A Strange Dream

Shayani whispered, "Mother doesn't like you."

"..."

When no one answered, Shayani added, "She only loves our two younger brothers."

A thirty-six-degree person—how could she say something so cold?

Daeren pressed a hand to his forehead, struck by a sudden headache.

But Shayani was right. Their mother, Rhaella, only cared about Little Jay and Viserys. She had no one else in her eyes.

Especially Daeren, the second son so favored by her husband. She never showed him any kindness.

"I know. Still, I should go see her."

Daeren's tone was helpless.

How could he not know he was pressing a warm face against a cold ass? But she was still the mother who had raised him.

Shayani did not answer and quietly continued her embroidery.

She had never cared about such things. She simply did not want to see her brother suffer.

"Does she still come to see you every other day?" Daeren changed the subject.

Shayani remained silent, immersed in her own world.

Seeing this, Daeren stopped bothering her. He walked alone to the sitting room window, where sunlight shone through the glass onto an easel.

He washed his brushes, mixed his paints, and began to paint.

When Jaeherys saw his brother painting, his eyes lit up, and he hurried over.

Viserys was like a pig that had yet to gain sentience. Standing on tiptoe, he took cookies from his elder sister's table and stuffed them into his mouth, scattering crumbs everywhere.

No one scolded him this time. After all, his siblings had always thought he was mentally disabled.

Within the tense Red Keep, the four siblings rarely got along so harmoniously. The two older ones embroidered and painted, while the two younger ones clung to them.

The King's bedchamber.

After lightly knocking on the door, Grand Maester Pycelle slipped inside.

He carried a tray bearing a silver wine flask and a goblet.

"Your Majesty, I have prepared a new calming medicine for you. It should help improve your sleep."

Pycelle set the tray on the table, carrying himself like a respected old sage.

Barristan stepped out from behind the curtain that blocked the view and poured a cup of milky white liquid reeking of wine.

Soon after, there came the sound of someone drinking deeply, followed by the goblet being thrown to the floor.

Aerys sat by the bed and said excitedly, "Grand Maester, that damned spinning machine has been made. It is time to sell it among the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Your Majesty, the three-spindle spinning machine has only just appeared. It may still have many shortcomings."

Pycelle lowered his aged eyes and tried to put him off.

Aerys's gaze sharpened as he demanded, "What do you mean? You want to hide it away?"

"No, no, no. It is merely necessary for a new invention to settle first."

Pycelle hurriedly explained.

"Then make it settle faster! Do not delay my great undertaking!"

Aerys berated him for several moments, roaring until Pycelle's forehead was covered in sweat.

Then, suddenly, he changed the subject.

"What do you think of my son?"

"Prince Rhaegar?"

Pycelle asked shakily, seeking confirmation.

Aerys sneered. "That ungrateful wretch is not worthy of being my son. I mean Daeren, Prince Daeren Targaryen, who has been granted the lands south of the Blackwater Rush."

"But Prince Daeren does not even have a castle."

Pycelle chose his words carefully.

"He will. I will build him the grandest and most majestic castle in history."

Aerys shouted hysterically.

Used to this, Pycelle followed the King's lead. "Prince Daeren is young, handsome, and very likable. In the future, he will surely become a fine warrior no less capable than Aemon the Dragonknight."

Aerys beamed and burst into hearty laughter.

"Hm?"

Barristan, who had listened in silence the entire time, quietly frowned. He sensed an unusual implication in the Grand Maester's words.

Those so-called compliments sounded more like a description of an obedient, sensible child.

And the person used for comparison was not some important prince from history, but Aemon the Dragonknight, a member of the Kingsguard.

"Does the Grand Maester support Prince Rhaegar as well?" Barristan instinctively assumed.

After all, he himself favored Crown Prince Rhaegar, whose swordsmanship he had personally guided.

After the laughter faded, Aerys got to the point. "I want to take this opportunity to build Daeren a city no smaller in scale than King's Landing, using nothing but white marble."

At those words, Pycelle's old face changed color.

Aerys continued on his own, "Once that white city is finished, I will move my palace there and relocate half of King's Landing's population. Then I will no longer have to suffer the stench of this shit-hole."

This time, even Barristan furrowed his brow deeply.

The proposal to build a new city south of the Blackwater Rush had been raised by the King back in 265 AC. The ministers of the Small Council had exhausted themselves before finally talking him out of it.

Pycelle forgot his fear and shook his head repeatedly. "No. Absolutely not."

"Your Majesty knows this. Since the War of the Ninepenny Kings, the royal treasury has been stretched thin. We only finished repaying the Iron Bank's loans a few years ago. We absolutely do not have the funds to build a new city."

Aerys was furious. "What is wrong with building a new city for my son?!"

Pycelle continued shaking his head.

No meant no. Even if they killed him, he could not produce that money.

Besides, this was not about building a city for Prince Daeren. The King clearly wanted to embark on a massive construction project himself, draining the people and wasting resources.

After more than an hour of arguing, Aerys finally could not hold on under the effects of the calming medicine and collapsed into sleep.

"I'll see you out, Grand Maester."

Barristan escorted him from the bedchamber.

After stepping outside, Pycelle earnestly instructed him, "Ser Barristan, His Majesty will wake in a few hours. When he does, you must persuade him to abandon that unrealistic grand plan."

Barristan said solemnly, "You are a man worthy of respect, Grand Maester."

He sincerely believed the other man was thinking of the people.

Night fell.

Inside the Princess's bedchamber.

