The dispute over a fief at the Small Council

In the Small Council Hall of the Red Keep this morning, the morning light had just slanted in through the high windows, falling on the grain of the oak table, but it couldn't dispel the stuffiness in the air.

Because of the increased number of invitees, twelve high-backed chairs were added this morning, surrounding the long table for the Small Council. Our "the Conciliator," Jaehaerys I, sat at the head of the table, his ivory-topped scepter leaning against the side of the chair, his long, well-defined hand resting on his forehead.

This was the third day of the Small Council since Daemon's return King's Landing Daemon's Landing after his wedding to Gael Dragonstone, and the arguments were like flies buzzing around the hall, making his temples throb.

"Bloodstone Island is absolutely not an option!" Leonno Strong's voice broke the brief silence. He was dressed in the dark blue brocade robe of the Master of Ships, with a bronze anchor badge hanging at his waist, his knuckles white from clenching his fists.

"The Stepstones have just been ravaged by war, and Bloodstone Island doesn't even have a proper dock. Princess Gael, of noble birth, how can she suffer in a place full of pirate ruins? Besides, His Majesty already decided in the first Small Council after the war that, apart from the majority being brought under the Iron Throne, the remaining tax revenue would be jointly managed by the Joint Fleet." If we were to appoint Daemon as Prince of Bloodstone Island and Guardian of the Stepstones, wouldn't that overturn the previous decision?

After all, Bloodstone Island is the core of the Stepstones. If Daemon is promoted to Prince of Bloodstone Island, he will inevitably be appointed as the Guardian of the Stone Steps Stepstones. If that happens, wouldn't the temporary governor's office of the Stepstones become nothing more than a decoration?

Moreover, the seven lords whose tax revenue interests have been affected will certainly target Damon, making him a target of public criticism and even affecting the reputation of the Iron Throne and the royal family in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

Furthermore, from the very first day Otto proposed Bloodstone Island, Queen Alysanne, who had unusually brought Lady Jocelyn Baratheon and Princess Rhaenys to the meeting, was so angry that she left!

Even before the Triarchy occupied the Stepstones, it was a no-man's-land occupied by pirates. For a long time, it was a pirate's lair, and chaos, desolation, and barrenness were its defining characteristics.

From its occupation by the Triarchy to its return to the Iron Throne in Westeros, the kingdom has endured countless wars, and its geographical location is extremely sensitive.

Not only the Queen couldn't stand her daughter going there, but even Lady Jocelyn couldn't stand the fact that "the sons" had fiefdoms there. Before Princess Renee helped the Queen leave the table, she angrily berated Otto for his intentions.

In recent days, the Queen has been nagging the King quite a bit, the Princess has been getting Lord Corlys, who is attending the meetings, to object repeatedly, and the Lady has even sent a letter to her family in Stormlands, Duke Boremund Baratheon, to express her dissent.

However, just as Lord Leonno, unusually speaking up this morning and leading the opposition, finished speaking, Otto Hightower, also a close friend of His Highness Viserys, coughed lightly.

Our Master of Laws, dressed in a dark green robe embroidered with the burning tower of the House Hightower at the collar, slowly straightened the hem of his robe, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. His tone was habitually calm. "Lord Leonno Strong is right; whether it's feasible or not isn't just a question of Bloodstone Island. While Crab Claw Peninsula is more fertile than Bloodstone Island, it's located within Crownlands's King's Landing— "

I still vividly remember last year, before the tournament celebrating His Majesty's fiftieth year of rule over the Seven Kingdoms, Count Bren Berna of Dyre Den, the most powerful lord of the Crab Claw Peninsula, directly kneeling before Prince Little Daemon at the Blackwater Rush docks and addressing him as "Lord."

These words were like a pebble thrown into boiling water. Jaehaerys's hand paused for a moment, and Baelon glared at Otto, his brows furrowed.

Otto, seemingly oblivious, continued, "The House Crabb, second only to the Brune family on the Crab Claw Peninsula, has a current Earl Rupert Crabb, the second son of the Little Daemon. He has followed Little Daemon since his travels to the Crab Claw Peninsula. If we grant him that land and the right to develop it, within three years, I fear the entire Crab Claw Peninsula will be flying his mutated Black Dragon flag. Moreover, a prince's fief King's Landing too close to the capital, Crownlands, and its power overlaps with the royal domain, which could cause trouble. This is not a way to maintain balance; it's like raising a tiger to cause future trouble."

He sneered inwardly: that Black Dragon now held more sway over the Crab Claw Peninsula than the Iron Throne. If he were to establish himself there, how would his friend Viserys succeed him after Jaehaerys and Baelon? The future of the House Hightower could not be ruined by a guy of unknown origin.

"Raising a tiger to cause trouble?" Leonno Strong slammed his fist on the table in anger at his friend's incomprehensible tirade, the bronze badge rattling slightly. "Otto Hightower, put your hand on your heart and tell me!"

