In a medieval world with a touch of magic, where basic forensic science hadn't even been conceived, and no one could tell the difference between someone burned alive and a corpse that had been burned, Viserys felt he could do whatever he pleased. Killing The Mountain was undoubtedly another small step towards reversing the doom of House Targaryen, but it filled him with confidence and strengthened his resolve to continue pursuing his dream: his brother would ascend the Iron Throne, and Westeros would achieve centralized power. The power-hungry dukes, the throne of Dorne, and even the Night King and the Others, all of it would be swept into the dustbin of history!
Now, the resourceful Littlefinger was temporarily under his command. Viserys was pleased with his timely action of dousing the bodies with oil after they murdered The Mountain's men. He didn't even have to give the order; Littlefinger had burned all their blood-stained clothes, shoes, and gloves in the hearth that night. Cautious, indeed.
After that thrilling night, Petyr, as science would explain, had a surge of adrenaline. He found that the pain of losing Catelyn didn't seem so intense anymore.
Yes, he had killed a man, seen a true dragon, and a brand new future he had never imagined, a path to glory and success, lay before him. He had no time to drown his sorrows in Ale/Beer; he was focused on preparing to leave Riverrun. And so, Lysa, who had been secretly in love with him, never found a chance to impersonate her sister and sleep with him.
Lysa's hand clutched her chest tightly, her crystalline eyes gazing longingly at the young man with gray-green eyes as he walked towards her father and brother. He knelt on one knee and apologized sincerely – saying that he had acted impulsively and caused Catelyn distress, and that he no longer had the face to stay in Riverrun. He planned to go to King's Landing and take a position under the Crown Prince.
The Duke of Tully was pleased, and even more so when he heard that he would be serving the Crown Prince in the future, and he bestowed upon him gold dragons and servants, telling him that he would always be a part of House Tully.
A hint of sarcasm flickered in the gray-green eyes. But Littlefinger continued to act appropriately. He said that he would not say goodbye to Catelyn, and instead walked over to Edmure and embraced him, then walked towards Lysa, who was trembling all over. He reached out and gently stroked her auburn hair. Then, he gave her a brooch pendant.
He looked at the girl, who was unable to contain her excitement, and gave a faint smile, "Farewell, Lysa."
Turning, he left her with a bright, dashing back, enough to shine in the young girl's memory for years to come.
—Viserys told him to maintain his relationship with Lysa, regardless of whether she married, or whom she married. As long as she loved him, it would provide many conveniences for their future plans. He nonchalantly voiced the very thoughts Petyr had been secretly planning, and considered it perfectly natural. Petyr even entertained the crazy notion that he and the prince were kindred spirits.
No. The exquisitely beautiful silver-haired little prince... Petyr's mind was sobered by the ferocity and ruthlessness in the firelight, realizing what would happen if he offended him. He had investigated, and Gregor had been the one who injured him in a tavern brawl a few days ago. Crown Prince Rhaegar had already given him justice through trial by combat, but the little prince had decided to eliminate the root of the problem.
Mature and ruthless. It was clearly a glass of Tears of Lys to kill someone, yet it was disguised as blood orange juice—
Viserys picked up the glass, drank the blood orange juice, and saw Littlefinger staring. "Do you want some?"
He immediately declined.
"Alright." The little prince moistened his throat. "Now, I will officially tell you about the King's Landing properties under my and my brother's names. There are taverns and inns. Hmm, I plan for you to be in charge of producing ale, selling it in these shops. We will eventually monopolize the entire King's Landing ale market." The little prince confidently laid out the details. "Some of the earls around King's Landing will start expanding their cultivation of wheat, barley. My brother will purchase it in the name of the state, and after storing enough grain, the old grain from last year and the surplus will be given to you for brewing. According to the new steps I've told you."
The processing technology of the inferior ale, which tasted like horse urine, could be improved compared to modern beer.
—— Not brewed with barley. Instead, add water to the barley and keep it warm to promote germination. Use malted barley, heat with water, and crush to complete the saccharification. Boil the malt water, which contains rich hydrolytic enzymes, and after sedimentation and cooling, combine it with brewing yeast. A new, high-quality ale with a novel taste will be born.
"Remember the prices. Sell it at twenty times the cost in the high-class brothels of Silk Street. In places where nobles gather, like parties, at least ten times the current price. You can water down the product in ordinary taverns, and you decide the price. I expect you to do well. The accounts must be clear. In addition, every seven days, you get thirty percent of the day's profits."
