Aegon tapped his fingertips lightly against the smooth ebony desk, the steady clicks breaking the silence that had settled over the study in the wake of his bold plan.
"That is the plan." He looked up at Jon Connington across the desk, his violet eyes untroubled, as though stating an established fact.
"You will take me into the Golden Company's camp and gather the officers, especially... the core members whose loyalty to the Blackfyre bloodline is unwavering."
"Then the dragon will descend from the sky and dispose of them cleanly. Those who remain will need a reason to lay down their weapons, a reason to serve a new master."
"And you will be that reason."
Jon Connington stiffened slightly, his hands unconsciously clenching in his lap.
The sunlight in the study fell across his graying temples, but could not dispel the deep concern etched into his brow.
He slowly voiced his concerns, explaining the Golden Company's complexities and the potential risks.
Aegon listened calmly without interrupting.
"You are right," Aegon said only after Jon had finished laying out all his concerns, his tone carrying a matter-of-fact certainty. "That is precisely why we need a more direct path."
"The cards we hold are enough to make that path viable." His gaze turned toward the courtyard, where King Ghidorah rested.
"The dragon is the final argument. He can eliminate most of the 'uncertainties.'"
Jon Connington fell silent.
He studied the young prince before him, searching those violet eyes for a trace of bluff or youthful recklessness.
But all he saw was profound calm, and an absolute understanding of the power the dragon represented.
This was no longer an exile who merely talked of restoring his dynasty, but a player holding the ultimate trump card.
He recalled how Lys had changed hands in