"Where have you been, boy!?"
Aerys suddenly roared, lifting his head to reveal those purple eyes filled with gloom and flickering madness.
He was furious.
At the shout, Pycelle's aged body trembled, while Varys's expression tightened.
Everyone knew that Aerys, known as the Mad King, was dangerous.
And now that danger was directed at his favorite son.
"The Riverlands, Father," Daeren said.
Aerys panted heavily and asked in a deep voice, "Where?"
Daeren pushed aside the two swords blocking his path and said with absolute certainty, "The Riverlands. By your command, I reprimanded the Bracken Family and won the approval of both the Bracken and Blackwood Families."
He walked toward the Iron Throne, isolated from the world. Though his movements were unhurried, he was not slow in the least.
Meeting the questioning gazes around him, he continued, "By now, everyone in the Riverlands must be praising Your Majesty's mercy and fairness, longing to behold your royal visage."
It was utter nonsense, delivered with a straight face.
Yet some people actually believed it.
"Really?" Aerys froze, suddenly doubting himself.
Daeren affirmed it. "Even Lord Tytos held your decree in the highest reverence. He kept me as a guest at Stone Hedge for two months. Had he not learned that you summoned me repeatedly, he would never have been willing to let me leave."
"Hahaha!" Aerys laughed heartily.
That was right. That was how it should be.
I am the King!!
Seeing that he had soothed him, Daeren let out a breath, somewhat listless.
Having figured out Aerys's psychological traits, he had never thought there would be any danger.
Ever since childhood, he had fooled his old father like this.
Never mind that the man was already... mad, and he was still teasing him.
There was a saying in psychology: communication was the best bridge.
Only by understanding the importance of communication had he been able to remain in his father Aerys's favor for ten years straight.
Within limited conditions, he filled the largest holes possible.
After laughing, Aerys seemed much more spirited and beckoned his second son closer to tell him the details.
Daeren did not hesitate. He walked up the twisted, uneven steps of the Iron Throne.
As he passed the Kingsguard knight, he politely greeted him. "You've worked hard, Ser Barristan."
"It is my duty, Your Highness," the other man replied without changing expression.
Daeren nodded approvingly.
Barristan Selmy, known as Barristan the Bold, was a living legend whose exploits rivaled those of legendary Kingsguard such as Savon the Mirror Shield and Aemon the Dragonknight.
How high was his standing?
Among the three Kingsguard present, even Ser Gerold, the White Bull and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, could only stand below, while Barristan was permitted to stand upon the steps of the Iron Throne and guard the King who trusted no one at close range.
In terms of martial skill, he was one of the finest warriors on the entire continent.
Add his character and loyalty, and he had no equal.
Anyone who had such a man at his side benefited from it, and even the King was no exception.
"Father, I..."
Daeren's voice was gentle as he familiarly sat on the highest step, using a fabricated, beautiful story to soothe his father Aerys's taut nerves.
When he reached a crucial point, he took the other's long-nailed hand and offered to tidy his appearance.
Aerys was engrossed in the story and allowed his son to do as he pleased.
Daeren trimmed away his excess nails and carefully smoothed them with a file. Then he rose to tie back his long hair and straighten the Golden Dragon Crown that had tilted downward.
Finally, he even held the other's neck steady as he trimmed his unruly stubble.
Everything was so peaceful, as though they had long grown accustomed to it.
The youth's hands were deft, and he soon finished.
"Though it is not the first time I've seen it, I still feel this is a miracle."
Varys bent over and carefully edged close to the dozing Pycelle, nudging him with an elbow.
Pycelle snapped awake as if from a dream and muddledly said, "Ah? Yes, I support the Prince receiving a fief."
Varys narrowed his eyes, and his smile vanished.
He truly was an expert at playing dumb.
Ignoring the intrigues between the two Grand Ministers, the three Kingsguard stood quietly on duty, occasionally stealing glances at the now neatly groomed King.
It had to be said that Aerys did not look bad.
Just by looking at Prince Daeren's face, with brows like bright stars, as well as the appearances of the other princes and Princesses, one could tell what the King had looked like in his youth.
At that moment, Aerys had returned to normal. His body was no longer tense as he relaxed against the Iron Throne, one hand resting on an armrest bent from blades, the other supporting his sharply contoured jaw and cheek.
He was handsome and possessed deep, penetrating eyes, giving off the unique oppressive air of a man in power.
With a crown on his head and purple royal robes upon his tall frame, he perfectly displayed the dignity such attire was meant to convey.
If not for his long seclusion, his bloodless pale skin, and the emaciation brought on by frequent fasting, he would certainly have possessed a monarch's bearing.
The young Aerys had truly been like that.
Not only was he handsome, but he was also decisive and generous with his actions, admired by the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.
But as he grew older, his jealousy of the capable revealed itself, exposing his mediocrity.
Especially during the Duskendale Rebellion in 276 AC, when Dennis Darklyn imprisoned him in a dungeon and subjected him to half a year of humiliating torture without sunlight.
No one came to save him.
Lord Dennis threatened the King's life, declaring that anyone who dared launch an assault would see the King executed.
At the time, Lord Hand Tywin led the rescue force.
