Talent gathered, an oath to begin anew

As the morning light of Dragon's Roost Port once again spills through the cracks in the castle's foundation, the shouts of the sailors on the docks intertwine with the clanging of the Smith in the workshops, creating a vibrant symphony that resonates throughout Dragon's Roost Port every morning.

As always, Daemon faced the rising sun over the sea, standing on the high platform of his and Gael's temporary residence, his Blackfyre slung across his waist as always, his gaze sweeping over the surging crowd below.

Since the oath was sworn on the cloud yesterday, the atmosphere in Dragon's Nest Harbor has become more restless. This morning, the "recruitment order" personally drafted and issued by Damon and to be sent to the seven kingdoms of Westeros will undoubtedly push this restlessness to a new peak.

Rayford Rosby, holding a parchment scroll with gold-embossed edges, strode quickly onto the platform.

The charcoal writing on the parchment scroll was vigorous and powerful, and the top was stamped with a seal in the shape of Blackfyre. The pattern, intertwined with Daemon's red background, black three-headed dragon, variant Targaryen sigil, and personal crest, was Daemon's own recruitment order, "Anyone with a skill, regardless of background or bloodline, who is willing to dedicate themselves to the construction of the Prince Blackfyre's territory and the development of the Crab Claw Peninsula, may come and apply."

Whether skilled in farming, craftsmanship, martial arts, or literature, or adept at trade, exploration, or medicine, this king will treat all with courtesy, appoint them to positions, provide them with stipends, and promise them protection.

"Post it," Daemon's voice was steady, yet it seemed to carry a power that could penetrate the crowd.

"All the docks, workshops, terraced fields, and markets within the Crownlands, wherever people gather, and even the entire peninsula, must be marked with stickers."

Furthermore, have Jarman send his Shadow Guards to deliver the copy to the surrounding villages and towns, informing Berna, Rupert, Colin, and others, and mobilizing all messengers and ravens of the nobles throughout the Crownlands and the entire peninsula.

I will let the whole Westeros know of my resolve today, even the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea, I will make sure they hear our voices, and let all the world know that my Crownlands of Daemon Blackfyre need every talented person.

Rayford bowed in agreement and turned to arrange for people to post the recruitment notice.

Within half an hour, a huge uproar had broken out in Dragon's Roost Port.

The refugees cheered as the recruitment notice officially recognized their status and their hard work over the past few days. Many skilled blacksmiths and shipbuilders immediately put down their tools and rushed towards the castle.

Even the most cautious merchants are now carrying their trade ledgers, wondering if they can contribute to the trade routes of the Crownlands where they now live.

This wave was far more rapid than Daemon had anticipated.

Several days later, one morning, the first group to respond to the call for talent arrived at Dragon's Roost Port. Among them were commoners carrying their belongings, as well as members of noble families clad in simple armor.

Most of them were the second or third sons of their families, or unacknowledged illegitimate children who had little chance of advancement in their hometowns. Upon hearing that Daemon was recruiting talented individuals, they packed their meager belongings and traveled thousands of miles to come to him.

The first person to step into the castle courtyard was a young boy dressed in the North- style leather armor.

He stood tall and straight, his face weathered but unable to conceal the vitality in his eyes. The moment he saw Daemon, he strode forward and knelt on one knee. "Herman Dustin, second son of Earl Rodrik Dustin of the Barrowton House Dustin in the the North, greets His Prince Blackfyre!"

Daemon recognized him immediately.

When he traveled to the the North, he had a banquet with Earl Rodrik Dustin, who was traveling with him, at Barrowton. Herman was the most lively child at the banquet, always pestering Rayford and the others to ask about the customs and culture of the South.

Now, when they meet again, the boy, like many of Daemon's followers, has grown up. His leather armor is still covered in the dust of his journey, and he is followed by two attendants dressed in similar attire. Their eyes and brows reveal a ruggedness unique to the people of the the North.

"Herman, get up." Daemon personally helped him up, his gaze sweeping over the attendants behind him. "And who are these two?"

