Walking down the corridor, Daeren ran into someone unexpected.
Varys had waited for quite a while before cupping his hands in salute. "Prince, please wait."
"Lord Varys, what can I do for you?"
Daeren asked curiously.
He had little contact with the Small Council, especially the eunuch master of whispers who pried into secrets everywhere.
Varys smiled faintly. "As you know, in order to gather intelligence for Your Majesty more effectively, I keep many Little Birds."
"Your Little Birds are going to serve me for once?"
Daeren caught the key point.
"I merely wish to share a rather interesting discovery."
Varys glanced around and lowered his voice. "The news of you beating Lord Gillian reached the Red Keep first. His Majesty taking calming medicine came afterward."
"More interestingly, when Lord Tywin received the news, the Grand Maester was reporting to the Tower of the Hand."
"Think it over at your leisure. I shall take my leave."
With that, he hurriedly excused himself.
Daeren watched him walk away, his eyes narrowing slightly.
So Varys and Pycelle were at odds?
His focus was not on Varys's intelligence, but on the relationship between the source of that intelligence and the person mentioned in it.
Clearly, Varys wanted Pycelle dead.
"Varys's identity is questionable, but his loyalty was somewhat assured before House Targaryen fell."
"Pycelle, on the other hand, is nothing but an ungrateful old bastard."
Daeren quickly made his decision.
Varys had voluntarily brought him intelligence and played the role of applying the brakes in the Throne Room. It would be appropriate to make some contact with him.
As for Pycelle...
The corner of Daeren's lips curled upward.
Afternoon, 15:30.
Daeren and Ser Jon left the city together, heading back toward Dragon Tongue Farm.
Before leaving, he had visited Ser Gerold the "White Bull" and Kevon.
His father, Aerys, was catching up on sleep. Ser Gerold conveyed his message, hoping Daeren would remain in King's Landing and assist his father in governing.
Rarely, Ser Gerold had also expressed his personal wish in private.
He asked Daeren to stay in King's Landing, as it would help ease Aerys's "emotional instability."
The scene in the Throne Room, where Daeren had persuaded Aerys to abandon the idea of sending Barristan into battle, had been deeply etched into many people's minds.
Kevon was wrapped up like a mummy and could barely turn over in bed.
Fortunately, they were all superficial injuries. Nothing had damaged his bones or sinews.
Kevon followed his elder brother Tywin's will in all things, and he showed Daeren a measure of goodwill during the visit.
He also relayed a message: Tywin hoped Daeren could remain in King's Landing and take up a post.
This time, Daeren agreed.
As for his choice of position, he declined a court appointment and expressed his willingness to join the City Guard.
Commonly known as the "Gold Cloaks."
The City Guard had existed for a long time, while the name Gold Cloaks originated during House Targaryen's golden age. When the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, took over as commander of the City Guard and carried out sweeping reforms, the common folk gave them that nickname.
Prince Daemon standardized the mismatched equipment of the City Guard, replacing it with breastplates, chainmail, iron clubs, and more. He also gave every man a golden woolen cloak.
From then on, gold became the defining color of the City Guard.
Daeren's reason for joining the City Guard was simple: it was King's Landing's only armed force supplied by the Royal Family.
If he stayed in King's Landing without taking control of this force, would that not be a terrible waste?
Once Ser Gerold and Kevon learned of his wishes, they would surely tell Aerys and Tywin.
Dragon Tongue Farm.
Daeren walked alone along the yellow dirt path, the entrance to the farm close at hand.
He had sent Ser Jon out to survey the terrain.
Today was the fifth day of spring. According to the game's settings, the mine beside the mountain lake should have opened.
Buildings required stone, while crafting items required all kinds of ore.
Mining was an indispensable part of Stardew Valley.
"Woof, woof, woof~~"
A little gray puppy darted out of the bushes and blocked Daeren's way.
Daeren said, "A dog?"
"Woof, woof~~"
The little gray dog seemed not even a month old. It sat beneath the tree roots at the farm entrance, panting with its tongue hanging out.
Daeren suddenly understood. The System Panel had sent him a dog.
In Stardew Valley, players could choose between a cat and a dog as a pet, and it was likewise given to the Farmer on the fifth day of spring.
"Then I'll take you."
Daeren smiled and reached out to tease the little pup.
Dogs in the game were not particularly useful. Once their affection reached maximum hearts, petting them had a chance of yielding some junk.
Reality was different.
A puppy was a fine helper for guarding the house and yard.
"Woof, woof~~"
The little gray dog seemed to understand that it had been taken in, and its tiny tail wagged wildly.
"Come on."
Daeren pinched the back of the little pup's neck and lifted him.
The puppy was obedient too, not struggling in the slightest as all four little paws curled over his belly.
"I'll give you a name. You'll be called doro."
"Woof, woof~~"
The first thing he did upon returning to the farm—
Water the crops, pet the chickens, collect the eggs, check the Mailbox...
Once he finished the farm work, it was 18:30 in the evening.
Inside the cabin.
Daeren rubbed his hands together and tossed the freshly washed Bruce doro in front of the fireplace to dry.
After his bath, the puppy's color faded from gray to white, and his messy fur became naturally wavy.
"Woof, woof~~"
doro stared straight at the fireplace. Within the firelight lay a large, oval egg.
"You little fool. A hundred of you wouldn't be worth as much as that thing."
Daeren grabbed doro's upper muzzle and easily shattered the pup's dream of slaying dragons.
He had brought the Dragon Egg back and placed it within the fireplace's flames.
In the original story, after the Red Comet appeared, Daenerys had accidentally used Blood Sacrifice to successfully hatch three petrified Dragon Eggs.
Daeren's circumstances were somewhat better than hers.
The Red Comet had arrived early, and the Dragon Egg still retained a trace of vitality.
The prerequisite for hatching a Dragon Egg was magic.
It was not difficult to tell from the books that after the Dance of the Dragons, the world entered a low-magic era as the Magic Tide receded.
Dragons had died out, Dragon Eggs could no longer hatch, Wizards and Pyromancers could no longer cast magic...
But things were different now.
The Red Comet's early arrival had not only brought magic back into the world, it had even triggered a massive surge in the Magic Tide.
The Special Crops and Life Force across the continent were powerful proof of that.
"My odds of hatching this Dragon Egg will increase dramatically."
Daeren stared at the Dragon Egg, deeply captivated by its red scales.
No man disliked dragons.
Even the Imp Tyrion had pestered his uncle Tygett for a dragon. Even a newly hatched Young Dragon would suit his small stature.
Let alone Daeren, who carried dragon blood.
Daeren said, "I... I want a dragon so badly! I dream about it! I want one so badly!"
"You'd better hatch soon. I'm waiting for you to conquer the world with me."
Daeren was too obsessed to care about the scorching flames. He reached into the fireplace and touched the Dragon Egg, which had already become intensely hot.
Sizzle!
The flames brought pain, and when the hot Dragon Egg touched his damp palm, wisps of white smoke rose.
"Woooof!"
doro's eyes widened. He clamped his baby teeth onto the Farmer's sleeve and pulled backward with all his might.
"I'm fine."
Daeren remained calm as he withdrew his hand and examined his palm. His five fingers had merely been scalded pale.
He was not The Unburnt, but his dragon blood was potent.
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