"Bronze Fury" in the dead of night

As the golden-red afterglow of the setting sun gradually sank into Blackwater Bay, it dyed the bluestone steps of Blackwater Wharf a honey color.

Viserys stood on the pier, speaking quietly with Earl Massey. The hem of his red and black tuxedo brushed against the dew-kissed grass. Every now and then, he gestured to indicate the layout of the famous year-end tournament. Aemma, meanwhile, gently coaxed Rhaenyra in her arms. The drowsy little princess had finally managed to leave Daemon's embrace, her small hand still clutching the Blackfyre she had "stolen" from Daemon again that day, her eyes drowsy and unsteady.

Leonno Strong walked over to Larys, his bald head gleaming faintly in the twilight, and looked at his second son, who had arrived late after processing the intelligence.

Larys's dark circles and noticeably thinner jawline were evident. Looking at Larys, Leonno's tone carried a barely perceptible worry. "You must be exhausted from handling intelligence with Prince Little Daemon lately, right? Didn't you hear a single word about Count Berna Count Bren's previous loyalty to Little Daemon during his tours?"

Larys leaned on his cane, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the pebbles on the ground. He shrugged slightly, his dark eyes devoid of their usual cunning, only showing signs of weariness. "Father, I joined His Highness's ranks after the Reach. I only heard about the Crab Claw Peninsula from occasional mentions by Rayford, Jarman, and Myles. How could I know such details? Besides, His Highness's ranks were so small back then, who would have thought that this Earl Berna would swear allegiance to His Highness so early on?"

He paused, then added, "Sir Clymont, the Kingsguard who read the royal decree at the time, kept his mouth shut, and the House Crabb, including Rupert, didn't say a word either. It's perfectly normal that this matter has been kept hidden until now."

Leonno sighed, didn't press further, and simply patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you shouldn't be staying up so late every night lately. No matter how urgent the intelligence is, you have to take care of your health."

Larys nodded in agreement, but his gaze unconsciously drifted towards the Red Keep in the distance—the lights there were gradually coming on, like stars scattered in the night. He knew that tonight's events were probably not over yet.

Otto Hightower, who was not far away, had been frowning the whole time, and the cuffs of his green suit were wrinkled from being gripped so tightly.

He watched Daemon take Rhaenyra from Aemma and talk to Berna, and then he recalled the scene of Berna kneeling on one knee and calling "My Lord" earlier. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed the hilt of his sword, and his eyes were full of malice.

The unusual movements of the Triarchy, the actions of Corlys House Velaryon, this "Sea Snake," in Braavos, and the fact that this Black Dragon Prince had previously secretly pledged allegiance to the lord—all of these things made him uneasy, yet he couldn't find a reason to cause trouble. He could only stand there, letting his thoughts churn.

"Your Viserys!" A light footstep sounded, and Daemon Targaryen patted his brother Viserys on the shoulder with an extremely formal address, the chains on his golden robes jingling. "I've taken care of the Gold Cloaks. If the squad leader on duty today dares to slack off, I'll transfer him to guard the city gates tomorrow!"

As he spoke, he glanced towards the Flea Bottom, a sly smile playing on his lips. "As for me, I'll take the rest of the brothers to 'go for a stroll' first, and we'll return to the Red Keep later."

Viserys shook his head helplessly, reaching out to pull him, but the man nimbly dodged him. "You—don't get drunk again and have the Gold Cloaks carry you back. Then Grandpa and Father—"

Before Viserys could finish speaking, Daemon Targaryen walked away without even turning his head, merely waving his hand before disappearing into the depths of King's Landing's streets with a few trusted squires and his brothers in Gold Cloaks who were off duty that day.

A helpless Viserys gave Daemon a wry smile, "Look at him, still so unreliable, not at all like a younger brother who listens to his older brother."

Daemon held Rhaenyra in his arms, a hint of a smile flashing in his pale purple eyes, "He knows what he's doing now, he won't cause any trouble."