"Your Highness, they are our Dustin's vassals, Rona Stau, the second son of House Stout of Goldgrass, Wendon Stau, the third son."

Herman introduced them with a smile, and the brothers Rona Wendon immediately bowed as well. "They also heard about His Highness's decree to recruit talents and insisted on coming south with me, saying they wanted to see the Black Dragon Prince's might firsthand and also wanted to serve His Highness."

Daemon nodded, gesturing for the three to sit down and talk.

A maid brought over a glass of warmed ale. Herman took it, took a sip, and continued, "Your Highness, you should know that my elder William is still serving as a squire to our Lord Ellard Stark in Winterfell. As for our younger brother Beren, that lad has been a bookworm since childhood. Thanks to your travels and the introduction to the Citadel, he's currently studying Citadel."

"To be honest, he originally intended to abandon his studies at the Citadel and come to serve His Highness, but it was only through your introduction of Vaegon Vaegon, his assistant Maester Bernard who is now his tutor, and a letter from my father that he was persuaded to stay."

"Oh?" Daemon raised an eyebrow, recalling the little boy who had followed them on their journey from Barrowton to Oldtown. Back then, he always carried a thick book, unlike other the North children who preferred hunting and drinking. "Beren is quite a special child. In your the North, it's not common to see someone aspiring to be a scholar."

"Indeed!" Herman smiled helplessly. "My father always said he didn't seem like one of us House Dustin, but more like a scholar from the Reach."

However, I've heard that this lad is studying diligently in the Citadel. His tutor, Maester Bernard, has written to say that he has considerable talent and will definitely serve under His Highness once he completes his studies.

Daemon nodded, understanding dawning on his eyes.

It's good that Beren stays in the Citadel; the future development of the Crownlands will benefit from the help of one of their own, a maester from the Citadel.

He looked at Herman and asked, "And you, Herman, what do you intend to do in the Crownlands this time you've left home?"

"I want to go with Your Highness to develop the wasteland in the center of the peninsula!" Herman's eyes flashed with excitement. "I also learned a few days of land management with my father and elder brother in the the North. Besides hunting and fighting, I also know some blacksmithing and defense. Isn't Your Highness planning to develop the Crab Claw Peninsula?"

The swamps and woodlands of those Wildlings in the central region are in dire need of reclamation; I'd like to give it a try!

A hint of approval flashed in Daemon's eyes. Herman's energy and pragmatism were exactly what the Crownlands needed now.

Just as he was about to agree, Jarman Vishye hurried over, mimicking his friends Miss Rivers and Larrystron, and joked with Damon, "Your Highness, there are two old acquaintances outside. They hunted with us outside Eagle's Nest in Stormlands, fought alongside us against the Three Cities Alliance on the Stone Steps Isles, and met up with us in Mistwood to fight the Dornish Sand Serpents entrenched in Grey Terror Hold. They are Viri Fair and Christon Cole."

Daemon's heart skipped a beat. Fell Willie was the second son of the Fell family of Felwood in the Stormlands. When he was patrolling the Stormlands, he had hunted with Willie and his men. Later, he fought alongside the Triarchy in the Battle of the Stepstones in the Joint Fleet.

Therefore, Daemon knew that this guy was exceptionally skilled, even more so than his brother Theogood Fell, who was his heir.

Criston Cole, who had been serving as their young master Alaric Dondarrion's squire since their first meeting, was now arriving alone, so Daemon naturally wanted to personally greet this future "Kingmaker."

"Quickly, invite them in."

A moment later, two figures entered the courtyard. Willie wore a light green short robe in the style of the Stormlands, with a longsword hanging at his waist, and a hearty smile on his face;

Criston, dressed in a dark brown outfit, stood tall and had a calm gaze, showing a sharper edge than when they first met.

"Willie Fell, the second son of the Fell family of Felwood, greets Your Highness!"

"Criston Cole of the Blackhaven Cole family greets Your Highness!"

