Unexpected Joy!

"Hmph, I say it's you, the Master of Whispers, who's been negligent in your duties."

Count Tywin Simon unceremoniously passed the buck.

As the Minister of Justice, he was responsible for the security of King's Landing and was the direct superior of the Commander of the City Watch.

With such a major incident, he'd die if he didn't shift the blame.

Varys, choked with anger, forced a smile. "Lord Simon, perhaps you should save your words for His Majesty."

Even a eunuch wasn't to be trifled with.

Count Lucerys had no mood for the farce and interrupted, "My lords, instead of shifting responsibility, why don't we think of a solution?"

A noble of Valyrian blood, Count Lucerys possessed the characteristic silver hair and blue eyes.

In the prime of his life at 40, he carried himself with a certain gravitas.

Count Simon said urgently, "This matter has too great an impact, and many subjects have been affected. Why don't we send a letter to Dragonstone and ask Prince Rhaegar to return and take charge?"

"Lord Simon, are you an idiot?"

Count Chester's expression changed, his words devoid of discrimination, but rather a serious inquiry towards someone with special needs.

The Crown Prince, Rhaegar!

Every single person present had slandered Rhaegar before the King to gain favor.

If they invited Prince Rhaegar back...

Whether DaerenPrince would be alright was unknown.

But they, the acknowledged sycophants of the Seven Kingdoms, would all be purged.

Count Simon realized his slip of the tongue and dejectedly lowered his head, raking his sparse hair with his hands.

Finally, Count Chester and Count Lucerys discussed a plan.

The former would report to the King and "smooth over" the incident.

The latter would cooperate with DaerenPrince to quell public opinion as quickly as possible.

At the end of the day, it was just arresting a group of criminals.

Although the methods were somewhat heartless, they were still legal and justifiable.

As long as they silenced the nobles whose "businesses" were affected and presented a few scapegoats to appease the commoners, a major incident could be turned into a minor one, and a minor one could be quietly resolved.

The council adjourned.

Varys remained seated, lost in self-doubt.

He pondered whether his actions in helping DaerenPrince were correct.

Tower of the Hand.

After washing up, Daeren appeared here.

"Kid, look at the mess you've made."

Tywin spoke calmly.

He wasn't angry or dismissive.

He was merely stating facts.

"You purged the rot within the Gold Cloaks, selected qualified soldiers, and installed your loyalists. You did well on these fronts."

"However, your mass arrests of criminals have alarmed the entire city. This will bring extremely unfavorable public opinion to your reputation."

The Hand of the King remained clear-headed, rationally analyzing the pros and cons.

Seeing Daeren's silence, he stood up from his seat and asked, "What reason made you so desperate to make such an irrational decision?"

Daeren remained silent, thinking how sharp the other man's senses were.

Tywin didn't press further and said seriously, "Then, tell me, kid."

"Do you need my help?"

Upon learning of the matter, he had urgently summoned the young prince.

He had even pushed aside the Small Council meeting.

A short while later.

Daeren left safely.

Tywin stared intently out the door, his hand on the table clenching and unclenching unconsciously.

The young prince had refused his offer.

It was as if he was certain he could suppress this matter.

"Is the dragon blood strong?"

Tywin frowned deeply.

A strange jealousy welled up in his heart.

Why should that idiot Irys have such a son?

Hateful!

Walking through the front courtyard of the Red Keep, Daeren abandoned the idea of meeting his father.

His teacher, Tywin, had summoned him, which meant he wasn't gravely ill. Going to see his father now wouldn't offer any useful help; it would only be counterproductive.

"Teacher is still as cunning as ever."

Daeren had a firm grasp of the situation.

From the very beginning, the premise of their teacher-student relationship was the absence of personal gain.

If Tywin were to speak, Lannister's help would necessitate a return.

For example, he would need to interact more with Cersei, and if necessary, get engaged and marry her.

It would be like Rhaegar marrying Elia Martell, thereby securing the support of all of Dorne.

If he married Cersei, he would win the support of the Westerlands.

"Lannister always repays its debts, but the price is too high."

Daeren wasn't a fool; he wouldn't use his marriage as a bargaining chip now.

His unmarried status, and the background of his future spouse, would be crucial prerequisites for determining whether the noble lords of the Seven Kingdoms would value him.

Lannister was ambitious.

Meanwhile, the lords and nobles of the Riverlands and the Reach naturally rejected the nobles of the Westerlands.

Daeren, familiar with the course of history, believed his best allies would be found in the Riverlands and the Reach, regions with the most loyal vassals to the crown.

"My Prince, I have good news."

Lord Owen met him head-on.

Daeren paused and asked, "What good news?"

Mud Gate, the harbor.

Daeren stood on the dock, gazing at a three-masted sailing ship that exuded a sense of age.

To put it plainly: it was dilapidated.

The ship was about seventeen to eighteen meters long, with a dragon-head shaped ram. Despite damage to its hull and deck, its former luxury and grandeur were still evident.

However...

Daeren: "My lord, isn't this ship a bit too run-down?"

Did it even have the seaworthiness to sail?

"My Prince, have no worries."

Lord Owen rubbed his hands together like a fly and chuckled, "Ever since you mentioned wanting a seaworthy ship last time, I've been searching everywhere. I was even considering funding a hired ship myself."

"Who would have thought I'd actually find this treasure in the royal treasury."

"Treasure...?"

Daeren examined it repeatedly, admitting his eyesight was poor.

Lord Owen quickly added, "The materials and craftsmanship of this ship are excellent. Historical records indicate it comes from distant Essos."

Whether it truly came from Essos was unknown, but mentioning Essos would make it sound more valuable.

Fearing the Prince might doubt him, he explained the ship's origin.

The first owner of this ship was King Viserys I, before the Dance of the Dragons.

After Viserys I's eldest daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, came of age, the king gifted the ship to his daughter, allowing her to sail the Seven Kingdoms in search of suitable royal consorts.

After the Dance of the Dragons, the ship was kept by the young "Dragonbane" Aegon III, as a memorial to his deceased mother.

Having passed through many hands for over a hundred years, it had survived to this day.

After hearing the ship's history, Daeren fell silent for a moment.

"This ship... needs repairs, right?"

"Of course."

Lord Owen nodded repeatedly, proud that he could unearth such a symbolic antique.

Even Lord Chesterton, the Master of Coin, couldn't be more familiar with the royal treasury than he was.

Daeren: "How long will it take to repair?"

He was worried his father would stop him, wanting a ship to sail the seas freely.

But he didn't want to die before he could even set sail.

"Three days, three days at most."

Lord Owen patted his chest and guaranteed it.

This ship came from the most prosperous period of the Targaryen Kingdom, and the materials and craftsmanship were quite high.

Aside from some surface damage, the keel, mast, and other critical parts were well-preserved.

With a few repairs, it would still be a superior ship in the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll leave it to you."

Daeren shook his head, no longer doubting.

Sometimes he truly admired Lord Owen, always able to find overlooked treasures in piles of junk.

Wasn't that a kind of talent?

"Stop, smuggler!"

"..."

A commotion broke his thoughts, and Daeren curiously turned his gaze.

Several accompanying Gold Cloaks drew clubs and pinned down a middle-aged man dressed as a commoner.

Daeren hadn't intended to intervene, but he was drawn in by the title "smuggler" and a small black-sailed boat laden with onions and beef.

He took a closer look.

The man had an ordinary appearance, was thin, had brown hair and brown eyes, and a thick gray beard.

He was eloquent, currently trying to explain himself in a polite manner.