we could wait until Daeron is a little older."
Respecting his children's choices in marriage did not mean allowing complete disregard for tradition.
If Aegon refused to marry Helaena, there were still other options.
Alicent was reluctant. "If we wait for Daeron to grow up, it'll take years."
"And? Didn't Rhaenyra wait for Rhaegar for years?" Viserys joked.
Since there was precedent—Rhaenyra and Rhaegar had a seven-year age gap—it wasn't an issue for Helaena and Daeron either.
But Alicent shook her head and firmly objected. "No, Helaena cannot wait!"
"Why not?" Viserys was puzzled.
Alicent glanced at Rhaegar and gritted her teeth. "I'm doing this for the good of our family—to prevent anyone from making a mistake!"
She could tell that her daughter had feelings for him.
Setting aside the rivalry between the Greens and the Blacks, Rhaegar was already married!
Viserys was no fool. He turned to look at his eldest son, then at his youngest daughter, and an absurd thought crossed his mind.
"You mean… Helaena…?"
Viserys was stunned.
"That's why I want to put an end to this before it drags on!" Alicent lowered her voice, trying to suppress her agitation.
Viserys fell silent.
He had never expected this—never in a million years!
Behind them, Rhaegar felt uneasy under their scrutiny, completely clueless about what was going on.
His instincts told him that this was not a good thing.
Suddenly, he felt an intense gaze on his back.
Rhaegar instinctively turned around and locked eyes with a pair of clear, violet eyes.
Helaena walked down the stairs, her hands resting lightly on her stomach, her head slightly lowered in a demure manner.
Every now and then, she glanced up with her pale lilac eyes.
When Rhaegar suddenly turned, he caught her gaze directly.
Helaena froze for a moment, her eyes betraying some emotion, then quickly looked away after two seconds.
Her movements were smooth and unhurried, showing no sign of panic at being caught.
Rhaegar withdrew his gaze, his mind uneasy.
Something was off with the girl—she was harboring thoughts she shouldn't have.
Out of his sight, Helaena lifted her head again, staring ahead at her elder siblings.
Her eyes were pure, yet her admiration carried a hint of longing.
She knew she couldn't compete with her sister—so she could only watch from the sidelines.
Helaena was innocent, but she wasn't stupid.
She was waiting for an opportunity—one that would allow her to fit in naturally.
Seeing that no one was paying attention to her, she muttered under her breath:
"A dragon has three heads…"
(End of Chapter)