"My dear big brother, even you have troubles you can't solve!"
In an instant, Daeron understood the cause.
Rhaegar's influence was vast, but his actual power base was quite shallow.
The forces he could mobilize directly were essentially House Whent of the Riverlands, House Connington of the Stormlands, and a few opportunistic minor nobles in the Crownlands.
His true rise to power came from marrying Elia, which secured the support of House Martell of Dorne.
However, House Martell was a double-edged sword.
Rhaegar's foundation was unstable, and House Martell was already showing signs of becoming too powerful to control.
"Everyone here is Dornish."
Daeron's gaze was profound as he understood Rhaegar's predicament.
As his words hung in the air, the room fell silent.
Who had incited Oswell?
Ser Arthur's eyes flashed as he glanced at the silent Prince Lewyn.
"Daeron, why would anyone..."
Elia was still in the dark.
But seeing Prince Lewyn's demeanor, a series of possibilities instantly clicked in her mind, and her beautiful eyes widened.
"Is Uncle Lewyn targeting Daeron?"
Other than him, no one else had the motive or the ability.
Daeron looked down at him. "Prince Lewyn, have I offended you?"
Prince Lewyn denied it flatly. "Prince, I don't know what you're talking about."
Such things could never be admitted openly.
"It doesn't matter if you don't understand. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss."
Daeron continued, "But this time, Oswell took the fall for you. Next time, it won't be so simple."
Prince Lewyn's voice dropped. "Prince, are you threatening me?"
"No! I call it polite persuasion."
Daeron's smile vanished, and he issued a direct order. "Ser Jon, disarm him. If he resists, execute him on the spot!"
"You dare!?"
Ser Jon absolutely dared.
He stepped forward, kicked Prince Lewyn to the ground, snatched the sword from his waist, and ripped off the white cloak that symbolized his knighthood.
Prince Lewyn nearly face-planted; only Ser Arthur's helping hand saved him from complete humiliation.
Even so, his face turned alternating shades of green and purple. He felt utterly disgraced.
Daeron said coolly, "See that? Now I'm threatening you."
Everyone's expressions were priceless.
No one expected Daeron to be so bold, publicly humiliating Prince Lewyn.
Daeron wasn't afraid at all.
Once he understood Rhaegar's situation, Prince Lewyn was categorized as a potential threat, or even an enemy.
So what gives you, a Dornishman, the right to act tough in front of me!?
Even in the worst-case scenario...
As long as Rhaegar and Arthur didn't interfere, he was confident he and Ser Jon could fight their way out.
And Prince Doran of Dorne was a schemer; he wouldn't abandon his plan to back Rhaegar just because of a spat with a young prince.
"Ashara, help me back to my room to rest."
Elia broke the silence and left without looking back.
Ser Arthur looked at Ser Jon with a hint of appreciation in his eyes. Then, he scooped up the unconscious Oswell with one hand and left as well.
He knew when enough was enough.
Daeron gave a signal, telling Ser Jon to quit while they were ahead.
Being provoked by Oswell was annoying.
But getting the chance to beat him up and fish out the big fish hiding underwater—Prince Lewyn—was a massive win.
Moreover, he discovered that Rhaegar's political group wasn't a monolith.
It was roughly divided into two factions.
Those loyal to Rhaegar could be called the "Prince's Party."
For now, Ser Arthur and Oswell belonged to this faction.
Those represented by Elia, but actually manipulated by Prince Lewyn, could be called the "Princess's Party."
The core figure was Prince Lewyn.
The backers were almost certainly Prince Doran and the Dornish nobility.
"No wonder Father is so hostile towards Prince Lewyn and refuses to let him serve as his personal guard."
Daeron had gained valuable insight.
---
The Dragonmont.
With Rhaegar's permission, Daeron successfully entered the mountain.
Crunch! Crunch!
Daeron walked over the loose rocks in the natural cavern, alert to the dim surroundings and feeling the heat in the air.
"Prince, should we have brought more men?"