The two knelt down on one knee almost simultaneously, their voices full of respect.

Daemon helped them up, smiling, and said, "I didn't expect you to come. What, are you willing to leave your hometown?"

Willie spoke first, his tone tinged with emotion. "Your Highness, before I left Felwood, I specifically spoke with my cousin Lorent Grandson, and he said that Your Highness is a person who can accomplish great things."

My elder brother, Theogood, is the family heir and stays in Felwood to manage the family business. I have nothing to do in my hometown, so I might as well come and serve under Your Highness. Perhaps I can make a name for myself there."

Criston added, "My father was a steward for the Dondarrion family, and I learned some martial arts and military affairs from the young master Alaric, but the Dornish Marches is too uneventful now, and there are few opportunities to put my skills to use."

Upon hearing that Your Highness had issued a decree to recruit talented individuals, I bid farewell to my father and the young master, intending to come to Your Highness's side to see if I could serve you.

Daemon looked at the two men, increasingly satisfied. These two were precisely the talented individuals and unpolished gems he desperately needed.

He turned to Rayford beside him and said, "Call all those who have recently come to apply. We'll have a banquet in the courtyard today to welcome Herman, Willie, and Criston, and also to see the talents of the others."

As the sun sets, long tables are set up in the castle courtyard. These tables are once again laden with the local specialties of Dragon's Roost Port:

Crispy roasted wild boar legs, smoked salmon sprinkled with herbs, sweet cherry pies coated in icing sugar, and a steady stream of wine and newly brewed ale from Arbor.

The noblemen who came to apply for the positions sat around a table on the inner side, surrounded by commoner artisans dressed in coarse clothes and noblemen from collateral branches wearing simple armor. The atmosphere was lively but not chaotic.

Daemon sat in the main seat, with Gael beside him.

As usual, Gael wore a light purple dress and occasionally poured wine for Daemon, her eyes full of tenderness and pride.

Daemon, holding his wine glass, stood up and said, "The reason I've gathered everyone here today is firstly to welcome our old friends Herman, Willie, Criston, and others who have come from afar."

Secondly, I would like to hear about your talents and assign suitable positions to you. The Crownlands needs development and expansion, and it requires the strength of everyone. Regardless of your background, as long as you have talent and determination, I will not treat you unfairly.

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone stood up and raised their glasses, making the atmosphere even more lively.

In the following time, people took turns coming forward to introduce their talents:

There were skilled shipbuilders from Myr, farmers knowledgeable in water management, merchants skilled in bookkeeping, and veterans who had served in the noble conscription army.

Daemon listened attentively, asking questions from time to time, while Rayford took the lead in taking notes, noting down everyone's strengths one by one.

As he had predicted, Herman Dustin was indeed very insightful about land management and reclamation, so Daemon appointed him as the General Supervisor of the Central Wasteland Reclamation, responsible for leading refugees and natives to reclaim swamps and woodlands. Rona Stau Wendon Stau served as his deputies, assisting in managing the manpower.

Willie Fell was highly skilled in martial arts, so Daemon brought him into the training grounds to assist Lyonel Corbray in training his private army, while also assigning him to patrol the eastern border.

Criston Cole was calm and meticulous, and besides his martial arts skills, he was also a versatile talent waiting to be honed. Daemon assigned him to assist Rayford in managing military documents and to be in charge of the castle's guard deployment.

Daemon also made arrangements for the other applicants: skilled shipbuilders were sent to the workshop to assist Little Horas in building fast boats; farmers knowledgeable in water conservancy followed Rickard Rowan to manage the terraces and irrigation canals;

Merchants skilled in bookkeeping joined the clerical office to assist Tommen House Peake in reconciling accounts; veterans were incorporated into the private army to train new recruits.

After assigning duties, Daemon had his servants bring in a wooden chest filled with armor, weapons, gold coins, and unwritten land deeds—a reward he had prepared for the people of today and for their future.