Shayani lay on her side on the soft couch in her nightgown, her eyes peacefully closed.

"What action will my teacher take?"

Daeren lay before the brightly burning fireplace with his hands behind his head, considering the problems he would face tomorrow.

The sky had gone dark. Only the two siblings remained in the room, while the two younger children had long since been taken away by Rhaella's maids.

After imagining seven or eight possible difficulties and more than a dozen solutions.

Daeren turned over slightly, his gaze falling upon the delicate face in the dim light.

Gradually, his mind relaxed.

It was no joke. In the entire Red Keep, Shayani was probably the only person who could make him feel completely at ease.

There were simply too few people he could trust.

Speaking of which, according to House Targaryen's unique traditions, Shayani should have married their elder brother Rhaegar.

But things had not gone as hoped.

At first, their father Aerys had been the strongest advocate for continuing the tradition.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—it had come to nothing.

The original reasons had been Shayani's personal issues and the opposition of the ministers of the Small Council.

One could see from her daily life that Shayani was naturally withdrawn and even somewhat detached from worldly affairs.

Such unconventional behavior was not uncommon in House Targaryen's history.

For a long time, it had been attributed to intellectual disability.

There truly had been quite a few intellectually disabled members of the family, and most of them had been women.

For example, Princess Gaerys, the youngest daughter of Jaehaerys I, the Old King; Princess Helaena, daughter of Viserys I, the Young King; and Princess Jaehaera, daughter of Aegon II and Helaena...

They were all special cases clearly recorded in history.

Only later did the maesters of the Citadel overturn that conclusion, distinguishing between withdrawn temperaments and intellectual disability.

Princess Gaerys and Princess Jaehaera had truly been intellectually disabled.

Princess Helaena, who had ridden the dragon Dreamfyre, had merely been withdrawn. There had been nothing wrong with her intelligence.

Shayani was the same.

But even so, the ministers of the Small Council remained prejudiced.

They claimed that rather than having Prince Rhaegar marry Shayani and risk producing another eccentric heir, it would be better to separate the siblings and arrange marriages with the great nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

Father Aerys certainly did not agree.

To find a woman of Valyrian blood for his eldest son Rhaegar to marry, he had even sent his old friend, Lord Steffon Baratheon, across the sea to Essos beyond the Narrow Sea in search of a suitable bride.

Because of this, Lord Steffon had died at sea on his return voyage.

During the stalemate caused by their disagreement, someone took action first.

Rhaegar traveled alone to Dorne, met Princess Elia Martell of Dorne, and spoke at length with Prince Doran. In private, they settled upon an engagement.

By the time Aerys learned of it, it was already too late to stop them.

Daeren could not say whether Rhaegar's actions had been right.

Judging by the current situation, Rhaegar's marriage to Princess Elia had indirectly earned him the support of the entire kingdom of Dorne, giving him the strength to clash head-on with his father Aerys.

Otherwise, the wedding could not have proceeded so smoothly.

This was also the main reason Aerys had later gone madly out of his way to slander his eldest son, calling him an ungrateful wretch and intending to strip him of his status as heir.

Rhaegar was married, and Shayani's marriage arrangement had fallen through.

The most likely replacement was naturally...

"Sleep. Stop overthinking."

Daeren closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

As time passed, his mind gradually emptied, and his breathing became even.

On the other side, Shayani quietly opened her eyes. She stared at the sleeping Daeren for a moment, then pulled up the blanket to cover her view.

At night, 22:00.

Daeren fell into a deep sleep and began dreaming without realizing it.

In the dream, he returned to Dragon Tongue Farm and watered the crops, pulled weeds, and stroked the chicks as usual.

"Caw, caw, caw!"

A crow flew over and landed at the edge of the Farmland, lowering its head to peck at the newly sprouted seedlings.

Daeren frowned deeply.

There were fewer than fifteen plots of Farmland. How had it attracted a crow?

"Get lost!"

Without thinking too much, he picked up a hoe and stepped forward to drive away the strange crow.

The crow flapped its wings and landed on a pine tree in the open space of the farm.

"You still won't leave?"

Daeren found it strange. In the game, crows scattered with a single shout. There was no setting where they stubbornly lingered.

"Caw, caw, caw!"

The crow cocked its head and let out a harsh, strange cry.

Suspicious, Daeren looked up and carefully examined the crow.

The crow showed no fear at all. It even leaned forward in a humanlike manner, allowing him to see it more clearly.

Just as he was about to see the crow's full appearance, Daeren suddenly woke with a start.

[Farming: 0 gold]

[Foraging: 40 gold]

[Fishing: 0 gold]

[Mining: 0 gold]

[Other: 0 gold]

[Total: 40 gold]

Daeren forced his eyes open and realized he had sold a Dandelion during the day, triggering the settlement System Panel after 2:00 AM.

What was that dream? That strange crow...

Daeren silently grumbled.

"What's wrong?"

Shayani had woken up at some point. She propped herself halfway up on the soft couch with one hand, her long, lightly curled silver-gold hair falling naturally around her. She unconsciously exuded the soft beauty unique to a young girl.

Daeren's voice remained calm. "Nothing. Maybe I'm not used to sleeping in a different bed."

"Oh."

Shayani did not ask further. She withdrew her concerned gaze and lay back down.

The room became quiet again.

Daeren closed his eyes, but his heart was clearly anything but calm.

Dreaming, a strange crow, suddenly waking up...

Don't tell me something filthy has latched onto me.

Daeren's thoughts moved quickly, and in an instant, he grasped the key point.