"Hmph, I say it's you, the Master of Whisperers, who neglected your duty."
Lord Simon shamelessly shifted the blame.
As Minister of Justice, he was responsible for King's Landing's security on one hand and the City Guard commander's superior on the other.
With something this serious happening, someone would die if he did not pass the blame along.
Varys choked with anger, forcing a smile. "Lord Simon, whatever you have to say, save it for Your Majesty."
A eunuch was not someone to be trifled with.
Lys had no interest in watching this farce and spoke up to interrupt. "My lords, rather than shirking responsibility, we should think of a solution."
Like all nobles of Valyrian blood, Lys possessed silver hair and violet eyes.
At the prime age of forty, he carried himself with natural dignity.
Lord Simon anxiously said, "This matter has had too great an impact. Many of the people have been caught up in it. Why not send word to Dragonstone and ask Prince Rhaegar to return and take charge?"
"Lord Simon, are you an idiot?"
Lord Chelsted's expression changed. There was not a trace of discrimination in his words, only a sincere inquiry directed at a special group.
Crown Prince Rhaegar!
Every person present had slandered Rhaegar before the King in order to gain favor.
And now he wanted to bring Prince Rhaegar back?
Whether Prince Daeren was in trouble or not was beside the point.
All of them, the universally acknowledged flatterers of the Seven Kingdoms, would be purged.
Knowing he had misspoken, Lord Simon lowered his head in regret and kneaded his thinning hair with both hands.
In the end, Lord Chelsted and Lys came up with a plan.
The former would report to the King and smooth the matter over.
The latter would cooperate with Prince Daeren and suppress public opinion as quickly as possible.
At worst, they were merely arresting a group of criminals.
Though the methods were excessively ruthless, they were at least lawful and justified.
As long as they silenced the noble lords whose "businesses" had been affected, then put forward a few scapegoats to placate the common people, a major matter could be reduced to a minor one, and a minor one quietly buried.
The council adjourned.
Varys remained seated, lost in self-doubt.
He was considering whether helping Prince Daeren had been the right decision.
Tower of the Hand.
After washing up, Daeren appeared there.
"Kid, look at the mess you've made."
Tywin spoke calmly.
He neither raged at him nor ignored the matter.
He was merely stating the facts.
"You did well clearing the rot from the Gold Cloaks, selecting qualified soldiers, and placing your own trusted men among them."
"However, your large-scale arrests of criminals have alarmed the entire city. This will bring extremely unfavorable public opinion upon your reputation."
The Lord Hand remained clear-headed as he rationally weighed the gains and losses.
Seeing that Daeren did not respond, he rose from his seat and asked, "What made you so anxious that you made such an irrational decision?"
Daeren said nothing, privately thinking that the man's instincts were truly sharp.
Tywin did not press further, instead asking solemnly, "Then tell me, kid."
"Do you need my help?"
The moment he had learned of the matter, he had urgently summoned Daeren.
He had even postponed the Small Council meeting.
A short while later.
Daeren left unharmed.
Tywin stared fixedly at the doorway, the hand resting on his desk unconsciously clenching and loosening.
Daeren had refused his offer.
It was as if he had calculated that he could suppress the matter himself.
"Is his dragon blood so potent?"
Tywin's brow furrowed deeply.
Then an inexplicable jealousy rose within him.
A fool like Aerys—how did he deserve to father a son like that?
Damn it!
Walking through the Red Keep's outer courtyard, Daeren gave up on the idea of seeing his father.
The fact that his teacher Tywin had summoned him already showed that the matter was not too serious.
Even if he went to see his father now, he would not receive any useful help. It would only backfire.
"Teacher is still as cunning as ever."
Daeren had read him perfectly.
From the start, the foundation of their teacher-student relationship had been that no interests would be involved.
Once Tywin opened his mouth—
Lannister aid would require repayment.
For example, Daeren would have to spend more time with Cersei and, when necessary, become engaged to and marry her.
Just as Rhaegar had married Elia Martell and gained the support of all Dorne.
If Daeren married Cersei, he would likewise gain the support of the entire Westerlands.
"A Lannister always pays his debts. The price is far too great."
Daeren was no fool, so he would not use marriage as a bargaining chip yet.
His unmarried status, along with the background of his future spouse, would be a prerequisite in determining whether the noble lords of the Seven Kingdoms would value him.
The Lannisters were ambitious.
And the nobles and lords of the Riverlands, The Reach, and elsewhere were naturally wary of Westerlands nobles.
Knowing the course of history, Daeren believed that the Riverlands and The Reach, where the Royal Family had the most loyal supporters, were the ones he should win over.
"Prince, I have good news."
Lord Owen met him head-on.
Daeren paused and asked, "What good news?"
Mud Gate, the Port.
Standing on the pier, Daeren saw a weathered three-masted sailing ship.
In plain terms, it was a wreck.
The ship was seventeen or eighteen meters long, with a dragon-head ram. Though the hull, deck, and other parts were damaged, its former luxury and grandeur were still apparent.
But...
Daeren said, "My lord, isn't this ship a little too run-down?"
Was it really capable of putting to sea?
"Prince, rest assured."
Lord Owen rubbed his hands together like a fly and chuckled. "Ever since you said last time that you wanted a ship capable of sailing out to sea, I've been asking around everywhere. I was even planning to pay out of pocket to hire one for you."
"Who would have thought I'd actually find this treasure in the royal treasury?"
"A treasure...?"
Daeren examined it again and again, admitting that perhaps he lacked discernment.
Lord Owen hurriedly explained, "The materials and craftsmanship of this ship are superb. The records say it came from distant Essos."
Whether it truly came from Essos was uncertain, but saying Essos made it sound valuable.
Fearing the Prince might doubt him, he explained the ship's origins.
The ship's first owner had been King Viserys I, on the eve of the Dance of the Dragons.
After Viserys I's eldest daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, came of age, the King gifted the ship to her so she could travel through the Seven Kingdoms and seek a suitable husband.
After the Dance of the Dragons ended, the young "Dragonbane," Aegon III, kept the ship as a memorial to his late mother.
After passing through countless hands for more than a century, it had survived to the present day.
After hearing the ship's history, Daeren fell silent for a moment.
"This ship... needs repairs, doesn't it?"
"Of course."
Lord Owen nodded repeatedly, proud that he had unearthed such a symbolic antique.
Even Lord Chelsted, the Master of Coin, might not have known the royal treasury as well as he did.
Daeren asked, "How long will it take to repair?"
He feared his father would stop him, and wanted a ship so he could sail freely.
But he did not want to die before he even set out.
"Three days. Three days at most."
Lord Owen thumped his chest in guarantee.
This ship came from the Targaryen kingdom's most prosperous era, and its materials and craftsmanship were exceptionally fine.
Aside from superficial damage, crucial parts such as the keel and masts had been preserved intact.
With some repairs, it would still be an excellent ship ahead of anything else in the Seven Kingdoms.
"I'll leave it to you."
Daeren shook his head and stopped doubting him.
Sometimes, he truly admired Lord Owen. The man could always dig out overlooked treasures from piles of junk.
How was that not a kind of talent?
"Stop right there, smuggler!"
"..."
The commotion broke Daeren's train of thought, and he curiously looked over.
Several accompanying Gold Cloaks drew their clubs and pinned down a middle-aged man dressed as a commoner.
Daeren had not intended to interfere, but the charge of smuggling and a small black-sailed boat filled with onions and beef caught his attention.
Taking a careful look—
The man had an ordinary face and a thin build, brown hair and brown eyes, and a thick gray beard.
He was quick-witted and eloquent, calmly trying to explain himself.
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