"Hmm?"
Aemon turned his head, slightly dissatisfied.
You old man, why are you calling me king?
"I think we can talk alone."
Otto said calmly.
Aemon frowned slightly and shook Rhaenyra's hand to reassure her.
Rhaenyra glanced at Otto and made room for them.
After the others walked into the corridor, only Aemon and Otto were left at the door of the hall.
Aemon raised his eyebrows and motioned for him to speak.
Otto's face was serious, and he said: "Prince Aemon, Aegon and the others are young and ignorant. In the future, we will pave the way for them. I hope you can stay out of it."
"We! Who is 'we'?"
Aemon laughed outright.
Otto said seriously, "Viserys and Alicent are the children's parents, the ones who most want them to succeed."
"Oh, really?"
Aemon's smile widened. "Is that all?"
"Of course not,"
Otto said with a faint smile. "For example, Aegon and Aemond have a very good relationship as brothers. They will each give in to each other when it comes to marriage, and there won't be the conflict you imagine."
"You really think so?"
Aemon asked in astonishment.
"Aegon and his sons are the best children,"
Otto said confidently.
Meanwhile, in the Dragonpit,
the two children he was referring to were facing each other with gloomy faces, their fists clenched.
"Please calm down, my princes."
The nervous dragon handlers stepped between the brothers to dissuade them.
"Get out of the way!"
Aegon pushed aside the female dragon handler who was blocking his way and stormed forward.
"You're a coward, Aegon,"
Aemond shouted, unyielding.
"Sometimes, I really doubt your judgment,"
Aemon said calmly.
Otto straightened his chest and said confidently, "My knowledge and experience in governing are renowned in the Seven Kingdoms, so I do have some foresight."
"As you wish. Anything else?"
Aemon asked.
"That's all for now."
Otto, believing himself to be courteous, nodded in thanks. "As before, please don't interfere with Aegon and the others. The King and Queen will be deeply grateful."
"No hurry,"
Aemon said, blocking the way. He suddenly asked, "Lord Otto, how old are you?"
Otto replied, "I am three years older than His Majesty."
Viserys was 44, which meant he was 47.
"Very good!"
Aemon nodded contentedly.
"Nothing, I'll just..."
Otto's words stopped abruptly.
A large hand appeared, instantly pressing against his face, shoving him to the hard floor.
BANG!
Otto's tall figure fell backward, still gliding upright in the air, his head hitting the ground with a thud.
"How can you be fine? You're in big trouble,"
Aemon said in a gentle voice.
Otto felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, his mind going blank.
Then, a large hand grabbed his collar and yanked his upper body upwards. "Aemon!"
Rhaenyra, who had been watching, exclaimed in shock.
As she watched, Otto was lifted into the air, his face wrinkled in pain, and then a slap hit his face.
SMACK!
SMACK!
"Who gave you the nerve, old man?"
"Warning me? Are you worthy?"
"Ask your brother, Hobert Hightower, if he dares me to breathe."
Aemon's tone grew colder as he spoke, his hands moving without slowing down.
Otto's ears were ringing. He instinctively reached out to block the blow, but like a drowning man, his legs were the only thing left to do.
Bang!
Viserys turned hastily to see Otto being thrown back into the meeting hall like a sack.
A tall figure with silver hair and black clothes entered the hall, picked up a solid wooden chair used for the meeting, and raised it high.
"Quick, stop him!"
Viserys was stunned, completely confused.
The Kingsguard beside him reacted quickly, rushing out the moment he turned his head, like two silver shadows.
Before Otto could even catch his breath, his rapidly swollen eyes opened a crack, and he saw a solid wooden chair growing larger and larger.
Bang!
The solid wood struck flesh through clothing, making a muffled, resonant sound.
Aemon's eyes were cold, as if he were looking at a dead dog on the side of the road.
The solid wooden chair was lifted again and again, slamming down on the hunched Otto.
"Your Highness!"
Two Kingsguards swooped in.
Bang! Crash!
The solid wooden chair swung back, hitting Otto's kneeling waist and thighs in succession. The final powerful recoil sent shards flying.
The sound of the wood splintering was crisp, mixed with another kind of crisp crack.
Otto felt his thighs momentarily go numb, then his body was struck by a force like a bull wrestling, a sense of weightlessness washed over him.
Before a Kingsguard could grab hold of him, Aemon kicked the prone Otto in the chest.
With his hair disheveled, Otto flew backward like a kite with its string cut, barely coming to a stop after knocking over a series of chairs at the conference table.
"Your Highness, stop!"
"Don't be impulsive."
Ser Harold's face was stern, and he tightly embraced His Highness's upper body.
Another Kingsguard slid to his knees and bound His Highness's legs.
Seeing this, Aemon stopped in time.
"Aemon, what are you doing!"