Ser Jon asked cautiously.
"No need. if there really is something here, more people would just be a burden."
Daeron shook his head.
If there truly was a wild dragon hatchling in the Dragonmont, the fewer people who knew, the better.
Otherwise, given his father's personality, he would definitely try to seize it.
Quieting down, they continued exploring the interior of the Dragonmont.
Daeron gained a clear understanding of this active volcano that had nurtured dragons.
The temperature was high, and the smell was pungent.
The internal caves were intricate and complex. Many rock walls bore scratch marks left by dragons, symbols of past glory.
Daeron also saw many traces related to dragon eggs.
In a smoking cave, he saw piles of weathered, petrified incubation nests.
To put it bluntly, dried dragon dung.
When laying eggs, a mother dragon secreted a thermostatic fluid mixed with dragon dung to encase the eggs, ensuring the high temperature needed for incubation.
Many of the nests Daeron saw along the way had oval indentations where eggs had been chiseled out.
It proved that these nests once held dragon eggs.
As time passed, Daeron ventured deeper, entering the underground caverns of the Dragonmont.
The temperature climbed to a peak.
Ser Jon was drenched in sweat. Even though he wanted to follow, he had to stay behind to guard the entrance.
Daeron entered the underground cavern alone.
One lap, two laps...
Illuminated by torchlight, the underground cavern smelled of sulfur, but there were no traces of wild dragons or monsters, only volcanic rock everywhere.
"Huh, what's this?"
Daeron discovered a pile of strange stones glowing with a reddish-purple light, somewhat resembling the ore in the mines.
He reached out to touch one; it concealed a high heat.
Daeron pondered. "Are these reddish-purple crystals also a change brought by the Red Comet?"
After a thought, he took out the dragon egg.
As soon as the red dragon egg appeared, it seemed to delight in the Dragonmont's environment, its scales gleaming brightly.
And when the egg got close to the purple crystals, its temperature rose, exuding an inexplicable sense of longing.
"Can these help you hatch?"
Daeron pulled out Neptune's Greatsword and tried to chip at the purple crystals.
But clearly, these crystals were as hard as the ore in the mines; the weapon couldn't even scratch them.
"I can't go all the way back just to get my Copper Pickaxe."
Daeron wasn't planning on leaving just yet, and he didn't want to leave empty-handed.
He noted the location of the purple crystals and went to explore other areas.
He still suspected that the Dragonmont held undiscovered dragon eggs.
After all, the mountain was massive.
If a dragon had laid eggs in a hidden spot, the Dragonkeepers might have missed them, leaving them behind.
As he walked, the dragon egg in his arms radiated warmth.
Daeron had a premonition.
This egg was ready to hatch; it just lacked some necessary condition, keeping it trapped inside its shell.
Like Daenerys's blood sacrifice in the original story.
Dragons, extinct for over a hundred and fifty years, needed a price to be paid for their return to the world.
"I will help you find what you need."
Daeron's expression was determined.
---
Evening.
Daeron returned to his room, dusty and travel-worn, ready to fetch water to wash up.
Knock, knock, knock!
There was a knock on the door. When he opened it, he found Ashara standing there in a blue-violet gown.
"Is something the matter?" Daeron checked the corridor; she was alone.
Ashara curtsied slightly. "The Princess asked me to apologize to you on her behalf. Today was an accident, and she hopes you will not harbor prejudice against all of Dorne."
"I have never held prejudice against the Dornish."
Daeron's "prejudice" was already a settled opinion.
And such official-sounding words—how much of it was true?
Ashara sighed softly. "The Princess is very sorry. She says she failed your kindness and is too ashamed to face you."
Referring to the gift that ended up in the "dog's" stomach.
That part sounded somewhat genuine.
Daeron leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a cold smile.
Ashara weighed her options internally, then spoke in a soft whisper, "I can give you a piece of information privately."
"Prince Rhaegar failed to find the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre. He refused Prince Doran's financial aid and is preparing to go to Braavos to take out a loan from the Iron Bank."