In the end, Lord Staunton, his head broken and bleeding, was carried away for emergency treatment.
If he didn't leave now, he would likely die here.
Daeron adjusted his mood to welcome another group.
"Lord Brynden, we meet again."
Daeron looked him up and down. Seeing Brynden covered in the dust of the road, he said, "The Tourney at Harrenhal has ended. I wanted to say goodbye to you, but I didn't expect you to leave a step ahead."
Brynden, leading more than a dozen Riverlands knights, had been waiting on the side for some time.
Hearing this, he showed no timidity.
"I was rushing home to report the grand occasion to my brother."
Brynden had traveled for days and didn't care about his disheveled appearance. He joked, "Whether it's a trout or a black fish, we all have a side that cares for the family."
Daeron understood and asked, "Then you are here now on Lord Hoster's orders?"
He had actually guessed what the man was here to do.
Sure enough, Brynden knelt on one knee and swore a solemn oath.
"Prince, I see your ambition. If you do not mind that I am no longer young, I am willing to be at your command and sweep away all obstacles on your path."
Behind him, the dozen or so Riverlands knights knelt in succession.
Daeron's expression remained unchanged as he cautioned, "I trust your character and integrity, but if we encounter powerful enemies in the future, will you be constrained by others?"
House Tully was famous for its family unity.
He coveted the name of the "Blackfish," but that didn't mean he would tolerate sand in his eyes.
"In the past, I fought for ideals."
Brynden was unambiguous, stating decisively, "From today on, I will fight for you, to reforge the glory of House Targaryen!"
Beautifully said.
Daeron was reassured. He stepped forward personally to help the man up. "Ser, I am honored to receive your oath of fealty."
Brynden, however, did not rise. He remained stubborn. "Prince, please accept my oath and let me become your Sworn Shield."
If he was going to do it, he would do it thoroughly. No half-measures.
Daeron held him in higher regard for it. He drew the Obsidian Edge, laid it flat on Brynden's shoulder, and accepted the vow.
A moment later.
Brynden stood up and pointed behind him. "These young men came with me. Give them a bite to eat, and they will serve you."
Daeron wouldn't take his dark humor literally and mistreat this squad of Riverlands knights.
The Riverlands were located in the center of the Seven Kingdoms, historically a battleground for all sides.
Because it was constantly invaded by every other region, it was considered the weakest kingdom.
But this was incorrect.
The Knights of the Trident were world-renowned, representing the most elite troop type in the Seven Kingdoms.
They were similar to the "sons of good families" from the glorious empires of old.
They came from clean backgrounds and wealthy families, provided their own horses and equipment, possessed high moral standards, and were the best source of soldiers.
It was only their geographic location that dragged them down, leading to them constantly taking a beating.
During the Dance of the Dragons, the Riverlands army led by Kermit Tully and Benjicot Blackwood was unstoppable, slaughtering gods and men alike, piercing through half the Seven Kingdoms.
According to Brynden's introduction:
These Riverlands knights had all come voluntarily, following his name.
Several of the older knights had even participated in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
There were eighteen of them. Including Brynden, that made nineteen.
Daeron beamed with joy, speaking generously. "Follow me. I'm hosting a banquet for you."
These weren't nineteen soldiers; they were nineteen knights.
In Westeros, every proper knight could lead troops and charge on the battlefield, possessing the ability to stand on their own.
"Perfect, I'm starving and thirsty."
Brynden didn't stand on ceremony, following him into Bounty Hall.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
The Blackfish wouldn't let himself go hungry.
Barristan looked pleased. "Ser Brynden, we can fight side by side again."
"Aye, Barristan the Bold."
Brynden sized him up, his reaction a bit lukewarm.
Though both were legendary knights, they had chosen two different paths.
He looked down on the various constraints of the Kingsguard.
---
King's Landing.
The Red Keep, Small Council Chamber.
Bang!
Aerys slammed the table, roaring, "That damn unfilial son! He stole my dragon! My dragon!"
The ministers sat rigidly.
Varys frowned, deep in distress.
Just moments ago, Lord Staunton, who had been beaten into critical condition, was carried back to the Red Keep for treatment.
Prince Daeron had used facts to demonstrate that he wouldn't be easily deceived.
"Your Grace, please calm down."
Tywin couldn't watch this anymore.
Aerys immediately turned his spear on him. "Speak! Did you collude with Daeron to make him retreat to his fief and steal my dragon!?"
Veins bulged on Tywin's forehead as he fought to suppress his anger.
Damn madman!
I told you to name your second son heir as soon as possible, but you wouldn't listen.
Now that father and son are estranged, you come looking for trouble with me instead.
Do you think I'm made of clay?
Tywin gave a cold sneer, delivering a precise stab. "Not only has Daeron retreated to his territory, but Prince Rhaegar has also returned to Dragonstone. Both of your sons have chosen to stay far away from their father."
"Insolent!"
Aerys exploded instantly.
Tywin tossed his head. Scream all you want.
Aerys's eyes were bloodshot, panting like an ox.
But he truly couldn't do anything to Tywin; he was even a little afraid of him.
Seeing the King unable to find a way down, Lucerys Velaryon stood up and tossed out a document. "My Lords, I think now is not the time to discuss the two Princes. Please look at this."
Tywin picked up a copy and read it seriously.
It was intelligence from the Narrow Sea.
Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr had joined forces once again. They sent a Tyroshi admiral disguised as a pirate with the intent to occupy the Stepstones, and they were currently at war with other pirates.
House Velaryon of Driftmark, House Celtigar of Claw Isle, and House Grafton of Gulltown all relied on maritime trade.