Viserys realized it belatedly and rushed over. Before the others could see what was happening, Lord Justice Otto had already collapsed to the ground, convulsing with blood pouring from his mouth.
"Let go!"
Aemon shuddered, shaking off the Kingsguard who had embraced him. He said calmly, "This is the Red Keep. Don't do this to me."
"Maester, call the maester!"
Viserys shouted, rushing over to check on Otto.
Unconscious, foaming at the mouth, he was pinned down by the fallen chair.
Viserys's face sank. He stood up, grabbed his nephew by the collar, and roared, "Damn you, look what you've done!"
He was a Lord Chamberlain and the father of Queen Alicent.
He was beaten to a pulp in court, his life or death uncertain.
Aemon was unusually calm, tilting his head back to avoid the spit. "Your Majesty, don't you see what Otto is up to?"
Viserys was stunned.
He knew Otto's intentions well. He wanted to use his children to gain more power.
But whether it was Aegon and Helena or Aemond marrying the Dornish princess, all these conspiracies were based on strengthening the Green Party, or rather, the royal family.
That's why Viserys tolerated it.
"Rhaenyra is your heir. Is there something about her that worries you?"
Aemon's question was extremely sharp.
Viserys was stunned and speechless.
Aemon's eyes were as sharp as a falcon, and he said in High Valyrian: "I am not Daemon or the Sea Snake. They tolerate a jumping clown, and I refuse."
No matter what tacit understanding the other party has with Otto, he is not willing to be a part of the play between the monarch and his subjects.
Gentleness and casualness are just his attitude towards life.
The Vale and many territories were not negotiated in a whisper, but fought for with real swords and guns with swords at the waist and dragons at the crotch.
"You..."
Viserys's Adam's apple rolled up and down, and he couldn't say a complete sentence.
"Father, Otto was rude first."
Rhaenyra rushed over, prying her father's hands away, and threw herself before Aemon, her arms spread wide like a hen protecting her chicks.
Seeing the nervous Rhaenyra, Aemon's lips curled up.
"You, you all,"
Viserys said, fuming.
The ministers were hushed, terrified to meddle in the king's household affairs.
Tramp, tramp, tramp...
Just then, hurried footsteps came from around the corner of the corridor.
A dusty young dragon handler ran over and said anxiously in High Valyrian, "Dragonpit! The two princes are fighting."
Viserys ignored them. "Let them fight! They're not going to kill anyone."
Then, the young dragon handler's voice trembled with fear: "Sunfyre and Sheepstealer have been released. The Dragonpit is out of control."
With a swish, Aemon's face changed drastically, and he pushed past the wary Kingsguard and ran.
Dragonfighting is no joke.
A Dragonpit is nothing more than a stone structure with a heavy, round dome.
If the dome collapsed, both dragons would be crushed to death.
Vermithor and his men were in the dragon pit beneath the dragon's lair, and with the passage leading directly to the main hall blocked, they were effectively buried alive.
"No! Hurry!"
Viserys froze for a moment, then leaped up even more excitedly than before.
The Dragonpit couldn't be lost.
Inside the Dragonpit.
"Prince Aegon, please stop this immediately."
The elderly dragon handler, a look of distress on his face, bamboo staff in hand, surrounded the giant dragon, Sunfyre.
"Hurry!"
Sunfyre propped itself up on its wings and quickly crawled away, whipping up a gust of wind.
Aegon's face flushed with rage, his only thought being to teach his idiot brother a lesson.
"Dragonfire, Sheepstealer!"
Aemond hadn't even climbed onto the dragon's back, but beneath his icy expression, a murderous intent even greater than Aegon's.
"Hurry!"
The ugly mud dragon's vertical pupils flashed a sly glint. He waited for the golden dragon to approach, then unleashed a stream of brown dragonfire, resembling flecks of mud.
Hatred met, and jealousy reigned supreme.
Sunfyre, utterly disgusted with the monstrous creatures that had robbed him of his treasure and harmed him, raised his head to block the rider on his back. His pale pink wings rose and fell, forcing him into the fray, pierced by dragonfire.
Zila!
Fine, brown dragonfire rained down like a shower, burning tiny holes in the gorgeous pale pink membranes and suddenly raising the temperature in the Dragonpit.
"Attack, Sunfyre!"
Aegon briefly lost his vision, then focused on his attack.
Sunfyre roared, his golden body crawling like a fireworm, golden dragonfire gushing from his mouth as he ran.
Boom—
the two dragons collided, tearing at each other frantically.
"Ahhh!"
Aegon screamed, his body twisting upside down.
Sunfyre seized the initiative, grabbing the Sheepstealer by the throat. The claws of his forelimbs clasped the dragon's neck, wrapping the entire dragon around him.
The Sheepstealer acted decisively, using his three-fold size to prop himself up on two feet. He slammed the golden dragon into the ground, ripping its golden scales with his wings and claws.
Suddenly, the Dragonpit erupted in roars.
