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Sunlight pierced the colorful stained-glass arched windows of the Governors Mansion, cutting dazzling light and shadow patterns onto the exquisite Myr carpet.
Aegon stood at the edge of the Governors Mansion terrace, where the high vantage point offered a view of most of Lys bathed in morning light.
In the streets, the bloodstains and traces of battle from the night before had largely faded after two days of washing, leaving behind only some charred thunder scars and a few collapsed remnants that were difficult to clear immediately.
Like fresh scars on the city, they silently recounted the brief, brutal conquest.
The air still carried faint smells of charring and limewater, but there were already signs of recovery.
A Bloodsworn retainer approached, carrying a gilded silver tray, his footsteps extremely light.
On the tray was a simple Lysene breakfast: sugar-dusted fried dough balls, a small dish of honey, and a steaming cup of goat's milk.
Aegon accepted it and ate silently while standing by the terrace.
The sweet taste melted in his mouth, but his gaze remained fixed on the small figures busy cleaning the city streets.
"How is the city?" he asked after swallowing a bite of food, his voice flat.
"Reporting, Your Highness," the retainer replied respectfully, "With the people of Hain and Rojar stepping forward to suppress and pacify, basic street order has been restored."
"At least, no one dares to openly rob or steal anymore. Some shops have gradually opened, though far fewer than usual."
Aegon nodded slightly.
"Tell Karl to keep the Skull Squad in line."
"Restrain your subordinates. No disturbing the populace, no private looting. This place will be our foundation from now on, not a hunting ground to be plundered and abandoned." He paused.
"Those who performed meritorious deeds should be rewarded—use gold coins taken from the spoils. But anyone who breaks the rules will face military law."
"Yes!" the retainer responded solemnly, but did not immediately leave.
Aegon turned his head and glanced at him: "Something else?"
The retainer hesitated slightly, then whispered, "Your Highness, the woman you previously ordered to be guarded separately and reported on once she regained consciousness... she seems to have recovered her senses. She started asking for water and to wash up this morning, no longer in a daze."
Aegon's motion of wiping the corner of his mouth paused almost imperceptibly.
Two days. The woman who had been deliberately spared at the edge of the destructive thunder finally woke up from the terror of imminent death.
Or rather, she had just decided to wake up.
"Bring her here," Aegon commanded, draining the remaining small portion of goat's milk. After breakfast, Aegon changed into a simple set of black casual clothes, sat in a high-backed chair by the window, and methodically polished dark sisters in his lap.
The cloth swept across the dark gray blade, and the intricate Valyria ripples shimmered faintly under the light.
The leather grip felt warm and moist, wrapped in a way that perfectly fit the curve of his palm.
"Your Highness, Sa Melis has been brought," came the report from outside the door.
"Enter." Aegon did not lift his head, his gaze still fixed on the sword spine as the cloth between his fingers slowly wiped it.
The door was pushed open and then gently closed.
Sa Melis walked in.
She had changed out of the luxurious dress stained with dust and fear, wearing a simple, light gray linen gown. Her hair was carefully combed and gathered into a simple bun at the back of her head. She had applied a light layer of makeup, attempting to conceal her exhaustion and pallor.
But deep within the eyes that were once charming and captivating, there lingered a shock that had not yet dissipated, along with a stiffness born of desperately trying to maintain composure.
Her gaze immediately fell upon the figure polishing the sword by the window.
Tall, composed, dressed in black with silver hair.
The image gradually overlapped with the silver-haired knight she had briefly glimpsed at the tournament, and the Bloody Dragon King she had looked up at in the ruins of the Governors Mansion.
Yet he was also more real, more... within reach.
Without armor or a cloak, just simple black clothes, he still exuded an invisible pressure heavier than steel.
His focused posture, polishing the sword, made it seem as if her existence as a living person was less worthy of attention than a single ripple on the blade in his hand.
Silence spread throughout the room.
There was only the extremely subtle rustling sound of the cloth wiping metal, and her own slightly hurried breathing and heartbeat.
Time passed second by second.
Sa Melis felt the silence was like cold water, slowly creeping past her ankles, knees, and waist... chilling her to the bone.
The composure she had carefully prepared, the lines she had rehearsed repeatedly, were rapidly disintegrating before this focused silence.
Finally, unable to withstand the invisible pressure, her throat bobbed, and she spoke first, her voice carrying a hint of imperceptible dryness and tremor:
"Thank you... Your Highness, for your mercy."
Aegon's action of polishing the blade did not pause in the slightest, as if he hadn't heard her.
A few breaths later, he spoke lightly, his voice calm and level: "Mercy?"
"No... merely that you might still be useful."
He raised his eyes, his violet gaze formally meeting hers for the first time. That look was like an ice pick, instantly piercing through all her feigned composure.
"Now, you need to prove that I was not mistaken in sparing your life."
He set down the cloth, his fingertips brushing the cold spine of dark sisters. His tone was flat, yet carried a sharpness that seemed to penetrate everything:
"I imagine two days of reflection should have allowed you to clear up some thoughts."
"And made some... choices, which is why you 'woke up'."
Sa Melis's pupils suddenly constricted, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on her back.
He saw through her.
Naturally, she hadn't spent these two days in mere chaotic fear.
She had been frantically thinking, piecing things together, and deducing.
The silver-haired, violet-eyed figure riding the giant dragon, the name "Aegon Targaryen," the thunderous methods used to destroy the Governors Mansion, and the investment scheme she knew was imminent... even if the answer was absurd and dramatic, she had no choice but to accept it.
The person before her was the real one.
And the investment she had poured her heart into, even staking her future ambitions on pushing forward—the beautiful dream she thought would elevate her to a woman of power.
It had been a phantom built on bubbles from the very start.
"What does Your Highness wish to know?" she asked, stabilizing her breath.
"Tell me about it..." Aegon gently rested dark sisters on the floor, crossing his hands over the hilt, leaning back slightly, but his gaze remained locked onto her.
"Everything you know about the 'Aegon Targaryen' who is supposedly coming to Lys seeking investment."
Sa Melis's body tightened almost imperceptibly. He knew.
He truly knew everything.
The plan she had poured all her ambition and expectation into was likely no secret to him long ago.
Now, her value as an insider depended on how many unknown details she could reveal, and... her attitude.
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