Left Behind by Grandfather

"Kid, where the hell did you run off to!?"

Aerys suddenly roared, looking up to reveal those purple eyes, filled with gloom and flickering with mania.

He was furious.

At the sound of his shout, Pycelle's aged body shuddered, and Varys's expression tightened.

Everyone knew that Aerys, known as the Mad King, was dangerous.

Now, that danger was directed at his favorite son.

"The Riverlands, Father," Daeren said.

Aerys gasped for air, his voice deep as he asked, "Where?"

Daeren pushed aside the two swords blocking his path and said with absolute certainty, "The Riverlands. Following your decree, I reprimanded the Blackwood family and won the recognition of the Bracken and Blackwood families."

He walked toward the Iron Throne, which stood isolated from the world; though his movements were light and slow, he was not slow at all.

Facing those questioning eyes, he continued, "Right now, the people of the Riverlands must be singing praises of Your Majesty's benevolence and justice, longing to catch a glimpse of your dragon-like visage."

He was spouting nonsense with a straight face.

But some people just happened to believe it.

"Really?" Aerys was stunned, struck by self-doubt.

Daeren gave an affirmative nod, "Even Lord Tytos was filled with such reverence for your decree that he kept me as a guest at Stone Hedge for two months. If it weren't for the fact that I learned you had summoned me multiple times, he would have refused to let me leave no matter what."

"Hahaha!" Aerys laughed heartily.

That's right, that's exactly how it should be.

I am the King!!

Seeing that the other man had been placated, Daeren let out a breath, feeling somewhat listless.

Having mastered the psychological profile of Aerys, he had never once thought there would be any danger.

He had been hoodwinking his old father like this since he was a child.

Don't talk to him about how the man was already... mad, or how he was just playing with him.

There is a saying in psychology: communication is the best bridge.

By mastering the importance of communication, he had been able to secure his father Aerys's favor for ten years, day after day.

Within limited conditions, he filled the largest of gaps.

After the laughter, Aerys felt much more spirited. He beckoned his second son forward to give him a detailed account.

Daeren did not hesitate, walking up to the Iron Throne to take over the crooked, uneven seat.

As he passed the Kingsguard, he offered a polite greeting: "You have my thanks, Ser Barristan."

"It is my duty, Your Grace," the man replied, his expression unchanging.

Daeren nodded in approval.

Barristan Selmy, known as Barristan the Bold, was a living legend whose experiences rivaled those of legendary Kingsguard members like Savon the Mirror Shield and Aemon the Dragonknight.

Just how high was his status?

To put it in perspective, among the three Kingsguard present, the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold the White Bull, could only stand guard below, while Barristan was permitted to stand on the steps of the Iron Throne, providing close protection to a King who trusted no one.

If one were to speak of martial arts, he was one of the top warriors on the entire continent.

When his character and loyalty were added to the mix, he was truly without equal.

With a man like this, anyone associated with him gained prestige, and the King was no exception.

"Father, I was telling you..."

Daeren's voice was gentle. He sat familiarly on the highest step, soothing Aerys's taut nerves with a beautifully crafted story.

When he reached the crucial part, he took his father's long-nailed hand and offered to groom him.

Aerys listened, entranced, allowing his son to proceed.

Daeren trimmed the excess length from his nails, filed them smooth with a file, then stood up to tie back his long hair and straighten the Golden Dragon Crown that had been tilting downward.

Finally, he even supported his father's neck to trim the messy, overgrown stubble.

Everything was so calm, as if this were a long-accustomed routine.

The young man was nimble and efficient; the task was soon completed.

"Even though it is not the first time I have seen this, I still feel it is a miracle."

Varys stuck his rear out, carefully leaned toward the dozing Pycelle, and nudged him with his elbow.

Pycelle woke as if from a dream, blurting out muddledly, "Ah? Yes, I support the Prince receiving a fief."

Varys's eyes narrowed slightly, and his smile vanished.

What a master of playing the fool.

Ignoring the scheming between the two Grand Ministers, the three Kingsguard stood their silent watch, occasionally stealing a glance at the neatly groomed King.

It must be said, Aerys was not bad-looking.

Just by looking at Prince Daeren's face, with his brows like bright stars, and the appearances of the other princesses and princes, one could tell what the King looked like in his youth.

At this moment, Aerys had returned to his normal state. His body was no longer tense; he leaned back against the Iron Throne, one hand resting on the armrest made of bent blades, the other supporting his sharp, angular jaw.

He was handsome, and his gaze was profound, carrying the unique oppressive aura of one in a position of power.

Wearing a crown and dressed in purple royal robes, his tall frame perfectly displayed the noble temperament that such attire should command.

If not for the fact that he rarely stepped out, leaving his skin pale and bloodless, and his tendency to fast, which had left him gaunt and emaciated, he would surely possess great monarchical majesty.

The Aerys of his youth was truly like that.

He was not only handsome but also decisive and generous, earning the favor of the nobility across the Seven Kingdoms.

However, as he aged, his jealous and petty nature emerged, exposing his mediocrity.

This was especially true during the Defiance of Duskendale in 276 AC, when he was imprisoned in a dungeon by Dennis Darklyn and subjected to six months of dark, humiliating torture.

No one saved him.

Lord Dennis used the King's life as a threat, declaring that if anyone dared to launch an assault, he would execute the King.

The one leading the rescue troops at the time was the Lord Hand, Tywin.