Petyr knelt and grabbed the little prince's hem, swearing again, not to serve for money, which startled him.
"Let's talk money, then. Those who follow the Targaryens will not suffer losses in either money or status," Viserys said.
By now, Petyr was completely in awe of House Targaryen's true dragon. He was decisive and generous, unafraid of fire. The Targaryens came from beyond this continent, and their blood was truly divine! At least, they were demigods descended!
In the empty and quiet Godswood, the Targaryen brothers were once again embracing each other. Viserys lay in his brother's arms, silver hair cascading over his arm. The little prince noticed, with a sharp eye, that a strand of his hair was still wrapped around his brother's wrist. He felt sweet joy.
They were about to separate again. The Crown Prince was about to head south and return to King's Landing, while Viserys would brave the snow and journey to the North. He said to his brother again, "I will continue to write letters, and send them to King's Landing by raven. Brother, what I see is what you see!"
Rhaegar reread the letters he had written. Besides the scenery and local customs along the way, he admired his younger brother's acumen. The ideas of establishing "direct supply bases for food and meat" around King's Landing and setting up academies would undoubtedly further consolidate the long-term stability of the royal domain. Furthermore, Rhaegar could discern his brother's intentions from his criticisms of the dukes, earls, and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms. Reading his brother's suggestions for developing specialized troops to cut the legs of warhorses to counter heavy cavalry, and taking advantage of the many rivers in the Riverlands... Viserys, his beloved brother, Rhaegar understood exactly what he was thinking.
However, that would inevitably lead to war and strife. Rhaegar sighed, the ordinary farmers of the Seven Kingdoms, who put down their hoes and knew nothing but to follow their noble lords to war, were so innocent—and Viserys didn't realize this. Or, perhaps, he didn't care.
Rhaegar told himself that his brother was still young. When he grew up, he would be like Queen Alysanne, listening to the suffering and being beloved by the people. He yearned for a united and stable Westeros... He would strive to achieve this by peaceful means.
The early winter sunlight filtered through the branches of the Godswood, gently falling on the brothers. Rhaegar suppressed his sorrow at their impending separation, and urged his brother to protect himself at all costs, draping the ermine-fur cloak over his shoulders—which had grown a lot.
Viserys didn't want to part with the coat that carried his brother's warmth, but wearing it like this was too ridiculous. He lowered his head and rubbed against his brother, then hugged him tightly again, "Brother, don't worry, I have a coat, I'm not cold. As for you, Brother, when you return to King's Landing, try not to have a direct conflict with Father. In fact, Father is very easy to deceive. You just need to grasp his mindset: that royal power is above all else, and that the Targaryens are descendants of gods. Say some things that please him..."
His voice trailed off because Rhaegar couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He was reflecting on whether he had gone too far. His brother sighed softly, and his warm fingers stroked his temples, "My Viserys, I truly wish you could live a happy and carefree life—perhaps it's my fault. I was too compromising with Father, not assertive enough, which forced you... to grow up like this, and in turn, to protect me. I'm sorry."
Rhaegar's breath brushed against Viserys's face, and the subtle fragrance of the King's Landing dragon's breath grass intoxicated him—his brother's forehead pressed against his. Skin touching skin, it was truly amazing, he felt even more numb.
The voice that came to his ears was clear and gentle.
"I swear I won't let you worry about the struggles in the Red Keep's throne room for the rest of your life. I have a clear goal, and I will achieve it step by step, Viserys. I will cherish you and protect you with all my life, until death do us part."
Viserys was dazed, intoxicated, and excited. He thought his brother was finally going to make a move and control the mad king—how wonderful! He nuzzled his brother's face affectionately and declared, "Everything of mine belongs to you, dear brother. Because of you, I have always lived happily."
The two brothers confessed their innermost feelings to each other with sincerity and intimacy, then accepted the separation in this early winter.
It was just that when the Crown Prince left Riverrun and led his men south along the Kingsroad, he couldn't help but look back—he could no longer see his younger brother. Rhaegar was lost in thought, touching the hair braid on his wrist, and silently praying to the Seven Gods to keep his beloved younger brother safe and to return soon.
But the Seven Gods apparently only heard the half of "safe." Fate was unpredictable. When the little prince finally stood before him again, King's Landing had already gone through four different summers of varying lengths.
After the jousting tournament, the Stark Duke and Brandon set off back to the North, leaving Ned to accompany Viserys and Robert, who needed some time to rest and recover.
