Magic?!

Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast, Queen's Ballroom.

Under countless torches and candlelights, a troupe of court dancers spun and leaped across the hall to the graceful music.

Cersei sat serenely on the Queen's throne atop the High Platform, smiling as she chatted with her eldest son.

"Little Joff, this is your tourney. The feast isn't over yet, is it? Why aren't you out there enjoying yourself?"

Cersei had left early because she didn't want to stay with that disgusting king, but she remembered that Joffrey had been enjoying the feast.

"Mother," Joffrey said, wearing the awkward expression of a child who wanted something from an adult but was too proud to beg.

"Is the Valyrian Steel Sword really that powerful? I want one too."

The Valyrian Steel supposedly forged through magic was an important tool for verifying his conjecture.

During the feast, he had already confirmed it: that strange sensation and the cyan glow had not been hallucinations. Lord Yohn's armor might really contain magic.

Magic Perception, Magic Sight? Golden Finger?

He needed more samples.

Such as the Valyrian Steel weapons in the Red Keep Vault.

All he needed was permission.

The newly twelve-year-old crown prince shook his mother's arm, his face full of eager anticipation. "I hear lots of people have them. I'm a prince—how can I not have one? Mother, you must have a way."

Cersei beamed and pulled Joffrey into her arms.

"I knew you wanted something. It seems this is the only use your mother has."

Joffrey only urged her to give him the "candy."

Cersei had no way to resist him. "Valyrian Steel, you mean? It counts as a precious thing. Many families pass it down as their ancestral sword. It's worthy of my son."

"Hmm. There should be some suitable ones in the vault. Robert has no use for them anymore. Choose whichever you like."

Robert! You never dreamed that Jaime and my son would inherit the Iron Throne, with Lannister blood in their veins!

Hmph. So what if Old Jon and that poker-faced Stannis find out? Jaime and I are still doing perfectly well. You're only making trouble for yourselves!

Cersei lovingly stroked the prince's face. The handsome features before her blurred, transforming into the adorable smiling face of the baby he had once been.

Time really does fly. Twelve years, twelve years old. It's time for him to learn how to rule a kingdom.

"Remember this, my son."

"You are a lion, the heir to the Seven Kingdoms, and the future king of Westeros. All you need to do is speak, and you can have anything."

"If anyone refuses to obey, you must punish him as severely as possible!"

"Think of your grandfather Tywin. Once 'The Rains of Castamere' began to play, all the Lords of the Westerlands submitted in fear!"

"Fear and obedience are what make a kingdom stronger."

Cersei's teachings were simple and clear.

The prince revealed a radiant smile. "I understand everything."

Of course I understand. 'The Rains of Castamere'—the complete destruction of the insolent Reyne family and Tarbeck family polished the glory of the Lannister family.

The song clearly sings: And every time that rain came down, the halls would cry with no one there, and not a soul to hear.

The Farman family of Fair Isle had once refused to submit. Lord Tywin had merely sent a singer to perform the song in their castle hall, and the Farman family immediately bowed their heads in obedience.

Listening to the song while looking at their own hall, Lord Farman must have felt terrible at the time.

I understand.

Fear and violence aren't the only answers, but they are as indispensable as air is to human beings.

"Don't worry, Mother. I'll become the greatest king in Westeros and bring even greater glory to our family."

Cersei grew even happier. She held the prince and kept talking, sometimes chatting about ordinary trivialities, sometimes instilling her views on power.

She only stopped when Joffrey began to look unmistakably bored.

"Hannah," Cersei called, beckoning to the back. She explained to her son, "She's familiar with the Red Keep. She's loyal and capable, and she can guide you."

A maid with chestnut curls and a somewhat familiar face stepped forward and bowed.

"Your Highness, it is my honor to serve you."

Joffrey gave a slight nod. The vault pass is mine. The operation was a complete success.

Tyrion, who had gone almost entirely unnoticed, set down his wineglass and silently followed.

The group made their way through the Red Keep at night.

Torches crackled, while deep shadows filled everything beyond their light.

Where were Varys's Little Birds? Where were the Red Keep's hidden doors and secret passages? Here, there, in places unknown to anyone else.

Joffrey inexplicably recalled a prayer of the Red God religion: The Long Night is dark, and full of terrors.

Even so, I will be the one laughing last.

"This is the Queen's order," Hannah told the guards at the vault.

Four soldiers immediately unlocked the heavy iron lock and worked together to push open the Oak doors.

Joffrey stepped inside first and began searching carefully.

The Hound and Hannah followed close behind.

Tyrion, who had not been invited, began wandering around.

Unlike the already-depleted Royal Treasury, the vault was used only to store various antiques and treasures that were difficult to turn into cash. The crown also had to preserve its dignity, so it was filled with dazzling treasures and displayed the splendor of royal power.

After making a full circuit, Joffrey had gained quite a lot.

The Valyrian Steel was black as smoke. There was a short axe, two small hammers, a longsword, three daggers, and seven chain links.

There was also a Ruby, two square Sapphires, three deep-purple crystal balls, and a Glass Candle. As well as a greatsword that looked utterly ordinary.

Almost all of them were definitively or supposedly connected to magic.

Besides all being detectable by him, in that strange vision, the black Valyrian Steel was enveloped in a translucent white radiance, similar to the cyan glow of the Bronze Armor. The Glass Candle also bore faint patterns of varying shapes and colors.

It's really magic. I can see magic.

Joffrey felt a deep sense of relief and tranquility well up from within.

He had always understood how dangerous this world was.

All Men Must Die.

He trusted his abilities, but a dagger, a cup of poison, or a hidden arrow could end all his plans.

As long as he remained Joffrey, there would not be a single day when he was free from these dangers.

But now, things were different.

Magic. Praise magic!

One day, I will obtain true power and stand on a higher plane, looking down upon the world.

"Uncle, do you believe in magic?"

Joffrey was very curious about what Tyrion was thinking at that moment. Was he observing me, or drowning in his own suffering?

Tyrion had his head lowered over an ancient book, looking somewhat melancholy.

"Perhaps it exists, and perhaps it doesn't."

Joffrey, what else do you know? What exactly do you want me to do? Is my Tysha really nowhere to be found?

"Reality is too absurd. It never follows logic. What is there worth believing in? Sorry, I've read too many books."

Joffrey strongly agreed. Unfortunately, all he could do now was say some foolish, boring things.

"I hear Valyrian Steel Swords are forged with magic and are incredibly sharp. Haha, with a sword like this, who could possibly stand against me?!"

Joffrey swept his hand grandly. "Take all of these."

Hannah and The Hound immediately got to work.

"Good nephew." Tyrion closed the book and tapped it three times.

"Since I came all this way with you, show some mercy and take this Book of Dragons too."

"Heh, suit yourself."

"Much obliged." Tyrion handed over a hefty tome. "Here is a Chronicle of Four Kings personally handwritten by Archmaester Cressen. Are you interested, Your Highness?"

Joffrey could not be bothered to spare it a glance. "I know about them. Targaryen kings without dragons."

"I don't need this book. I can become the greatest king myself."

In truth, he was rather interested.

Besides, Tyrion seemed to have another meaning behind his words.

"For Uncle's sake, The Hound, take this Chronicle or whatever it is. It will certainly be useful when I can't sleep at night. Haha."

A joke with a distinctly Joffrey-like flavor.

Tyrion followed along with a laugh.