The next day.
King's Landing, early morning.
Aemon sat in the meeting hall of Maegor's Holdfast, gazing out the window, bored.
Below was the godswood.
The crowns of the weirwood trees swayed gracefully, and a delicate lucky bag hung from a branch, its red leaves rustling in the wind.
"Luck +1..."
Aemon chuckled, feeling that the 88 essence flowers were well worth the price.
The lucky bag contained a small slip with one's name on it, and it refreshed once a day.
+1 or 0, the effects did not accumulate.
Aemon called them good luck days and normal days, eliminating the possibility of bad luck.
"Viserys I, here!"
The Kingsguard announced loudly from the doorway.
Viserys and a group of king's councilors filed in.
Seeing Aemon, Viserys smiled and nodded.
Back to today's events.
"Prince Aegon has secretly participated in the war between Highgarden and Oldtown, accidentally injuring Lord Garlan Tyrell while riding Sunfyre. His actions are egregious,"
Lyonel stood up and righteously impeached.
"Aegon has committed a grave offense. I ask you to consult on a solution that will minimize the impact,"
Viserys acknowledged his eldest son's mistake and hoped his ministers would come up with a plan to rectify the mess.
Aemon rested his chin on his hand, watching quietly.
He had appeared in King's Landing because he had rushed back last night aboard Vermithor.
Aegon had grown up, quietly accomplishing great things.
Terrible things.
Two noble families were fighting, and the royal family had rashly intervened.
Moreover, Aegon supported the nominal rebels, their blood relatives, the Hightowers of Oldtown.
The magnitude of the consequences was obvious.
More importantly, Aegon, riding Sunfyre, had crippled the newly appointed Lord of Highgarden.
He was the only remaining scion of the Tyrell line.
The Council was surprisingly united in both politics and public opinion.
Whether it was the royalist Lyonel, the Greens Otto and Grand Maester Mellos, or the Blacks-friendly Tyland, or the Sea Snake, Corlys, who formed his own faction,
all worked diligently to minimize their influence.
"I believe the first step is to control Prince Aegon to prevent the dragons from re-entering the war,"
Corlys insisted on drastic measures.
Lyonel scowled. "Prince Aegon lost contact the moment he arrived in the Reach, and now he's being hailed as a 'hero' by the Hightower army. There's no way to control him."
"I'll send him a letter, asking him not to get involved,"
Otto, despite his disability, remained resolute.
"It's your nephew, Lord Otto, who's stirring up the rebellion and instigating Prince Aegon to join the war,"
Lyonel questioned.
"Do you think I'm the mastermind?"
Otto's eyes narrowed.
"I simply think you should distance yourself from it to avoid unnecessary damage to your reputation,"
Lyonel said, uncharacteristically forceful.
This raised a question of the bottom line.
Once, Oldtown Hightower was powerful, allowing the Greens to do whatever they wanted.
But when they actively rebelled against their feudal lord, with an idiotic prince in tow, the situation suddenly changed.
It went beyond palace infighting to a matter of maintaining the kingdom's stability.
Today, Otto must be crushed.
Otto understood this, gazing at Lyonel, his calm face shimmering with turmoil.
"Enough! This is a court meeting, not a market for bickering."
Just as the two sides were on the verge of a fight, Viserys slammed the table, demanding a halt.
Fight, fight, fight! All you know is internal strife. If we don't find a solution, tomorrow some noble will rebel against the Targaryens.
"Apologies, Your Majesty,"
Otto averted his gaze, sighing, "I'm still grieving the strange circumstances of my brother's death."
With one sentence, he cast himself as a victim.
Viserys's eyes flickered, but he remained silent.
Anyone with a discerning eye could see that the spark for the war between Highgarden and Oldtown was flawed.
But that didn't matter.
The important thing was who would clean up the mess, which was growing larger and larger.
At that moment, Tyland raised his hand weakly and said, "Why not send a representative to first apprehend Prince Aegon, and then mediate between the warring parties?"
Finally hearing what he wanted to hear, Viserys hurriedly asked, "Who will go?"
Aemon turned his head away. Are you waiting for me here? You don't treasure your own sons? Why are you so indifferent to your nephew? If you can, go yourself.
"Aemon…" Viserys smiled broadly, about to plead.
Knock, knock, knock! A Kingsguard knocked urgently, anxiously saying, "Your Majesty, a letter from the Reach."
"Present it," Viserys immediately took notice.
Aemon's eyebrows rose, guessing the general content: Aemond had joined the war.
Given the distance from the Reach to King's Landing, a raven's journey would take at least three to five days.
