Stardew Valley: Otherworld 2.0

Lord Owen blinked, his expression quickly shifting to one of delight.

"Prince, are you leaving?"

Hearing this, Lord Tytos hurried forward.

Daeren was faster, grabbing the man's hands—calloused from years of gripping a sword—in his own. His tone was filled with reluctance. "Uncle Tytos, I have truly caused you so much trouble during this time."

The man was a sturdy, vigorous middle-aged fellow. Having spent his life riding horses and practicing swordsmanship, he was a quintessential old-school nobleman.

"King's Landing is not safe. You would be better off staying at Stone Hedge. Wait until I can knight you before you leave."

"I will speak to His Majesty on your behalf."

Tytos was blunt and straightforward, saying whatever was on his mind without ever beating around the bush.

Daeren offered a wry smile; the two of them truly hit it off.

He called the man "Uncle" because there was a blood connection to support it.

His great-grandfather, Aegon V, was known as the "King Who Should Not Have Been," though some privately called him "Egg the King."

The nickname stemmed from his youth, a special experience as a "wandering knight and his squire" that was destined to be remembered for generations.

After Aegon V became king, he married Lady Beth of House Blackwood.

By seniority, Tytos would call Beth Blackwood his great-aunt, and Aerys would call her grandmother; they were cousins once removed.

Daeren's relationship with the man could only be stretched to that of a nephew and a distant uncle.

Whether it actually held weight depended on whether both sides were willing to acknowledge it.

Aerys did not acknowledge it; he cared nothing for this former marriage alliance with House Blackwood.

As for Daeren, he had managed to make contact with House Blackwood thanks to all that messy business.

Blackwood and Bracken were known in the Riverlands as the "Two Houses of B."

The grudges and feuds between the two families could be traced back over a thousand years.

In terms of their relationship, even if they weren't fighting a small skirmish every three days and a major one every seven, they were certainly oil and water.

The year before his older brother Rhaegar was married, the two great families had clashed once again, for reasons that mattered little.

When vassals under their banners fought, it should have been the duty of the Tully family, the Lords of the Trident, to manage it.

However, the Tully family's position as Lords of the Trident had been propped up by House Targaryen, and they lacked the authority to suppress two noble houses of similar stature.

Simply put, they lacked the prestige and could not keep the others in line.

Duke Tully followed protocol and reported the matter to the Iron Throne.

Aerys heard a snippet of it and promptly cast it to the back of his mind.

If you can't even manage your own vassals, what use are you, you useless waste of space?

The matter circled around and eventually landed on the desk of the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin. He investigated and determined that the Bracken Family was in the right.

When the Lord Hand reported this to the King, Aerys flew into a rage.

Everyone says that you, Tywin Lannister, are just and incorruptible, that the Hand is the true King while I, the King, merely sit back and reap the rewards.

Very well!

You say the Bracken Family is in the right? Then I shall make a point of favoring the Bracken Family.

He immediately prepared to send men to the Riverlands to tip the scales.

In the original story, it was precisely this incident that deeply wounded the heart of the Bracken Family, causing them—loyal subjects of the Royal Family—to remain absent during the War of the Usurper.

If it were not stopped, the events would unfold exactly as they had before.

At the critical moment, Daeren stepped forward.

Isn't it just a matter of tipping the scales?

No one understood how to tip the scales better than he did.

Aerys had always favored his Second Son, and seeing him stand on his side, he agreed with joyful surprise.

Daeren seized the opportunity to leave King's Landing.

Upon arriving in the Riverlands, he first went to Riverrun to drag the playing-dead Duke Tully out, then summoned both great houses to a meeting.

He openly supported the Bracken Family, satisfying the abstract decree of his father, Aerys.

In reality, he ordered the Bracken Family to return the pastures they had illegally seized from the Bracken Family and to pay for the fodder and the wounded.

Would the Bracken Family agree?

They would. They certainly would.

The Royal Family had already stepped in to make the decision, and Daeren had pushed Duke Tully to the forefront; no noble in the Riverlands dared to object.

This move logically won the favor of the Bracken Family.

Daeren explained his intentions and, at the opportune moment, invoked their blood ties, successfully securing a position as a retainer at Stone Hedge.

After this incident, Lord Tytos saw the King's incompetence and felt a protective urge toward the young Prince, willing to lend a helping hand.

He had no intention of treating the boy as a commodity to be hoarded.

The noble lords throughout the Seven Kingdoms now pinned all their hopes on the renowned Crown Prince Rhaegar.

Lord Tytos, who had not paid much attention to the Iron Throne, also became one of those looking forward to Rhaegar's ascension.

"I will be fine, Uncle Tytos."

Daeren squeezed his hand, signaling for him to be at ease, and cast a glance behind him. "Besides, when I return this time, Father will reward me."

Lord Owen, who had been caught in his gaze, nodded hurriedly. "That is correct, Prince."

This was not his first time here; he had already conveyed the hidden conditions in the Prince's words to the King and the Lord Hand.

A fiefdom!

He could hardly believe the Prince would be so bold as to demand one.

Lord Owen could only feel that the boy had guts.

"Since that is the case, then I am relieved." Lord Tytos felt his heart settle.

Early the next morning, Daeren packed his luggage and followed the main force back to King's Landing.

At the moment of parting, Daeren grasped Lord Tytos's hand, repeatedly urging him to take care of his health, to dress warmly as the weather was still cold, and to be mindful of consuming cold drinks.

Even a tough man like Tytos was moved; he kept a straight face and said nothing, only nodding with a muffled grunt.

Five days later, the people in the procession saw the walls of King's Landing from afar.