Having said that, he gestured to Rayford and Colin to arrange for the lords who had come to King's Landing that day to go to their lodgings in King's Landing, while he himself, Viserys, Aemma headed toward the Red Keep.

As night deepened, vendors in King's Landing gradually packed up their stalls, leaving only a few taverns still lit, from which the faint sounds of singing and laughter mingled with the chimes of the Red Keep, creating a sense of tranquility.

When they returned to the Intelligence Minister's study in the Red Keep, the candles had burned down to almost nothing.

Larys and Jarman were already waiting inside. In front of Larys was half a roll of old files, his fingertips stained with ink, and the dark circles under his eyes were even heavier than during the day.

Jarman leaned against the wall, his one eye scanning the doorway warily, the dagger at his waist always held firmly in his palm.

"Nothing unusual was found during today's patrol," Jarman said first, his voice low. "The Dark Blade Guard's strongholds have all been fortified as you instructed, and the Gold Cloaks has been very cooperative; there haven't been any incidents."

Larys then handed over a roll of parchment. "This is a compilation of old files. We discovered that the Triarchy stockpiled a lot of ballistae on the Stepstones last year, and also— Braavos has recently had merchant ships frequently traveling to and from Tidehead Island, as if they're trading with the Sea Snake."

Daemon took the parchment, his fingertips tracing the dense writing. Just as he was about to speak, the House Royce twins, who were on duty for the day, pushed open the door and entered respectfully. "Your Highness, Count Bartimos Celtigar of Crab Island requests an Earl, saying he has urgent intelligence to report."

Daemon paused, exchanging glances with Larys and Jarman, both of them filled with surprise—this old crab had just been spouting nonsense at the docks during the day, and now he was showing up at their door again at night; clearly, things weren't that simple.

Daemon sighed and nodded to the House Royce twins, "Let him in."

Bartimos quickly entered the study, his black robe still damp with night dew, the crab claw gold chain at his waist jingling. As soon as he entered, his gaze swept over Larys and Jarman, his brow furrowing slightly, before he looked at Daemon with a questioning look.

Daemon replied calmly, "Larys and Jarman are both people I trust and capable assistants. You can speak frankly." However, as soon as Daemon finished speaking, he only saw that the other party's brows were still furrowed. Seeing this, he could only wave his hand to indicate, "Larys, Jarman, you may leave."

The two bowed in agreement. As Larys passed Bartimos, a hint of inquiry flashed in his dark eyes, but he didn't linger.

The moment the study door closed, Bartimos immediately leaned in, his voice hushed. "Your Highness, I have two important matters to report today. First, the Triarchy has been making frequent moves lately; the fleets of Lys, Tyrosh, Myr are all gathering at the Stepstones, seemingly intending to retake Bloodstone Island. Second, the Sea Snake Corlys has been quite active in Braavos. He is secretly supporting a candidate for the next Sea King and even wants Miss Laena to be engaged to the candidate's son, thus establishing a family alliance—he's trying to extend his influence beyond the Narrow Sea!"

As he spoke, his eyes were filled with an eagerness to "take credit," as if he had brought earth-shattering intelligence.

Daemon's hand holding the parchment remained still, but he was inwardly both amused and exasperated—he already knew about the unusual movements of the Three Cities Alliance from the secret reports of the Dark Blade Guard and the reactions of the coastal lords during his tour;

The Sea Snake's subtle actions were likely known not only to Jaehaerys and Baelon, but also to Larys in his intelligence files.

This old crab was clearly pretending to be ignorant, using the information he had intentionally or unintentionally passed on through letters to Colin to deliberately curry favor.

But he still reluctantly frowned, his tone tinged with surprise. "Is that so? Thank you for informing me, Your Earl. I will report this to my grandfather and Uncle Baelon tomorrow."

Bartimos immediately smiled, about to say something more, when Daemon stood up and said calmly, "It's late, Earl Excellency. You should go back to your room and rest. Your private visit today might already be bringing reports to His Majesty's desk."

A sly glint flashed in Bartimos's eyes, but he still bowed respectfully. "Your Highness is right. This old minister will take his leave now."