He approached Herman and handed him a set of the North- style steel armor, simply decorated. "This was specially made for you. May you advance fearlessly in your conquest of the central swamps."

Herman accepted the armor, his hands trembling slightly with excitement. He knelt on one knee. "Thank you, Your Highness! Herman Dustin will certainly live up to Your Highness's expectations!"

Daemon then approached Willie and handed him a dagger inlaid with rubies, the scabbard engraved with the Fell family crest. "This sword is for you," he said, "I hope you can put it to good use on the training grounds."

Willie accepted the short sword, bowed, and said, "Your Highness, rest assured, I will certainly assist Rupert and the others in training the new recruits into an elite force!"

Finally, Daemon approached Criston and handed him a silver badge engraved with his red background and black three-headed dragon design. "This is the badge of the future military commander of our Crownlands. I hope that from now on, the guards and military clerks of my castle can be entrusted to you."

Criston Cole accepted the badge with both hands, his voice filled with the determination of someone who had found their mentor. "Your Highness, I will certainly not let you down!"

After everyone had received their reward, Daemon walked up to the platform, the afterglow of the setting sun casting a long shadow on him.

He drew his Blackfyre, its tip pointing directly at the setting sun. The dark blade gleamed with a cold light, yet was once again tinged with a warm red by the sunset.

"My friends," his voice echoed in the courtyard, carrying an undeniable power, "Today you have come to me, and I promise you protection and a bright future."

One day, I will lead you to explore the Crab Claw Peninsula, build a more powerful Crownlands, and even venture into a wider world—to establish a completely new order!

Are you willing to follow me on this journey?

"Willing!"

The crowd shouted in unison, their voices resounding through the sky.

Herman, Willie, Criston Cole stood at the front, their eyes filled with fervor;

Commoners, artisans, members of the nobility, veterans, and refugees—all raised their glasses or weapons and swore their most resolute oaths to Daemon on the high platform.

"I am willing to follow Your Highness and expand our territory!"

"I am willing to follow Your Highness and protect the territory!"

"I am willing to follow Your Highness and create a great cause together!"

Gael stood on the edge of the platform, looking at the scene before her, her light purple eyes filled with pride.

Alys Rivers stood in the corner, the hood of her green cloak slipped down, a complex light flashing in her eyes, before she nodded slightly;

Bethany gazed at Daemon with undiminished fervor, just as she always had;

Jarman, Rupert, Rayford, and others stood behind Daemon, their eyes filled with loyalty and determination.

As the sun gradually set, night began to envelop Dragon's Roost Port. The bonfire in the courtyard was lit again, its light illuminating everyone's faces, Daemon holding the Blackfyre on the high platform, and this rising land.

Daemon sheathed his sword, looking at the cheering crowd below, feeling a sense of peace.

He knew this was just the beginning. With the addition of more talented individuals, his Crownlands would grow stronger, and his ambition, his imperial dream, would one day be realized.

A few days later, Beren Dustin, still far away in the Citadel, was holding a reply from Daemon delivered by his teacher, Maester Bernard. The letter read, "When you complete your studies, there will always be a place for you in my Crownlands."

The boy gripped the letter tightly, a determined glint in his eyes, and threw himself even more intently into his studies at the Citadel.

In Felwood, Theogood Fell read the letter from his brother, a smile playing on his lips. He secretly instructed his men to send Felwood's specialties to Dragon's Roost Port.

In Blackhaven, Alaric Dondarrion received a message from Criston and began to consider establishing trade relations with Crownlands Daemon's territory, similar to that of Arbor, for his father's sake.

However, at this moment, lights are gradually lighting up Dragon's Roost Port, bathing the docks, terraced fields, and workshops in a warm yellow glow.

Daemon, holding Gael's hand, stood on the high platform, looking down at the bustling courtyard and the dragon shadows of the Glutton and Dreamfyre in the distance. His resolve grew stronger: with these loyal followers, with Gael's companionship and the protection of the Dragonfire, he could realize his ambition and build his own immortal empire.