The battlefield was ever-changing, enough time for much to happen.
And sure enough, it was.
After reading the letter, Viserys's face darkened like a pot, his breathing fast and slow.
There was too much to digest. It was better than expected, but also worse.
"I'll take my leave now,"
Aemon said casually as he stood up and walked out. "The dragons are involved in a nobles' war, and this involves the Dragon Clan Council's handling of the matter. Call me if you need anything."
With that, he walked out the door with a straight figure.
The ministers were all stunned. Even Rhaenyra, sitting nearby, was bewildered.
Turning her unintelligent brain, she made a bold guess. Was Aemon thinking about reasserting the authority of the Council of the Dragon?
...
Yes, that was it. As soon as Aemon left, he was already thinking about the consequences of dividing the Reach.
Highgarden and Oldtown were already at war, their relationship irreconcilable.
Next, one of Aegon or Aemond had to remain in the Reach, serving as the anchor for the royal family to divide Highgarden's power.
But just as in the current situation, the dragon riders' thoughts were uncontrollable.
They had dragons, so they could do whatever they pleased. If the royal family wanted to punish them, they had to respect the Council of the Dragon.
To put it bluntly, this was to provide the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms with a superficial guarantee.
With the Council of the Dragon as their backer, Aemon could legitimately serve as the administrator of the Seven Kingdoms, taking whatever he disliked.
In the name of royal authority, the rights of the nobility were being severely suppressed.
Do you think the nobles would see through this and rebel?
Without the Dragon Council, what would happen if a free dragon rider like Aegon freely intervened in the quarrels between nobles?
The royal family was wealthy and could afford to pay compensation. But facing a noble with a dragon, how many lives could you possibly have?
Ultimately, the royal family was required to establish a restraining force to guarantee basic personal safety.
The Dragon Council made its grand entrance.
Back to the Reach.
The Hightower army had turned defeat into victory, and morale had soared to its peak.
Ormund gathered the remnants of his defeated army, summoned a second wave of vassals, and advanced on Highgarden in a mighty force.
This time, the march was significantly slower and more cautious.
With a dragon's aid, any ambushes or city attacks would be a joke.
The Highgarden army had been severely damaged, and Garlan Tyrell's fate was unknown. Highgarden was likely in chaos.
He only needed to advance steadily, and he would be victorious in the war.
With this in mind, he traveled for three days.
At dawn on the fourth day, the Hightower army arrived at Highgarden, encircling the triple-walled white castle.
"My lord, shall we attack?" Lord Roxton demanded.
He was the patriarch of House Roxton, one of the great vassals of Oldtown Hightower.
His family possessed a long-standing Valyrian steel sword, the Orphan-Maker, which he now wore at his waist.
"Wait a moment. Tell the soldiers to set up camp," Ormund preferred to play it safe.
"Yes, my lord," Lord Roxton withdrew.
Then, Ormund summoned a knight and instructed, "Enter Highgarden and meet with Lord Garlan and Lord Thaddeus. Tell them that surrendering voluntarily will earn them leniency."
The knight's blood boiled.
After the others left, Ormund nodded in satisfaction, determined to seize Highgarden.
His father might be dead, but his uncle Otto was a high-ranking official, his cousin Alicent was the current queen, and his nephew Aegon had personally fought to help him.
Would this have a negative impact? Ormund cared little. Once the war was won, the maesters would plead their case for him. One must be open-minded.
The politics of King's Landing had been clearly explained to him by his father, Hobert Hightower, even during his lifetime. The king had never intended to replace Princess Rhaenyra. When Princess Rhaenyra's marriage to Aemon, the "Regent" who controlled the Vale, was arranged, the Hightowers had consciously withdrawn. A legitimate heir without real power, and a powerful prince without moral integrity. Between these two, what was there to fight for? The Hightowers would continue their usual slow-paced growth, waiting for the four Green children to grow up. Power, ultimately, comes from strength. A true king never insists, "I am the king." Hobert Hightower had a far-sighted vision. He anticipated that the Seven Kingdoms would embark on a path of conquest over the next few decades or even centuries. With the Green children and his financial support, House Hightower was destined for greatness. However, despite his scheming, he failed to anticipate that Aemon would concentrate power internally before conquering externally. Before he could realize his ambitions, he met his untimely death.
"Father, don't worry," Ormund's eyes were firm, his voice a murmur. "When I conquer Highgarden and become the new Warden of the South, I will be able to better support Aegon and elevate the Hightower bloodline to its pinnacle."
You idiot, Hobert might have thought. I allowed you to flourish behind the scenes, but you insisted on stepping out into the open to attract hatred.
