The next morning.
Daeren headed to the royal treasury to withdraw the first funds for his fief.
Just last night, he had learned the details of the fief from Tywin.
It lay on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush: two thousand square kilometers of royal demesne.
Its jurisdiction included the rivers and mountains within its borders, the beaches along the East Coast, and part of the Kingswood.
The area was astonishingly vast.
For those unfamiliar with its exact location, it could be compared to King's Landing.
The Blackwater Rush was a deep, swift river that connected to the outlet of Blackwater Bay.
King's Landing sat on the river's north bank, and Mud Gate, one of its seven great gates, had been developed into a world-famous port.
Daeren's fief lay directly across the river on the south bank.
It had always been royal demesne and had only been granted out once in history.
Its previous owner had been Daemon Blackfyre.
"A fine fief indeed."
Seated atop his horse, Daeren turned his head and shared his delight.
Ser Jon merely nodded, as stern and taciturn as ever.
Before long, the iron gates of the royal treasury came into view.
An acquaintance was waiting on the road before them. Two guards followed behind him, yet he paid them no mind as he trotted over in an almost ungainly hurry.
"Lord Owen?" Daeren dismounted.
The man was none other than Owen Marryweather, his father Aerys's lackey, whose life at court had not been going particularly well.
The man knew only how to flatter others and possessed not the slightest talent.
The strongest impression Daeren had of him was probably how he always laughed loudly to support his father Aerys, earning himself the private nickname of the grinning fool.
"Prince, I did not expect you to rise so early."
Unlike Daeren's surprise, Lord Owen was all smiles.
Before Daeren could say anything, he stuffed an exquisite fruit basket decorated with flowers into his arms.
"The King sent me to withdraw the funds for you. Since there was no public announcement, I could only prepare a private congratulatory gift."
Afraid Daeren might refuse, Lord Owen eagerly explained, "Look, Prince. These are fruits and vegetables produced at Merryweather Estate. I selected a little of everything for you."
Daeren lifted the thin gauze handkerchief covering the basket, and a faint fruity fragrance wafted into his nose.
Several kinds of fruits and vegetables were packed tightly inside.
Two apples, one red and one green; a cluster of plump Black Rose grapes; an orange, an ear of corn, a handful of wild fruit, half a bunch of bananas...
The portions were small, but the variety was excellent.
Daeren frowned slightly as he looked at Lord Owen's expectant gaze, unsure what to say.
These were no ordinary fruits and vegetables. Every one of them contained Life Force.
Special Crops were incredibly wondrous.
They could be an apple on a tree, a pumpkin in a vegetable field, or even wild greens growing by the roadside.
All Special Crops shared one trait: [Hidden]
Before being harvested, they were exactly the same as ordinary crops and Wild Plants. Even an old farmer who had labored for decades could not tell the difference.
But after harvest, anyone could recognize them at a glance.
Like a bonfire lit in the dead of night, no one short of blind could possibly overlook them.
Powerful knights had a chance of learning to wield Life Force after eating them, while ordinary people could maintain good health through long-term consumption.
That was precisely why their prices were outrageously high.
"This is far too valuable." Daeren sighed softly, intending to decline.
Special Crops were also graded according to variety and nutritional value.
They ranged from ordinary grade to Silver Star and Gold Star, each further divided into high, middle, and low tiers.
Silver Star quality was already exceedingly precious, while Gold Star was something one could only hope to encounter by chance.
Among the fruits and vegetables in this basket, the two apples and the ear of corn alone were Silver Star quality. Their value was estimated at over three hundred Gold Dragons.
Lord Owen hurriedly said, "Prince, you should know my House's words."
As he spoke, he puffed out his chest, displaying the family crest he wore: a golden cornucopia spilling melons, fruits, and delicacies upon a white field.
House Merryweather was an ancient noble house of The Reach, blessed with noble blood.
Its words were: "Behold My Gift!"
Lord Owen chuckled and pulled a bottle of warm milk from his robes. "Prince, you have probably not eaten breakfast yet. Drink some milk to warm your stomach."
Taking the transparent glass bottle full of milk, Daeren discovered that this milk also contained a faint trace of Life Force.
"What a wealthy household." Daeren could not help but admire him.
Lord Owen was deeply proud of that. "The Seven have blessed us. Just as our sigil and words proclaim, our lands produce far more Special Crops than those of other houses."
"Take this bottle of milk, for example. It comes from a cow that accidentally ate a Special Crop. It can produce a bottleful every day."
Other crops were manageable enough; after setting aside some to train knights, the family could consume the rest internally.
But a cow that could steadily produce milk containing Life Force could bring an endless stream of wealth.
Many Reach nobles were willing to pay high prices to order milk for their children.
At this point, refusing would be impolite.
Daeren accepted the man's goodwill and nodded faintly in thanks. He said sincerely, "Lord Owen, you have a heart of gold."
To be honest, this was the first noble to openly invest in him.
And he was doing so so blatantly, without the slightest attempt at concealment.
If Daeren refused his goodwill, those who supported Rhaegar would certainly not pretend to be deaf and mute. They would inevitably force him out of court.
His teacher Tywin had once taught him:
"When someone rises to challenge you, answer them resolutely with iron and fire. But when they kneel in submission, you must personally help them back to their feet. Otherwise, no one will ever be willing to submit to you again."
The same principle applied in different situations.
Daeren would not be arrogant enough to slap away the goodwill of a noble lord who was trying to curry favor with him.
Since he had never tasted dairy from a special animal before, he opened the bottle and took a sip.
As the milk slid down his throat, a faint warm current gradually rose in his lower abdomen, leaving his body pleasantly warm.
Daeren's heart stirred, but he revealed no emotion as he evaluated it. "A bottle of milk is roughly as effective as an ordinary-quality Special Crop. Very good."
"Haha, you flatter me."
Having received approval and praise, Lord Owen beamed.
Without any cumbersome procedures, he immediately withdrew five hundred Gold Dragons and handed them to Daeren.
"Then we should be on our way, my lord."
Daeren finished the milk, handed the medium-sized wooden box filled with Gold Dragons to Ser Jon, and mounted his horse while holding the reins.
Having once again witnessed the value of Special Crops, he could hardly wait to rush toward his fief.
However, his true goal was not the fief itself, but choosing a plot of land suitable for a farm.
As for startup capital, five hundred Gold Dragons would be enough.
Currency conversion: 1 Gold Dragon = 210 Silver Stags, 1 Silver Stag = 56 Copper Stars, 1 Copper Star = 8 Copper Pennies
Nobles usually used Gold Dragons, while knights and commoners mostly used the latter three currencies.
At current prices, one Copper Penny could buy a grilled sausage and a large mug of ale. One Silver Stag could buy mutton, pork, several stews, and several large mugs of ale at an inn, and the innkeeper would still have to give you a large handful of Copper Pennies in change.
A suit of armor, including fine chainmail, a gorget, greaves, and a full helm, cost around four Gold Dragons.
A fine-bred fast horse was even cheaper.
The purchasing power was astonishing.
It was nothing like the inflation of some later deer-house dynasty, where one Gold Dragon could not buy mutton and one Silver Stag could only be exchanged for a pumpkin.
Yes, Robert Baratheon, I am talking about you.
Daeren was in high spirits as he spurred his horse forward.
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