Little Daemon, under the command of His Majesty and the Iron Throne, followed Crown Prince Baelon in pacifying the Stepstones.

Some time ago, they were able to subdue the Ironborn Iron Islands without shedding a drop of blood, thus once again conquering them.

And isn't it all thanks to His Highness Little Daemon? If His Highness hadn't twice repelled the Ironborn who dared to offend the seas of Westeros during his tour, would we have been able to achieve this so easily, without losing a single soldier?

Moreover, Your Highness helped House Crabb reclaim Whispering Castle, the home fortress occupied by the Wildlings, on Crab Claw Peninsula; led the allied forces of the lords in the Vale to relieve the Moon Gate Keep; mediated between House Bracken and Blackwood in the Riverlands; and repelled the Ironborn twice at Seagard and Lannisport —weren't all of these actions for the Iron Throne?

The Crab Claw Peninsula is barren. His Majesty and the Crown Prince discussed granting His Highness the right to develop it, so that His Highness could benefit the region. Moreover, His Majesty and the Crown Prince had already made up their minds. Why are you now bringing up this issue of overlapping powers?

You're clearly afraid that His Highness's prestige will become too high in the future, affecting your power, Otto Hightower!

Ser Leonno Strong was usually taciturn and reserved, but today, when he opened his mouth, coupled with his imposing physique and bald head, he was simply frightening. What's more, this fellow was also terrifyingly fair and honest, and was now famous throughout Westeros.

"Lord Leonno, please be careful with your words." Otto Hightower slightly raised his eyes, but his deep brown eyes revealed no warmth. "As the Master of Laws and a subject of the Iron Throne, I only concern myself with rules. Power needs checks and balances. If a prince's fief is too close to the Crownlands, it can easily lead to 'tax disputes' caused by private armies crossing the border. Must we repeat the lessons of His Majesty Maegor and the the Uncrowned Aegon?"

His words struck a chord with Jaehaerys —the old king's fingers gently rubbed the handle of his cane, his gaze falling on the three maps on the table:

The map of Bloodstone Island in the Stepstones depicts a dilapidated fortress, and many locations on Crab Claw Peninsula are marked as "uncultivated land." Summerhall, located at the junction of Stormlands, Reach, Dorne, has its border with Dorne circled in red.

The site of the Summerhall is the original location of the Summerhall in history. The Summerhall was built a hundred years after Daemon died in battle on the Red Grassland and traveled to this place a hundred years before.

It was founded a year after Daeron Targaryen, Daemon's half-brother and sister of King Daeron II, married Prince Daenerys House Martell of Prince of Dorne, to commemorate the peace established by the king.

However, that's a story for another time. The magnificent summer palace of the Targaryen Lineage in later generations— Summerhall— had not yet been built. The location on the map today is only the present-day Summerhall.

"Surely it would be feasible in the Summerhall?" Viserys quickly tried to smooth things over, his face full of embarrassment as he wore the silver brocade robes of the crown prince.

Both were his close friends; on one side was his good friend Leonno, and on the other was his equally close friend Otto. Caught in the middle, he could barely get a word in edgewise. "The lands of Summerhall are fertile, and as a prince's fiefdom, they are large enough, bordering the Stormlands and the Reach, only a Dorne— "

But Little Daemon has Glutton, many valiant followers, and the support of us and Duke Boremund Baratheon. Dorne dares not attack easily."

Otto shook his head and pointed to the map of Summerhall: "Your Highness Viserys, Summerhall is in the Dornish Marches, nestled between the Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne, near the end of Boneway."

Leaving the Boneway and heading east will lead to Summerhall. The Boneway is the main route across the Red Mountains, connecting Dorne and the Stormlands. Therefore, Summerhall has always been one of the most conflict-ridden places in the Dornish Marches.

If Little Daemon were to be enfeoffed there, tens of thousands of golden dragons from the Iron Throne would be needed annually to construct fortifications, strengthen defenses, and support the army.

"The Joint Fleet's expenses haven't been settled yet, and the grain tax in the Reach has been delayed by 30% due to last year's internal strife in the House Tyrell. Where will the money come from?"

He knew in his heart that while the Summerhall were certainly nice, they were too close to Stormlands, the core of the "matriarchal" power that House Baratheon Daemon now acknowledged.

However, by the same token, he is too close to the Dornish. Unless the Iron Throne allocates enough funds, this Black Dragon will be trapped. Given his past dislike for Dorne, he will become a caged beast, constantly entangled in friction with Dorne, and unable to achieve anything significant.

But that doesn't explain why this place can't be sealed off; now Otto can only use "military expenses" as an excuse.

Leonno's face turned ashen with rage. He wasn't good with words, and those earlier remarks had already infuriated him. He opened his mouth, only managing to utter a phrase Otto had used against him a few days ago. "You—you're deliberately making things difficult! Even a stone in the latrine is more reasonable than you!"

