The Loyal White Knight

Morning, 8:30.

"You two, lay eggs faster."

Daeren sat at the entrance of the Chicken Coop, stroking the two chicks back and forth.

The chicks grew quickly, their soft down gradually thickening.

"Coo coo coo."

Coconut, a white chick, nestled in the Farmer's arms, eyes half-closed, cooing in contentment.

Daeren set the chick down and brushed the dust off himself: "Alright, see you tomorrow."

He was busy enough to trip over his own heels.

After harvesting the first batch of potatoes, he kept two Silver Stars and one ordinary-quality potato for the next two days' meals, selling the remaining seven potatoes.

The payment hadn't arrived yet; it would probably come after he slept tonight.

He cleared a few obstructive trees, harvested some weeds, and stroked the chicks while they went out to graze.

Barring any surprises, this would be his daily routine for a long time to come.

"After receiving the mail, I need to send out two letters."

Daeren tidied himself up, picked up the fruit basket Lord Owen had given him, and casually placed two letters inside.

The mail he received was naturally from the Mailbox.

An invitation to go outside the farm, 7.5 kilometers east to the beach, to claim a Fishing Rod.

The letters he sent—one written last night, one this morning.

He walked out of Dragon Tongue Farm.

Daeren walked and looked around, spotting Ser Jon at the foot of the mountain, already up and training with a sword in his underclothes.

Without disturbing him, he wandered nearby.

Ever since acquiring the System Panel, he had felt subtle changes in his body, especially a heightened sensitivity to Life Force.

Along the way to Dragon Tongue Farm, he noticed several wildflowers and weeds faintly radiating an allure.

Perfect timing to search and boost his gathering experience.

Morning, 9:30.

"Ser Jon, good morning."

Daeren appeared before the camp.

Ser Jon, roasting a wild rabbit, quickly stood up: "Prince, did you rest well on the mountain last night?"

Leaving the Prince alone on that empty mountain—he feared the King would have his head lopped off and stuck on a spear.

"The cabin was cozy, the hearth fire warm."

Daeren chuckled, sat by the fire, set down the fruit basket, and pulled out the two letters.

"These are?"

"I'd trouble you to deliver them for me back in King's Landing."

Daeren got straight to the point: "One you must give to Grand Maester Pycelle, instructing him to send it by raven to Dragonstone, to my elder brother."

Hearing it involved Prince Rhaegar, Ser Jon perked up: "Yes, Prince. And the other?"

"Give it to my teacher, Tywin."

Daeren's words were startling.

Ser Jon froze, staring blankly at the Prince, his expression shifting from confusion to horror.

Teacher... Tywin...

Wait, forgive him—he knew each word separately, but together they made no sense.

Daeren remained blunt: "Hand it to my teacher, and tell him I am very satisfied with my fief."

He had revealed his secret.

After two or three years as Tywin's student, this was the first time it had ever come to light.

"Prince, I don't understand."

Ser Jon's expression was deeply conflicted.

Daeren told him directly: "Lord Tywin is my teacher—there is no doubt about that."

"My father, your Liege Lord, is in a very poor mental state and cannot give me the guidance I deserve."

"Lord Tywin is a qualified teacher. He has helped me immensely, and it is largely thanks to his mediation that I obtained this fief."

Ser Jon was utterly dumbfounded.

He looked at the Prince with an utterly unfamiliar gaze, as if meeting the young man he had known for months for the first time.

"Ser, I trust you."

Daeren handed over the letter and said, "You've protected me for two months and fifteen days. I think you'll understand my position."

The subtext was, "We should consider ourselves on the same side now."

Ser Jon remained silent.

Daeren then pushed the fruit basket at his feet forward and said, "Inside are Special Crops sent by Lord Owen. I'm passing them on to you."

"Prince, I am a Kingsguard!"

Ser Jon's eyes sharpened as he defended his honor without hesitation.

Daeren waved his hand. "I'm not foolish enough to think that something money can buy would bribe a White Knight loyal to honor."

Things money could buy weren't worth his effort.

Ser Jon demanded, "Then what do you mean? Tired of fine clothes and rich food?"

It was clear the man was genuinely angry.

Among the Kingsguard, Ser Jon, hailing from the Riverlands, was undoubtedly the most even-tempered, enduring all sorts of provocations from the King without complaint.

Now, his words carried barbs.

Daeren also sobered his expression and said seriously, "As I just said, Ser. I trust you."

"Out of trust, anything I give you asks for nothing in return."

Looking at Daeren's handsome face and repeatedly confirming it didn't seem like a lie, Ser Jon's expression softened slightly, and he said in a low voice, "Apologies, I lost my composure."

"A knight defending his own honor is only right and proper."

Daeren praised him and expressed understanding, pushing the fruit basket into his hands. "I've heard that Ser Oswell Whent, with the help of the other Kingsguard, has already mastered the use of Life Force. You wouldn't want to fall too far behind, would you?"

"Oswell...?"

Ser Jon murmured softly.

Seeing this, Daeren knew the man was tempted.

Since the Kingsguard's founding, it had always been a full complement of seven.

Among his father's Kingsguard, an old knight from the Stormlands was frail with age, bedridden and drowsy since last year, unlikely to survive this one.

The remaining six Kingsguard were all in their prime, at the peak of their physical condition.

"White Bull" Ser Gerold, Barristan the Bold, and Ser Jon Darry remained in King's Landing to protect their King.

"Sword of the Morning" Ser Arthur Dayne, Prince Lewyn, and Ser Oswell Whent had followed his elder brother Rhaegar after his marriage to Dragonstone.

"Heh, they really dare!"

Daeren sneered inwardly.

No wonder his father despised Rhaegar and planned to strip him of his heir status—it wasn't without reason.

Out of six available Kingsguard, you, a crown prince, take three.

Those were the King's personal guards.

He wasn't even bothering to hide his ambition to seize power.

"Prince, I..."

After deep deliberation, Ser Jon still felt it was inappropriate.

At heart, he favored the older Prince Rhaegar over the younger Prince Daeren.

The reason he hadn't gone to Dragonstone with Prince Rhaegar was twofold.

First, they weren't close enough.

Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn, as Dornishmen, naturally followed Prince Rhaegar, who had married a Dornish princess.

Ser Oswell was Prince Rhaegar's close friend, and the two were inseparable from Lord Jon Connington of Griffin's Roost.

Second, the King needed protection.

Not all the Kingsguard could leave—who would protect the King?

Daeren saw his hesitation and cut in, "Ser, I said I want nothing in return. Your strength advancing will better protect both me and my father."

Ser Jon thought it over, gritted his teeth, and nodded. "Alright, thank you, Prince."

Several of his sworn brothers among the Kingsguard had already mastered Life Force, leaving him behind.

Since the Prince had spoken so plainly.

With no lingering worries, his pride wouldn't allow him to fall behind others.