Ned wasn't as handsome and tall as his brother, but he inherited the family's long face and gray eyes. He was introverted and his actions were by the book, but Robert, a low-IQ brute, liked to get along with him.
Ned didn't know the little prince was sizing him up, secretly worrying. He imagined what Lyanna would look like with that face. Would she have a horse face?
His perfect brother and a horse-faced beauty? ... This shows his brother loves souls and inner beauty! Noble! And a world apart from Robert, who was obsessed with outward appearances!
Snowflakes continued to fall from the sky. As the river began to freeze, they finally set off again. Viserys put on his sable coat, equipped with fur boots and deerskin gloves. The sadness of being separated from his brother lingered in his heart. As they traveled along the Red Fork and passed the Trident, his face became as gloomy as a sky about to unleash a blizzard.
If he didn't deal with Robert Baratheon, he wouldn't be able to swallow his anger. So, he pretended to be a dutiful page, telling Robert that he would start polishing his armor and hammer for him tonight.
He was carrying a bottle of acidic liquid. Under the current conditions, he could achieve a drastic change in temperature—the metal would become brittle and corrode bit by bit.
"Is that so? Excellent." Robert was completely unaware of Viserys's hatred. He wrapped himself tightly in his deerskin cloak with silver fox trim. "We need to hurry, Ned. Are there any castles nearby that can shelter us from the snowstorm?"
When he heard that they had to reach Castle Darry nearby because the snowstorm would worsen, Viserys remembered that there was a member of the Kingsguard with his father, Jon Darry, who was from their family! It seemed like someone else was also important... Anyway, the Darry family was indeed a loyal Riverlands vassal of House Targaryen. Later, when the usurper Robert went north to ask Ned to be the Hand of the King, the Darry family still secretly preserved a tapestry depicting the portraits of the Targaryen kings to commemorate the past... A family like this, how could he not help them?
The Darry family's residence was called Castle Darry, small and simple. Their sigil was a farmer plowing a field. The warm-hearted Lord Raymon Darry, along with his cousin Willem Darry, warmly received them.
Viserys slapped his forehead. He remembered! Ser Willem Darry! In the original world, when Rhaegar died and King's Landing was about to fall, he was the one who took the Queen and Viserys to Dragonstone, and then, after the Queen died, fled with the remaining children to Braavos! Unfortunately, he died young due to illness, otherwise... if the original Viserys had been raised by him, learning swordsmanship, his personality and life might have been different.
Therefore, in the current Viserys's heart, Ser Darry had become a man more worthy of respect than the Mad King. His family – how could most of the male heirs die on the Trident? How could they all be slaughtered by Gregor?
With the intention of finding a future governor-general for the Riverlands, he enthusiastically took the initiative to chat with Ser Darry and his family after the banquet. He learned that their lands mainly grew barley, and the Riverlands had fertile soil with good harvests.
"Do you brew ale at home? Robert drank a whole barrel of the ale served at the banquet today."
Ser Darry nodded. In this era, almost every noble castle had a brewer, following the same traditional process to brew ale that was not much different and, in Viserys's opinion, equally unpalatable, that is, primitive and inferior beer.
"I read about ancient Valyrian brewing methods in a book, I'll write it down for you to try. Don't tell anyone else."
Anyway, the technology didn't belong to this world, so he attributed it to the Valyrian civilization. For gratitude and to repay his kindness, Viserys was willing to give the Darry family the key to brewing new wine and getting rich.
Then, he told the knight that according to this method of fermenting malt, when Robert returned from the North to the Stormlands, passing through here, he should be invited to drink it. If he praised it and wanted to buy it, remember to sell it to him at thirty times the price.
This… the honest knight found it a bit hard to accept.
Viserys immediately said, "This is to teach Robert some restraint, to stop him from drinking so much."
The knight nodded in understanding.
Restraint my ass. Viserys not only hoped he'd develop a beer belly soon and suffer from gout, but also wanted to drain the coffers of Storm's End. After all, Robert loved wine, and fine wine was priceless. He even wanted to build a wine cellar!
After bidding the knight farewell, Viserys returned to the hall. He found that Robert, who had drunk too much of the inferior ale, had already been helped back to his guest room by the servants. Only the gray-eyed Ned was still sitting there. "Your Grace," he greeted, "Castle Darry's guest rooms only have two sets. Please, stay in my room tonight."
"Thank you." Viserys casually asked, "Did Robert drag the cook to warm his bed again? I know everything – he's repeated it countless times on the way here."