Conflict Intensifies

Viserys spoke with heartfelt sincerity, pouring out everything in his heart.

When he finished, he gazed at his daughter expectantly.

He hoped his words would move her.

He wanted her to turn back from the path of stubbornness.

Rhaenyra's eyes reddened. The look she returned to her father held only sorrow and resolve.

Clearly, she hadn't taken his words to heart.

Tears spilled from her eyes as Rhaenyra choked out, "I never thought about that. I want to find someone who can protect me and treat me sincerely."

It was the first time she had revealed what she truly wanted, though she'd done so somewhat obliquely.

Ever since losing her mother, Rhaenyra had been consumed by emptiness and fear.

She didn't want to marry a man she didn't love and become nothing more than a tool on a birthing bed.

Her father had loved her mother dearly, yet when her mother suffered a difficult labor, he had still chosen to save her brother, cutting open her mother's belly.

She would never forget the day he ordered Syrax to breathe dragonflame and burn her mother's body.

Rhaenyra was terrified that the same thing would happen to her.

The husband she imagined was a tall, handsome, gentle man who would cherish her above all else.

That was why she had developed vague feelings for the ever-gentle Cole.

Viserys didn't understand his daughter's heart. He responded only to the surface of her words.

Thinking he understood, he said, "You can spend some time together first, then marry once he comes of age. You're both still young, with plenty of time to grow to love each other."

"Absolutely not! He's still—You don't understand. We can't decide his fate for him."

Rhaenyra shook her head again and again. She spoke of Rhaegar's fate, but in truth, she was lamenting her own.

Viserys tried to keep persuading her, but Rhaenyra covered her ears and fled the bedroom as if escaping.

She didn't want to hear any more.

Her father always found a way to force her to give in.

Watching Rhaenyra's miserable retreat, Viserys slammed down his cup and cursed her inwardly for being unfilial.

Everything he did was clearly for his daughter's future.

Three days passed in a flash.

The tournament grounds were bustling with noise.

Viserys sat smiling in the seat of honor, listening as Prime Minister Lyonel delivered his report.

"Your Grace, the Dragonpit has been thoroughly investigated. Based on the testimony of an elderly Dragon Trainer, we've confirmed that Maester Pycelle of Oldtown replaced Dreamfyre's chains on his own authority."

"The reason he gave was that Dreamfyre had a violent temper and often acted aggressively when the Dragon Trainers brought her livestock."

"He claimed that he had the chains shortened to limit Dreamfyre's movements and protect the Dragon Trainers."

Viserys turned his head at that and raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe such a ridiculous excuse?"

Lyonel shook his head. "No. The explanation is far too flimsy."

"Does that bastard locked in the dungeon have anything to do with this?"

Viserys suddenly remembered Menas, whose life Rhaegar had asked him to spare.

"From what we can tell, he had no motive to harm Prince Rhaegar. Maester Pycelle also said he looked down on the man's birth."

Lyonel spoke honestly.

Viserys considered it briefly, then waved a hand. "If he's unrelated, release him."

"That young man helped treat Rhaegar's burns in time. Otherwise, they wouldn't have healed so quickly."

Lyonel smiled faintly. "The prince's healing ability is indeed remarkable. I hear he recovered quickly. A Targaryen blessed by the Seven, truly."

After a pause, he added quietly, "Maester Pycelle is quite suspicious. I'm not sure what judgment to pass."

A cold glint flashed in Viserys's eyes. "The Maesters of Oldtown are servants of the people. If a servant takes his master's property without permission, what should the sentence be?"

"Should his hands be cut off?"

Lyonel answered at the right moment.

"Do that. If he's willing to go to The Wall and join the Night's Watch, don't stop him."

Viserys approved the decision.

Lyonel followed his instructions, bowed, and took his leave.

He still had plenty of state business to handle and couldn't stay long.

Once the Prime Minister had left, only Daemon and Rhaenyra remained beside Viserys.

It was the final day of the tournament, and most members of the royal family had attended.

Rhaenyra, who had been listening from below, turned around and said unhappily, "That bastard Maester nearly got Rhaegar killed, and you're just going to forgive him so easily?"

Viserys frowned. "The Maesters belong to Oldtown. No one can judge them however they please. Cutting off his hands or sending him to The Wall as a member of the Night's Watch is already no light punishment."

"Rhaegar nearly died because of him. He should pay with his life."

Rhaenyra made her position clear.

"We can't do that. Power isn't a blade for deciding who lives and dies. A king must uphold justice and enforce the law."

Viserys didn't want to argue about it further. He stopped Rhaenyra from objecting with a look.

"Hmph."

Her suggestions were always ignored. Rhaenyra snorted and adjusted her posture.

Daemon silently watched the father and daughter argue, the corner of his mouth curling into a self-mocking sneer.

His older brother was weak-willed. He had known for years how indecisive Viserys could be.

Viserys didn't notice his younger brother's disdain at all. He simply enjoyed the tournament below.

He didn't think there was anything wrong with the way he handled things.

A king had to restrain his desires.

He couldn't break the law for his own selfish ends.

The battles in the tournament grounds were fierce.

The charge, melee, mounted archery, and other events had already produced their winners.

Only the most important event, the duels, remained, with the champion still to be decided.

Under the gaze of thousands of spectators, the two finalists faced off in the dueling arena.

One was a tall warrior from Casterly Rock, clad in heavy armor and wielding a longsword.

The other was the dark horse of this tournament.

Water Dancer—Syrio Forel.

Syrio's swordsmanship was as superb as ever. His body was supple as a snake, and he moved as swiftly as a rabbit.

Every time he struck, he avoided his opponent's blows and thrust at weak points in the man's armor.

His sword's tip drew one bright splash of blood after another.

The duel was over in less than half an hour.

As expected, Syrio defeated his opponent and won the dueling championship.

Amid the cheers of the nobles and commoners in the stands, it was time for the king to award the prizes.

The winners of the earlier events collected their rewards one after another and received the king's praise.

Soon, it was the turn of the last-place finisher, Syrio.

Looking down at Syrio, who knelt on one knee, Viserys smiled sincerely. "I remember you. You said you'd win the championship, and it seems you weren't boasting."

Syrio replied respectfully, "Your Grace, Syrio would never make an empty boast to the kingdom."

"Good. I said I'd grant you one request. You may tell me what it is."

Viserys took his word seriously.

Syrio didn't hold back. "I come from distant Braavos. Here, I have no kin, no family, no honor..."

"I beg you to let me serve in the Red Keep, even if it's only as a dancing instructor."

"Why do you want to stay in the Red Keep? I thought you'd want to become a knight."

Viserys was greatly puzzled, and he grew wary of the man.

A skilled swordsman who excelled at assassination was not someone he could safely keep close to his bedchamber.

Syrio answered without hesitation, "Because of your eldest son, Prince Rhaegar!"

"Rhaegar?"

Viserys was completely bewildered.

Syrio said, "As your eldest son, Prince Rhaegar is unlike anyone I've ever met, both in character and in wisdom."

"It's a king's good fortune to have such an outstanding prince."

"I hope to remain in the Red Keep and teach the prince swordsmanship in my spare time, so that before he comes of age, he'll have mastered considerable skill and become a brave, formidable knight."