Lord Tywin first laid siege for half a year, then decided that regardless of whether Lord Dennis released the captive or not, he would launch a full-scale assault.

The enemy could execute the captured King, but he would raze Duskendale to the ground in return.

Aerys had been abandoned.

Among those who abandoned him was his eldest son, Rhaegar.

Upon learning of the situation, Rhaegar never once showed his face, seemingly indifferent to whether his father lived or died.

Fortunately, things did not reach the worst-case scenario.

On the night before Tywin ordered the assault, Ser Barristan stepped forward and implored him for one night, intending to rescue the imprisoned King single-handedly.

Tywin agreed.

And that very night, Ser Barristan proved his strength and loyalty.

Protecting the rescued King, he carved a bloody path out of Duskendale all by himself, completing an impossible rescue.

This was also the main reason why Aerys was so paranoid nowadays, to the point where only Barristan was allowed to protect him at close quarters.

Daeren felt a touch of helplessness.

He had only watched the show, which hadn't covered many of his father Aerys's deeds, so he lacked the foresight to offer any warnings.

In truth, before that, the man had still held the image of a decent father in his mind.

According to what he had learned from the old septas in the palace, his father had exhibited a volatile, irritable, and fickle personality in his youth.

However, after the birth of his many children, especially his second son Daeren, his temperament had mellowed significantly.

Who could have imagined that a single encounter would revert him to his original state and even exacerbate his madness?

"Enough. You may go and rest now."

Aerys waved his hand.

Daeren did not forget his purpose; after rising, he did not budge.

Aerys tightened his face again, his tone mocking: "I will grant you a fief on the banks of the Blackwater Rush. That is what your grandfather left for you."

Walking out of the hall, Daeren felt secretly pleased.

Just then, someone approached from the opposite direction.

Tywin Lannister was in his early forties, with thick golden hair and pale green eyes. Paired with his tall, slender frame, his presence was incredibly imposing, like a slumbering lion.

"Was the matter in the Riverlands resolved satisfactorily?"

Tywin stopped in his tracks, his voice deep and resonant.

Daeren looked straight ahead and left without saying a word.

The atmosphere turned subtle, instantly chilling.

Tywin glanced sideways slightly, but did not pursue the offense of being ignored, heading straight toward the Throne Room.

From a distance, Daeren could still hear that distinct voice inquiring whether the King was still present, requesting an audience to discuss matters of state.

In the blink of an eye, night fell.

The Tower of the Hand.

The room was slightly cramped, but the interior decor was extremely refined. The walls were hung with well-tanned deerskin, the floor was covered with a bearskin rug, and agate wine goblets were placed upon the solid wood table.

The firelight from the hearth cast two long shadows.

Tywin rested his hands on the armrests and spoke indifferently: "Was the matter in the Riverlands resolved satisfactorily?"

"Yes."

"Did this not provoke dissatisfaction from the Tully Family or the Bracken Family?"

"Lord Hoster Tully is dissatisfied with the Royal Family, but he lacks the courage to act in defiance."

Tywin laughed heartily, appearing very satisfied. "Very good. You handled this even better than I expected."

The firelight illuminated the shadows, revealing the person sitting opposite him.

It was none other than Daeren.

"You flatter me, Teacher. If not for your guidance, it wouldn't have been so easy." Daeren shook his head slightly, his demeanor a complete contrast to his attitude during the day.

He had become the student of the man who would be his greatest enemy in the future: a Lannister.

Daeren was clear-headed; he was here to learn.

Tywin's ambition was clear for all to see, but his infamous crimes against House Targaryen had not yet occurred.

This meant that, for the time being, there was no irreconcilable conflict between them.

As the saying goes, everything hinges on communication.

In his past life, he was merely an ordinary graduate student who had never stepped out into society or experienced the harsh trials of the real world.

After awakening his past-life memories, he was nothing more than a Prince living in the royal court.

An ordinary twenty-something combined with an ordinary teenager would not produce a politician capable of playing at the table of power.

He needed a teacher.

Looking across the Seven Kingdoms, the most brilliant politician was right before his eyes.

Tywin Lannister.

Daeren's train of thought was crystal clear: to defeat him, one must first observe him, then learn from him, and finally critique him.

Observe his attitude toward matters, learn his ability to resolve problems, and critique the pros and cons of his various decisions.

To put it plainly: think his thoughts and ponder his considerations.

In the end, become him, and then surpass him.

This was the path of innovation.

If communication proved ineffective and could not make him abandon his ambitions...

Then he would have already acquired the talent to defeat his opponent.

The resolution of the conflict between the two families in the Riverlands this time had been guided by Tywin, who had pointed out that the focus was not on the Bracken and Blackwood families themselves, but on the inaction of the Tully Family.

Daeren caught on instantly.

Leveraging influence, using faint praise to deliver sharp barbs, winning over hearts and minds...

A silky-smooth combo that caught everyone off guard. Not only did he open up the situation and bring the three houses to heel, but even his father couldn't find a single fault.

"Kid, excessive humility is arrogance."

Tywin's smile vanished, and he said sternly, "Remind me, who solved this trouble?"

Daeren's lips curled upward: "I did."

"Very good!"

Tywin looked at the student hidden behind the scenes, praised his intellect, and said, "Pour me a glass of wine, kid. Next, I am going to explain your new fiefdom to you."

A student who cannot be revealed in public cannot be considered one of one's own.

But if this were a handsome prince with a claim to the Iron Throne and of marriageable age, that would be a different story.