During the fighting in the Stepstones, they had all been affected to varying degrees and suffered significant losses.
Lucerys looked grave. "Just yesterday, House Grafton's merchant fleet from Gulltown was looted. The sailors were brutally murdered, and three ships, along with their cargo, were completely destroyed."
"The Triarchy?"
Varys was the first to speak in surprise.
The Triarchy, also known as the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, was an alliance formed by the three Free Cities of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr, active around the time of the Dance of the Dragons.
At their peak, they had assisted the Greens and fought the famous "Battle of the Gullet."
House Velaryon, once prosperous, had been severely weakened by that very battle.
Lucerys was on high alert. "That's right. The Triarchy has returned."
"What is the reason?"
Tywin frowned, beginning to take it seriously.
House Lannister's fortune relied on two things.
One was the gold mines in the mountains of Casterly Rock.
The second was the tax revenue from Lannisport.
If the Triarchy occupied the Stepstones and choked off the north-south trade in the Narrow Sea, it would have a considerable impact on Lannisport as well.
Lucerys glanced at the King and said, "The specific reason is unclear. According to surviving sailors, the Triarchy seems to be guarding against dragons."
Dragons! A sensitive topic!
Aerys suddenly raised his head, shouting loudly, "Damn pirates! I will gather the army, march on the Stepstones, and bring the islands into the Kingdom's map!"
Another grand blueprint of his reign.
"Your Grace, the Iron Throne has no need to go to war with the Free Cities," Grand Maester Pycelle urged hastily.
Chelsted urged hastily, "Your Grace, the Iron Throne has no need to go to war with the Free Cities."
There was a precedent for war.
Except for the time "The Rogue Prince" Daemon Targaryen briefly conquered the Stepstones...
Every other attempt had been a loss.
The ministers ignored the King's unrealistic clamoring and discussed countermeasures among themselves.
Lucerys said, "The Triarchy has a formidable pirate, seemingly called the Smiling Knight. He's the one relentlessly pursuing the merchant ships of Westeros."
"A remnant of the Kingswood Brotherhood, barely clinging to life."
Tywin was dismissive.
He didn't fear some pirate or the Smiling Knight; he only worried about the Triarchy's return.
The Free Cities were incredibly powerful.
They had money, the finest equipment, and countless mercenaries hungry for gold—
As long as the rulers of the Free Cities were willing to spend, they could summon countless greedy souls to do their bidding.
The continent of Westeros looked strong, but it was hollow on the inside.
The noble lords fought their own battles and refused to unite against external threats.
Once the Triarchy completely occupied the Stepstones, driving them out would be harder than snatching food from a hyena's mouth.
The meeting lasted for over an hour without reaching a conclusion.
The reason was simple!
Not enough power to threaten the three Free Cities.
Lucerys was unwilling to give up. "My Lords, are we just going to watch the Triarchy occupy the Stepstones and do nothing?"
What else could they do?
Tywin didn't want to discuss it further. He stood up and said, "The news that House Targaryen has dragons again has reached across the Narrow Sea. The Free Cities fear the dragons; occupying the Stepstones is a war strategy."
If they wanted to stop it, the only way was war.
Obviously, the Iron Throne did not have the capability to wage war.
"My Lord—"
No matter how Lucerys called, Tywin turned a deaf ear.
Walking out of the council chamber.
On his way back to the Tower of the Hand, Tywin ran into Barristan.
"Ser Barristan, why have you returned?"
Wasn't he supposed to be in the Prince's territory, protecting Daeron?
Barristan wouldn't lie, but he chose to tell the less important parts. "I am here on the Prince's orders to pick up Princess Shaena and Princess Elia to go to Bounty Hall for the Flower Dance."
In reality, he was moving them out of the King's control.
Tywin questioned, "The Flower Dance? Why have I never heard of it?"
"A holiday established by the Prince to celebrate the completion of Bounty Hall."
Barristan only half-understood it himself.
Tywin pondered for a moment and said, "Perfect. My daughter Cersei is also in the Red Keep. Take her along to join the two Princesses for the Flower Dance."
He still held out hope for a marriage alliance.
As the saying goes: If the Prince won't come to Lannister, Lannister will go to the Prince.
What young teenagers lacked was time together.
Barristan hesitated slightly, but to avoid the Hand's suspicion, he agreed.
A short while later.
Barristan completed the handover with "The White Bull," Ser Gerold Hightower, and the two bid farewell.
Watching his sworn brother's back, Ser Gerold sighed, "I'm the only one left. I'm the only one left."
Seven Gods above!
When would they select a Kingsguard to fill the vacancy, find him a companion, and share the pressure of protecting the King?
At this moment, Jaime approached Ser Gerold to ask for advice.
As they chatted, Jaime probed, "Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur Dayne have both learned the advanced form of Vitality. You have been protecting His Grace all this time—have you learned it?"
"I have not."
Ser Gerold was a steady man and spoke the truth. "However, Ser Arthur wrote to me saying that when he has time to return to King's Landing, he will teach me the trick."
"Then—"
Jaime's eyes lit up.
Ser Gerold rejected him directly. "No. My sworn brothers warned me that I cannot privately teach it to anyone."
The conversation ended there.
Jaime remained where he was, looking at Ser Gerold's magnificent, wall-like back and the white cloak that symbolized honor. A wave of envy welled up in his heart.
His father was rushing him to marry again.
He wanted him to marry Duke Hoster's second daughter, Lysa, or else roll back to Crakehall to be a squire.
But he didn't want to marry the Tully girl, nor did he want to go back in disgrace.