"Leonno!" Viserys quickly grabbed his arm. "Let's talk this out. Don't lose face as a minister."

He turned to his other friend Otto, his tone almost pleading, "Otto, Little Daemon is a Targaryen, we can't let him be without even a decent fiefdom, can we?"

Otto, however, did not budge. He merely bowed slightly and said, "Your Majesty, His Highness the Crown Prince, His Highness Viserys, and all the esteemed guests present, I am not trying to make things difficult for you, but only for the long-term stability of the Iron Throne."

His Highness Little Daemon has rendered outstanding service, and his fiefdom must be chosen with utmost care. A poor choice would not only be an injustice to him but also undermine the monarchy, resulting in a net loss.

Sitting beside Jaehaerys, Vaegon Targaryen sighed softly. He had been preparing to return to the Citadel for the past few days. Dressed in the Citadel's maester robes and with a chain around his neck, he flipped through the "Gazetteer of the Seven Kingdoms' Fiefs" on the table. "According to the records, a kinship fief must be far from the capital, avoid the borders, and be self-sufficient" —Bloodstone Island lacked self-sufficiency, Crab Claw Peninsula was close to the Crownlands, and Summerhall was near the borders; these were indeed all shortcomings.

But with Little Daemon's achievements, surely his fiefdom shouldn't be smaller than that of Earl? Does he expect Damon to abandon Gael and come with me to the Citadel to become a maester so soon after our marriage?"

His words silenced the hall again. His words were as sharp as they had been in his youth, but his ability to mock others, honed through years of academic study, was now at its peak.

The Grand Maester Alar sat in the corner. He was old, sick, and of little influence, and usually only had influence in academic matters and in quoting scriptures for the King.

Now, with Vaegon in the picture, he naturally had even less opportunity to speak these days. However, he still coughed lightly a few times, his voice so faint it was like a mosquito's buzz. "This old minister believes—perhaps some money could be allocated from the Iron Throne's private treasury to help Little Daemon repair his fiefdom castle—"

Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by hurried footsteps. The guards at the door lifted the curtain, and Ser Lyan Redwyne entered.

He was dressed in the white armor of the Kingsguard, with a similarly white cloak, and held the hilt of a longsword in his hand, clearly having just finished patrolling the outer perimeter.

He glanced at the arguing crowd, his brow furrowed so deeply it could trap a fly, but asked no further questions. He simply walked behind Jaehaerys, straightened his back, and stood still.

He preferred to safeguard the king's safety rather than listen to these arguments.

Behind Vaegon Targaryen and the Grand Maester of Alar, his assistant and student, Maester Bernard, twirled his quill pen with feigned impatience, ink still smeared on its links, as if he were in a hurry to return to the Citadel to organize documents.

"In my opinion, why not let Little Daemon choose for himself?" he muttered softly, his voice not loud, but everyone could hear him. "Let him choose whichever he wants, so you can save yourselves from arguing here."

Martyn Tyrell, sitting next to him, subtly nudged Lyman Beesbury's arm upon hearing this.

The former Master of Coin was dressed in a green brocade robe from the Reach, while his wife, Florence, sat in the shadows behind him, gesturing with her eyes for him to keep quiet.

Martyn understood, picked up the wine in front of him, took a small sip, but thought to himself: If Mathos knew about this in Highgarden, he would probably complain again about "not making a splash in the Reach." It's best to stay out of it.

Taimond Lannister and Corlys House Velaryon sat opposite each other, exchanged a glance, and said nothing.

Taimond, dressed in a golden robe from the Westerlands, toyed with the ruby on his ring.

He had already made a deal with Viserys; the Westerlands ' stance was set, and no matter how much the dispute over fiefdoms raged, it wouldn't affect him.

Corlys, dressed in the silver-blue brocade robes of the House Velaryon, had his gaze fixed on the map of Bloodstone Island. He hadn't had enough of being the interim governor, and Daemon's absence suited him perfectly.

"Ahem." Jaehaerys finally lowered his hand from his forehead, his aged voice tinged with weariness. "Where is Little Daemon? Why hasn't the main character of this argument arrived yet?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than light footsteps echoed from outside the hall, accompanied by the subtle rustling of a sword at the waist.

Daemon Targaryen lifted the curtain and entered. He was dressed in black riding attire, the collar of which was not fastened tightly. He was toying with a Dragonglass bead in his hand, and a few rose thorns from the Red Keep Gardens were still stuck to his crimson cloak.

"What's all the noise about?" He leaned against the doorframe, a blade of grass dangling from his lips. "I heard it all from outside. It couldn't be calling me, could it? It was louder than Caraxes's dragon roar."

However, no one responded to him; all eyes in the hall were focused on the doorway, and everyone seemed to be waiting for the true protagonist of this argument, Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen, to appear.

In the morning light, three maps lay quietly on the long table, like three destinies awaiting their turn, and the air in the Red Keep began to tighten once more.