Magic?!

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

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

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

"Little Joff, this is your tourney. The banquet isn't over yet, is it? Why aren't you having fun there?"

Cersei herself had left early because she did not want to stay with that disgusting king, but she remembered that Joffrey had always enjoyed banquets.

"Mother," Joffrey said, wearing the awkward expression of a child asking an adult for something while being too proud to beg.

"Is Valyrian Steel really that impressive? I want one too."

The Valyrian Steel supposedly forged with magic was an important tool for verifying his suspicions.

At the banquet, he had already confirmed it: the strange sensation and faint blue glow were not illusions. Lord Yohn's armor might truly possess magic.

Magic Perception, Magic Sight? Golden Finger?

He needed more samples.

For instance, the Valyrian Steel weapons in the Red Keep Vault.

All he needed was permission.

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

Beaming, Cersei pulled Joffrey into her embrace.

"I knew you wanted something. This mother of yours is only useful for this much."

Joffrey merely urged her for his "candy."

Cersei could not resist at all. "Valyrian Steel is certainly precious. Many families pass it down as their ancestral swords. It is worthy of my son."

"Mm. There should be some suitable ones in the vault. Robert has no use for them anymore, so pick whatever you like."

Robert! You never could have dreamed that the one inheriting the Iron Throne would be Jaime and my son, with Lannister blood!

Hmph, so what if Old Jon and that poker-faced Stannis find out? Jaime and I are still doing perfectly well. They would only be making trouble for themselves!

Cersei lovingly stroked the prince's face. Before her eyes, his handsome features seemed to blur into the adorable smiling face of the baby he had once been.

Time passed so quickly. Twelve years, twelve years old—it was time for him to learn how to rule a kingdom.

"Remember this, my son."

"You are a lion, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the future king of Westeros. As long as you speak, you can have anything."

"If anyone refuses to obey, they must be punished most severely!"

"Think of your grandfather Tywin. When a song of 'The Rains of Castamere' was played, none of the Lords of the Westerlands dared defy him!"

"Fear and obedience will only make the kingdom stronger."

Cersei's teachings were simple and clear.

The prince smiled brightly. "I understand."

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

The song plainly sang: whenever the rainy season came, rainwater wept in the hall, yet there were no people within, no souls within.

The Farman family of Fair Isle had once refused to submit. Lord Tywin had merely sent singers to play the song in their castle hall, and the Farman family immediately bowed their heads in surrender.

Listening to that song while looking at his own hall, Lord Farman must have found the feeling unbearable.

I understand.

Fear and violence were not the only things that mattered, but like air to a person, they were indispensable.

"Rest assured, Mother. I will become the greatest king in Westeros and bring even greater glory to our family."

Cersei was even happier. Holding the prince, she chattered on without end, sometimes discussing ordinary trivialities, sometimes instilling in him her ideas about power.

She stopped only when Joffrey began to look obviously distracted.

"Hannah." Cersei beckoned behind her and explained to her son, "She knows the Red Keep well. She is 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 an honor to serve you."

Joffrey gave a slight nod. The "vault pass" was secured. The operation had been a complete success.

The inconspicuous Tyrion set down his wine cup and silently followed.

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

Torches crackled, and beyond their firelight lay nothing but deep shadows.

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

For no reason, Joffrey recalled the prayer of the Red God religion: "The night is dark and full of terrors."

Even so, I will be the one laughing in the end.

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

The four soldiers promptly unlocked the heavy iron lock and pushed open the oak doors together.

Joffrey entered first and carefully searched through the room.

The Hound and Hannah followed closely behind.

Tyrion, who had come uninvited, wandered around on his own.

Unlike the already depleted Royal Treasury, the vault was only used to store various antiques and treasures. They were difficult to liquidate, and royal dignity had to be maintained, so it was filled with splendid objects that displayed the grandeur of royal power.

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

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

There was also a Ruby, two square Sapphires, three dark-purple crystal balls, a Glass Candle, and an unremarkable-looking greatsword.

Nearly all of them were objects confirmed or rumored to be related to magic.

Aside from all being detectable by him, in that strange vision, the black Valyrian Steel was entirely shrouded in a translucent white glow, similar to the blue light on the Bronze Armor. The Glass Candle also bore faint Patterns of varying shapes and colors.

It really is magic. I can see magic.

Joffrey felt a deep sense of relief and peace.

He had always understood how dangerous this world was.

All men must die.

He believed in his own abilities, but a dagger, a cup of Poisoned Wine, or a hidden arrow could end all his plans.

As long as he remained Joffrey, there would not be a single day when he did not live amid such dangers.

But now, things were different.

Magic, praise magic!

One day, he would gain true power and stand on a higher plane, looking down upon the world.

"Uncle, do you believe in magic?"

Joffrey was very curious about Tyrion's thoughts at that moment. Was he observing him, or drowning in pain?

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

"Perhaps it exists. Perhaps it does not."

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

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

Joffrey agreed quite a bit. Unfortunately, all he could say now were stupid, boring things.

"I heard Valyrian Steel Swords are forged with magic and are incredibly sharp. Ha ha, with a sword like this, who could possibly be my opponent?!"

Joffrey swept out a hand. "Take all of these."

Hannah and The Hound immediately got to work.

"My good nephew," Tyrion said, closing his book and tapping it three times.

"Since I came all this way with you, have some mercy and bring along this Book of Dragons as well."

"Heh, suit yourself."

"My deepest thanks." Tyrion handed over a thick volume. "There is also a copy of Chronicle of Four Kings personally transcribed by Archmaester Cressen. Is Your Highness interested?"

Joffrey could not even be bothered to spare it another glance. "I know about them—the Targaryen kings without dragons."

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

In truth, he was quite interested.

Besides, Tyrion seemed to have some deeper intention.

"For Uncle's sake, The Hound, take that whatever-chronicle too. It will surely be useful when I can't sleep at night. Ha ha."

A joke very much in Joffrey's style.

Tyrion chuckled along with him.