Lord Tywin first besieged the city for half a year, then decided that whether Lord Dennis released the King or not, he would launch a direct assault.
The other side could execute the captive King, but he would raze Duskendale to the ground.
Aerys had been abandoned.
That included his eldest son, Rhaegar.
After learning of it, Rhaegar never showed himself even once, as though he did not care whether his father lived or died.
Fortunately, matters did not reach the worst possible outcome.
On the night before Tywin ordered the assault, Ser Barristan stepped forward and begged for one night to rescue the imprisoned King alone.
Tywin agreed.
That night, Ser Barristan proved his strength and loyalty.
Protecting the rescued King alone, he forcibly carved a bloody path out of Duskendale and accomplished an impossible rescue.
That was also the main reason Aerys was so unstable now, and why only Barristan could protect him at close range.
Daeren felt somewhat helpless.
He had only watched the show. It had not covered so many details about his father Aerys, so he had no foreknowledge to warn him.
Before that, the other man had actually seemed like a rather good father in his eyes.
From the old septas in the court, he had learned that his father had displayed a violent temper and a fickle, heartless nature when he was young.
Yet after his many children were born, especially after Daeren, his second son, was born, his temperament had restrained itself considerably.
Who could have imagined that a single ordeal would return him to his old self and worsen his madness?
"Enough. Go down and rest first."
Aerys waved a hand.
Daeren did not forget his purpose. After rising, he did not move his feet.
Aerys's face hardened again as he said teasingly, "I will grant you a fief by the Blackwater Rush. It was left to you by your grandfather."
Leaving the hall, Daeren secretly rejoiced.
Just then, someone approached from ahead.
Tywin Lannister was in his early forties. With thick golden hair, pale green eyes, and a tall, lean frame, his presence was immensely imposing, like a sleeping lion.
"Has the matter in the Riverlands been resolved satisfactorily?"
Tywin stopped, his voice deep and resonant.
Daeren kept his eyes forward and left without saying a word.
The atmosphere was subtle, abruptly turning cold.
Tywin glanced sideways but did not pursue the offense of being ignored. He walked straight toward the Throne Room.
From afar, Daeren could still hear that distinctive voice asking whether the King was still present and requesting an audience to discuss state affairs.
In the blink of an eye, night fell.
Tower of the Hand.
The room was somewhat cramped, but its furnishings were exquisitely refined. Well-tanned deerskins hung on the walls, a bearskin rug covered the floor, and even the solid wooden table held agate wine cups.
The firelight from the hearth cast two long shadows.
Tywin rested both hands on the armrests and spoke calmly. "Has the matter in the Riverlands been resolved satisfactorily?"
"Yes."
"It did 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 openly defy it."
Tywin laughed heartily, appearing very pleased. "Very good. You handled it better than I expected."
The firelight illuminated the shadows, revealing the person seated opposite him.
It was none other than Daeren.
"You flatter me, teacher. Without your guidance, it would not have been so easy." Daeren gently shook his head, completely unlike his attitude from the daytime.
He had become the student of the Lannister who would one day be his greatest enemy.
Daeren understood this perfectly. He was here to learn.
Tywin's ambitions were obvious, but his crimes against House Targaryen had not yet occurred.
That meant there was, for now, no irreconcilable conflict between them.
As he had said, communication was the most important thing in all matters.
In his previous life, he had only been an ordinary graduate student. He had never entered society or endured its cutting winds and bitter frost.
Even after awakening his past-life memories, he was merely a Prince living in court.
An ordinary man in his twenties added to an ordinary teenager would not produce a politician capable of playing cards at the table of power.
He needed a teacher.
Looking across the Seven Kingdoms, the greatest statesman stood before him.
Tywin Lannister.
Daeren's thoughts were exceptionally clear. To defeat him, he first had to observe him, then learn from him, and finally criticize him.
Observe his attitude toward matters, learn his ability to solve problems, and critique the strengths, weaknesses, benefits, and drawbacks of his various decisions.
Put plainly, he had to think as Tywin thought and consider what Tywin considered.
In the end, he would become him and surpass him.
That was the path of reform.
If communication failed and he could not make him abandon his ambitions...
Then Daeren would also possess the ability to defeat him.
In resolving the conflict between the Bracken and Blackwood Families in the Riverlands this time, Tywin had advised him, pointing out that the key was not the Bracken and Blackwood Families themselves, but the inactive Tully Family.
Daeren understood immediately.
Borrowing momentum, praising openly while criticizing in secret, winning over hearts...
A seamless series of moves caught everyone off guard. Not only did it open the situation and bring the three families into line, even his father could find no fault with it.
"Boy, excessive humility is arrogance."
Tywin's smile faded as he sternly said, "Remind me: who resolved this trouble?"
Daeren's lips curved upward. "I did."
"Very good!"
Tywin looked at the student who hid himself from public view, praised his wisdom, and said, "Pour me a cup of wine, boy. Next, I will explain your new fief to you."
A student who could not be revealed in public could not be considered one of his own.
But if that student was a handsome, unmarried Prince of suitable age with a claim to inherit the Iron Throne, that was another matter.
Before you continue