As he turned to leave, a smile crept onto his lips, and his steps quickened, as if he had achieved some goal.

Daemon watched his retreating figure, his fingertips lightly tapping the table, his lips twitching. This old crab wasn't here to deliver a message at all; he was clearly deliberately leaving traces of "private contact" so that the king would know of his closeness to him. He was scheming more shrewd than anyone else.

Meanwhile, in the highest chamber of the Red Keep, the King's study, candlelight flickered, casting a long shadow of Jaehaerys.

Otto Hightower pushed open the study door, the shoulder of his green tuxedo gleaming coldly. He bowed to the King, his voice urgent. "Your Majesty, today at Blackwater Bay, during the welcoming of the princes, Earl Berna Count Bren of Crab Claw Peninsula publicly swore allegiance to His Highness Daemon, calling him 'my lord'! Such private dealings are fraught with danger to the Iron Throne!"

Jaehaerys sat behind the table, holding a scroll of intelligence detailing Berna's pledge of allegiance earlier that day. He looked up at Otto, his tone flat. "Can't Earl Berna also pledge allegiance to the Iron Throne just because he's loyal to Little Daemon.? Count Bren entrusted him to Little Daemon. before his death, and he voluntarily accepted my previous appointment to guard Crab Claw Peninsula with Earl Crabb, ensuring the people's well-being. Isn't this the kind of loyalty the Iron Throne needs?"

Otto paused, then said, "But... but Prince Daemon Blackfyre is, after all,..."

Before he could finish speaking, Jaehaerys waved his hand to interrupt him, "What 'buts'? He's my grandson, a Targaryen."

The old king's voice carried an unquestionable authority, "I knew about this back when Little Daemon left Crab Claw Peninsula. Berna Earl's loyalty is commendable, and Little Daemon has not become arrogant because of favor. Why do you keep bringing it up?"

Otto, unwilling to give up, stepped forward again. "Your Majesty, there is one more thing! Earl Bartimos Celtigar of Crab Island secretly went to Prince Daemon Blackfyre's study tonight, and the two talked for a long time behind closed doors. I wonder what they were plotting!"

He thought this would make the king take it seriously, but then he saw Jaehaerys point to another scroll of intelligence on the corner of the table, which read "Bartimos visits the Minister of Intelligence's study at night," the ink not yet completely dry.

"You want to know what they talked about?" Jaehaerys's tone was tinged with sarcasm. "The security measures in the Intelligence Minister's study were personally ordered by me. Even I can't get any information from inside, so how would you know?"

He put down the intelligence report, his fingertips lightly tapping the table, a flash of Bronze Fury in his eyes. "Otto, I know your loyalty, and I've tacitly approved of you helping Viserys to counterbalance Daemon. But remember, don't overstep your bounds. Little Daemon is also my grandson; he's not someone you can offend at will."

Otto's face turned deathly pale, cold sweat streamed down his forehead, and he knelt down, his voice trembling. "Your Majesty, I have overstepped my bounds, please forgive me."

Jaehaerys didn't look at him again, but simply waved his hand. "Step down. Remember, the balance of the Iron Throne of the Targaryen Lineage is not maintained by suspicion and framing, but by bloodline and responsibility."

Otto slowly bowed and left the study. As the door closed, he could still hear the king's fingertips tapping on the desk, like an alarm bell striking his heart.

In the study, Jaehaerys gazed out the window toward the Dragonpit, moonlight streaming through the high arched window and falling on his aged figure.

He picked up the intelligence report from Bartimos's nighttime visit, his fingertips tracing the words "Daemon Blackfyre," and sighed softly, "I hope you understand that Grandpa's decisions were all for the future of the Targaryen. Aegon (the Uncrowned)"

The tragedy of Maegor must not be repeated.

The candlelight flickered, casting the old king's shadow on the wall, like a silent barrier guarding the family's secrets and the "Dark Blade" on which so much hope was placed.

As night deepened, the chimes of the Red Keep mingled with the distant murmurs of Glutton, bringing a somber end to this night filled with tension and intrigue.