Time ticked by. At noon, the sun was blazing. The knight sent to persuade them to surrender returned. He was returned in several pieces.
Lord Tarly, standing atop Highgarden, sneered, "Damn Hightower! Attack if you dare!"
Ormund, enraged, gave the order, "Attack!"
Thousands of soldiers, braving a hail of arrows, carried ladders and pushed siege engines toward the city gates. The defenders were no pushovers, meeting them with boulders, rolling logs, and scalding oil in a bloody and brutal display.
"Sunfyre, it's our turn to attack," Aegon patted his dragon's neck and enthusiastically climbed onto its back. He was a knight. With a dragon, he was a dragonrider. Yesterday, he had received letters from Lord Lyman and Larys in Oldtown. The former advised him not to join the war, but to return to King's Landing and admit his mistakes. You old, pedantic man, he had thought. The latter told him a story about how his cousin Aemon, armed with a dragon and the support of his maternal family, House Royce, had usurped power in the Vale. Aegon was struck by a sudden enlightenment after reading this, feeling elated. Could someone like me achieve great things? After Highgarden is captured, could my father crown me "Prince of the Reach"?
"Charge, Sunfyre!" Aegon's thoughts grew increasingly excited, and he even forgot his High Valyrian.
"Hurrah!" Sunfyre, true to the foreign language, flapped his wings and soared into the sky.
On the battlefield, soldiers from both sides engaged in a fierce battle when suddenly a massive golden dragon flew by. "Hail Prince Aegon!" the Hightower side roared wildly.
"My lord?" a lieutenant on the walls of Highgarden warned Lord Tarly to retreat.
"No need," Lord Tarly's eyes were deep, his hands gripping the stone wall.
"Dragonfire!" Aegon commanded.
"Hurrah!" Suddenly, a second resounding roar echoed, and a massive brown dragon soared into the air from the Highgarden gardens.
"Attack, Sheepstealer!" Aemond, dressed in civilian clothes, gave the order and charged forward.
Sunfyre blasted a burst of dragonfire at the wall but was caught off guard by the mud-brown dragon, and the two dragons tumbled and roared in mid-air.
"Ouch, what are you doing!?" Aegon roared in anger, his body shaking violently.
Aemond remained silent, gripping the harness straps tightly, allowing Sheepstealer to tear at Sunfyre. Just now, he had joined Highgarden's side. Recalling Lady Desiree's sweet kiss, Aemond quickly shook his head, flinging away the distracting thought. It was his cousin Aemon who had sent him a letter. Aegon had sided with Oldtown Hightower, a grave insult to the impartiality of the royal family. Even restraining him would not undo the damage. Aemond agreed. Garlan was a gentle and kind man, yet Aegon had burned him and left him crippled. No amount of compensation could make up for that. So, Aemond offered a suggestion: he would represent the royal family to support Highgarden and suppress the rebellion of Oldtown. That way, the royal family's reputation would improve. Aemond was hesitant at first, but the letter had mentioned Aegon's mistakes, the punishment he would receive, and the words "making amends is a great achievement." Aemond felt that brothers were meant to be sold.
"Let's go, Sheepstealer!" Aemond ordered his dragon to break away and flee.
"Follow them, Sunfyre!" Aegon, furious, pursued them. The two dragons vanished into the misty horizon.
"What?" Ormund was stunned.
"Quick, retreat!" he gritted his teeth. Without the dragons, it would be like an egg against a rock.
Boom! At that moment, the gates of Highgarden flew open. "I will be the vanguard!" Lord Tarly roared, holding high the Valyrian steel sword, Heartsbane, as he led a thousand heavy cavalrymen out in a stream. The offensive and defensive positions had shifted.
"My lord, you leave quickly! I will cover the rear!" Lord Roxton stood before Ormund, deflecting incoming arrows with his family sword, Orphan-Maker.
Ormund had no time to be moved; he mounted his warhorse and ran. Hundreds of his light cavalry broke through in the direction they came from.
Before leaving Highgarden's lands, a small team appeared in front of them. Ormund was surprised. When he saw who was coming, he saw a tall figure about seven or eight meters tall, the whole body looking as if carved from jade, holding a huge shield and a meteor hammer, blocking the middle of the road.
"What the hell is this!?" Ormund's eyes almost popped out.
"Fight?" the Emerald Giant lowered his head and looked at the small warhorse at his feet. A silver-armored knight rode the horse, and when he took off his helmet, the handsome face of Galwin Hightower was revealed.
Hearing the giant's question, Galwin looked helplessly at his cousin opposite, licked his lips and said, "Ham him!"
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