Gold and brown mixed together, crashing mindlessly against the walls, crushing the brazier steps and sending surging pillars of ferocious flames surging forth.
"Quick, get Prince Aemond out!"
The elderly dragon keeper's head exploded, pushing the stunned Aemond to a younger dragon keeper.
He himself, fearing no time, rushed into the nearest dragon pit.
Seeing this, the other dragon keepers understood.
They found the dragon's imprisonment pit, unleashed its chains, and released them all.
With a rumble—
the bronze gates of the Dragonpit slowly opened, letting in sunlight and dispelling the gloomy shadows.
"Hiss!"
"Hiss..."
Young dragons flew out of the Dragonpit, some soaring into the blue sky outside the pit, others circling the two giant dragons.
Sharp screams echoed, like a dragon riot.
"Sheepstealer! Stealer..."
Aemond knew fear, but his cries proved futile.
Sheepstealers are cunning and cowardly.
But that doesn't mean they lack the ferocity of a wild dragon.
Facing Sunfyre, three times his size, they launched a frenzied attack.
Sunfyre appeared weak, but in reality, she had bitten the opponent's neck and maintained absolute control.
Aegon's initial joy faded.
Sunfyre was wounded, his body torn apart and crushed uncontrollably, putting Aegon on the dragon's back in danger.
The most dangerous moment was when Sunfyre's back slammed into the ground, nearly crushing Aegon in the saddle.
Fortunately, the dragon saddle was cleverly installed, positioned at the junction of the dragon's neck and back, with an inward curve ensuring a safe space for the saddle.
"No, no, no!"
Sunfyre was tackled and ravaged once again. Aegon's eyes widened as he let out a horrified cry.
"Dragons are not slaves."
The old dragon handler retreated helplessly into a corner, his heart filled with pain.
Someone had lost their sense of awe, leading to the scene of dragons slaughtering each other.
"What are you doing!?"
Aemon appeared at the Dragonpit gate.
"Sheepstealer, Sunfyre, out of control!"
Aemon's face was pale, and he kept repeating tremblingly.
Boom—
the Dragonpit restricted the dragon's aerial combat capabilities, and the Sheepstealer tumbled and scrambled, hitting a pillar of the hall.
Smoke and dust rose, and debris flew.
The thick pillar, which could be hugged by two men, collapsed with a loud bang, causing the Dragonpit hall to shake violently, and the dome was in danger.
The old dragon handler fell to the ground, almost being hit by a huge rock.
Looking up, smoke and dust obscured his vision.
"Roar..."
Suddenly, a deep, drum-like dragon roar echoed from the dragon pit behind him, accompanied by the resounding crash of a massive object.
A hazy outline emerged from the dust.
Vermithor's copper-foil pupils were cold, and his mountain-like bronze form gradually emerged. Sharp claws tore through the dust, easily shattering the solid black stone slabs.
The two battling dragons were like ants before a tree.
Viserys and his companions hurried over, just in time to witness the bronze dragon's appearance.
"Hiss—"
Vermithor stretched his neck and let out a thunderous roar.
An invisible sense of oppression emanated, instantly engulfing the entire place.
The young dragons, soaring aimlessly, shuddered and fled in panic, some nearly falling from the air.
The two dragons in the center of the hall also paused their biting movements, instinctively wanting to submit.
"Dragon! Dragon King!"
The elderly dragon handler crouched on the ground, his pupils dilated with shock.
A figure with silver hair and purple eyes entered his blurry vision.
Aemon's face was icy, and with the skill of a binding spell, he shouted, "Stop the war!"
"Gah!"
The Sheepstealer's heart trembled. Driven by the wild dragon's survival instinct, he withdrew his attack and crawled to the ground.
Sunfyre was relentless, dragon blood flowing through his vertical pupils as he bit the opponent's throat.
Within minutes, his pitch-black fangs sank deep into the flesh beneath the muddy brown scales, making a crunching sound.
Aemon saw this and shouted decisively, "Attack!"
The next second, a thick bronze dragon tail swept through the dust, lashing out with lightning speed at Sunfyre, knocking him loose and causing him to tumble.
"Hiss!"
The Sheepstealer, irritated, spread his wings, ready to take advantage of the situation.
Boom—
just as it turned around, Vermithor's ferocious dragon kiss attacked, and he bit its throat with his dragon head.
The Sheepstealer's eyes went dark.
Vermithor held his head high, grabbed the throat of the Sheepstealer who was nearly twice his size and dragged him, and his dragon head shook and fell heavily to the ground.
Then he rushed forward and easily subdued him.
His movements were so swift, like an eagle hunting a sparrow.
"Roar..."
Vermithor was furious, and his bronze-bright pupils glanced at the approaching driver, ready to bite the Sheepstealer's neck at any time.
Aemon stepped over the gravel and walked to the center of the hall.
---------------
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