Daeren rode a white horse, traveling in the middle of the column.

Ahead of him was the "White Bull" Ser Gerold, wearing his bull-horned helm, with Ser Jon and Lord Owen to his left and right.

"Prince, we are almost there."

Lord Owen handed over a waterskin, pulling him out of his trance.

Daeren shook his head gently, declining the gesture.

Taking advantage of the fact that no one was nearby, Lord Owen rolled his eyes and whispered, "Prince, His Majesty values you highly. Why must you ask for a fiefdom?"

For House Targaryen, being invested as the Prince of Dragonstone was the true symbol of the heir apparent.

He did not understand.

The other party had actually given up on Dragonstone, which they could have fought for, and instead requested other fiefs.

Daeren glanced at him sideways. "Dragonstone is currently Rhaegar's fief. Would he give it to me?"

"Uh..."

Lord Owen was left speechless by the question.

Too lazy to pay him any more mind, Daeren spurred his horse to put some distance between them.

Up ahead, Ser Gerold, whose demeanor remained as steady as a mountain, turned his head and gave a slight nod, acknowledging him.

Daeren returned the gesture, but did not strike up a conversation.

As for why he wanted a piece of land instead of fighting for Dragonstone, it was partly because he didn't want to, and partly because he couldn't win that fight anyway.

But as for the true reason.

Daeren's vision blurred, and a monochromatic light panel abruptly appeared, with five large characters in the center: [Stardew Valley Panel]

A system panel, his exclusive cheat.

Looking at the words "Stardew Valley," he couldn't help but recall a certain casual game involving farming, gathering... and various other combinations.

It starts by letting you escape the 007-style urban hustle, only to throw you into the wonderful, grueling 267-style rural farm life.

Come to think of it, just pondering it for a moment, his body already began to feel a sense of hollowed-out bliss.

And the condition to activate this panel was to possess an exclusive farm.

This was the reason he had asked for a fief.

"Prince, we have arrived at the Red Keep."

Ser Gerold, who was traveling with him, spoke in a deep voice.

Daeren looked up, and a weathered black iron gate came into view, with banners of the Three-Headed Red Dragon fluttering vividly on both sides.

The Red Keep had arrived.

"Second Brother, Second Brother, I'm here!"

On the towering, thick battlements of the Red Keep, a silver-haired little boy, looking about six or seven years old, jumped high, cheering and waving excitedly.

Daeren chuckled, dismounted, and walked into the castle's forecourt.

"Second Brother!!"

Soon, a warm little fellow came running and shouting, crashing into his arms like a little cannonball.

Daeren caught him steadily, holding him in his arms with a smile on his face.

He looked at his younger brother, the one he had watched grow up, Jaeherys Targaryen.

Seeing his brother home after such a long time, Jaeherys was overjoyed, his little mouth chattering incessantly: "Second Brother, you're finally back! Are the Riverlands beautiful?"

"They are. Everywhere you look, there are green hills and flowing waters."

"..."

The brothers got along well. Under the gaze of those gathered around them, they walked into Maegor's Holdfast.

"Second Brother, Father has been in a bad mood lately."

Walking down the corridor, Jaeherys frowned, sharing what he had seen and heard.

Daeren's eyes flickered slightly, and he said indifferently: "It's fine. He's aiming his anger at Rhaegar; it has nothing to do with us."

Jaeherys looked thoughtful, resting his head on his brother's shoulder and falling silent.

"Hee hee..."

"Come on, catch me if you can..."

A burst of playful laughter from young girls drifted over, drawing the brothers' attention.

Daeren lowered his head and, through the stained glass windows of Maegor's Holdfast, saw three lovely young girls chasing each other in the back garden.

The girls were exceptionally beautiful, their figures already developing into graceful curves, exuding an aura of youth against the backdrop of their delicate dresses.

The blonde girl being chased, in particular, had skin as white as milk and an astonishing beauty, her green eyes carrying a faint, charming allure, as if they could speak.

"Second Brother." Jaeherys took a look and tugged on his brother's sleeve.

Daeren withdrew his gaze and offered a smile: "Pay them no mind. Let's keep going."

"Mm."

Jaeherys nodded repeatedly, his spirits instantly restored.

The Throne Room.

One thousand swords from defeated foes had been forged by dragonfire into the Iron Throne. The blades on its surface were layered and overlapping, and the towering steps twisted upward, posing a risk of a fall for anyone not careful enough.

The base was even more menacing, with countless swords forming a forest of blades that both pushed everyone away and isolated the monarch above.

Daeren came here alone to meet his father.

On the Iron Throne sat a tall, thin man with long, disheveled silver-gold hair. His head was buried deep, obscuring his face, and his posture was cramped as he muttered to himself.

Daeren could not hear clearly, but he was accustomed to it and stepped closer to listen.

Swish! Swish!

As he reached the edge of the blades before the Iron Throne, two Kingsguard partially drew their swords, blocking his path.

They were Ser Gerold and Ser Jon.

Daeren stopped in his tracks and surveyed those present.

On the steps of the Iron Throne stood another burly Kingsguard, one hand resting on his sword hilt as he guarded the King.

There were no other figures clad in white cloaks.

On one side of the hall, two men stood side by side, with a gap of two or three meters between them.

One was a stooped, elderly man with graying hair, dressed in the robes of a maester.

Grand Maester Pycelle.

The other was a slightly plump man with a shaved head, draped in fine black robes, his face powdered like a doll's.

The man wore a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his sleeves. He bowed slightly as he met Daeren's gaze, appearing humble and courteous.

The Master of Whisperers, the Spider, Varys.