The rabid fan was furious

Viserys I, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

He resolved to go to war and gave the order.

The army immediately assembled and marched.

A hundred ships of the royal fleet crossed the Narrow Sea, banners billowing, flags of every color flying, to blockade the Stepstones.

Dragons descended from the sky, their Dragonfire sweeping through everything, setting warships alight like candles.

They landed on the Stepstones with ease, and the knights and militia reaped the gifts of war.

That was the war Baelon imagined.

But in reality.

After Viserys resolved to go to war, little changed in Baelon's life.

Preparations for the celebration of Aegon the Conqueror's Landing Day continued as usual.

King's Landing was packed, people jostling shoulder to shoulder, just as before.

Except that Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, accelerated shipbuilding, and the sound of axes chopping timber outside the harbor never ceased.

Otto Hightower spent all day writing letters, with raven after raven flying to the far side of the Narrow Sea.

Earl Lyman Beesbury purchased food, and black bread, dried fish, ale, and fodder gradually filled the harbor warehouses.

Lord Borros Baratheon hurried back to Storm's End to summon his vassals.

Hedge Knights poured into King's Landing in waves, full of energy, talking excitedly about the Stepstones in every street and alley.

The smithy.

"Have you ever seen a garnet the size of a walnut?!" a bushy-bearded knight asked as he selected swords.

Someone immediately chimed in, "What's a garnet worth!"

"I heard someone robbed a pirate in the Stepstones of a whole bag of sapphires, each as big as my thumb! Hahahaha!"

The Hedge Knights were in high spirits, brimming with enthusiasm, eagerly awaiting an early start to the war.

They would serve the Iron Throne and win glory and wealth for themselves.

The strapping young men of King's Landing were even more excited. In most people's eyes, the Stepstones were islands of riches covered in gold and gems.

Crowds gathered by the river to cool off, freely imagining the wealth the pirates of the Stepstones had amassed.

"Will it be dangerous?"

Whenever someone raised that question, it always drew a roar of laughter.

"Hahahahaha!"

Hundreds of ships from the royal fleet and several dragons would be deployed.

Against the mere Stepstones?

They firmly believed the dragons could easily burn the ships of the men of Essos and drive them off the Stepstones.

Confidence in victory, revelry, and clamor grew by the day. They longed for war to begin at once, the crowds with the Seven standing behind them.

As the warehouses filled day by day, King's Landing grew hotter by the day, and fervor burned in everyone's hearts.

Baelon could not help feeling uneasy.

He even suffered a rare bout of insomnia at night.

He, too, had originally thought victory was assured once the dragons were deployed, but now the atmosphere, with everyone swept away by it, left him anxious and uneasy.

Pride came before a fall.

Besides, according to this world's laws, the grander things looked and the more certain victory seemed, the likelier some deus ex machina would bring a sloppy death.

Unsettled, Baelon chose to spend every day with Vermithor, riding the dragon freely through the skies over King's Landing.

Whenever Vermithor swept low overhead, the knights struck their shields with their spears, producing a rolling thunder, and deafening cheers drifted up to the dragon's back.

Some even knelt on the ground and stretched out their hands.

Since Vermithor had brought that rain, many people had regarded Vermithor and him as gods.

He was greatly loved, and Baelon soon learned of his new title-"Cloud Rider."

Baelon: ...

Cold sweat poured off him.

Now he was genuinely starting to panic.

Thinking it over, he was the widely beloved heir to the Iron Throne, the illustrious eldest son whom everyone hoped to see inherit the throne.

On top of that, he rode the largest dragon, had a marriage alliance with the Velaryons, and possessed the blood of the Vale.

On paper, he already possessed the greatest strength.

Haha.

By that reckoning, he was practically covered in death buffs.

Baelon grew increasingly cautious. That day, he was about to go to the smithy to choose a helmet design to have made for Vermithor.

Dragons needed helmets when flying, too.

Vermithor was as massive as a mountain, and his scales had thickened as he grew, becoming as hard as steel.

Baelon did not worry about the places covered in scales. His only concern was whether, under the influence of his death buffs, some arrow out of nowhere might "just happen" to strike Vermithor in the eye.

While waiting in the Red Keep's inner courtyard for the smith to bring a dozen or so helmet designs for him to choose from, he happened upon Grover Tully.

Even Baelon, far away in the Red Keep, had heard of the Lord of Riverrun's stubbornness.

Rumor had it that ten years earlier, at the Great Council of 101 in Harrenhal, the old man had unleashed his attack right in the face of Rhaenys, the Uncrowned Queen.

He had said something to Rhaenys along the lines of, "Riverrun will fight for Prince Viserys!"

Now Lord Grover Tully was as stubborn as ever. "Prince Baelon!"

"Lord Grover."

Baelon steadied Lord Grover Tully. Sparse white hair covered his head, and he was skinny all over, shriveled like a wrinkled fig.

After courteously steadying Grover Tully, Baelon released his arm and laughed heartily. "What a delight!"

"To welcome a stalwart old warrior for the celebration!"

A smile bloomed across Grover's wrinkled face, and he brushed aside his grandson's hand as it reached over to support him.

What did he need support for!

He was still hale and hearty. Prince Baelon truly knew a hero when he saw one.

Baelon remembered that, in this old man's original fate, he had already been bedridden and on the verge of death when the Dance of the Dragons broke out, yet he had still unequivocally maintained that male heirs took precedence and supported Aegon.

After his grandson, Ser Elmo Tully, explained that Riverrun could not withstand Dragonfire and chose neutrality for self-preservation, shutting the gates to protect their lands and people,

Lord Grover Tully had flown into a rage on his sickbed and loudly berated his descendants.

Baelon did not know whether to laugh or cry.

If you abandoned male precedence in succession out of fear of dying in Dragonfire, how could that count as stubbornness, right?!

This man truly meant every bit of it.

He feared no Dragonfire and acted for no oath, supporting Aegon purely because of his belief that male heirs took precedence.

"You once jousted against Ser Ryan Redwyne and even broke eight lances, didn't you?!"

Baelon exclaimed in admiration, "That was Ser Ryan Redwyne!"

The moment Grover heard that, he forgot what he had been about to say.

At that moment, only one number remained in his mind, and he shouted, "Not eight! Ten!"

"Ten!"

"I broke ten lances before Ser Redwyne unhorsed me!" Grover Tully puffed out his chest, his voice full of pride at sharing in that glory.

"Ten?!" Baelon exclaimed with genuine admiration.

He never would have guessed. Had this shriveled old man really been that amazing?!

Elmo breathed a sigh of relief. Facing a male heir, surely nothing could go wrong now.

"Ten indeed, my prince." He smiled. "Grandfather remembers it perfectly."

He had heard it so often his ears had grown calluses.

Ser Elmo blinked and smiled. "The ten shattered lances Ser Ryan Redwyne used are kept at Riverrun."

"Grandfather made a point of picking them up and bringing them home."

Though Ser Elmo did not believe it was really possible to identify and retrieve the lances Ser Ryan Redwyne had used from the tourney grounds.

Perhaps Grandfather had simply picked up a few random shattered lances.

Grover Tully raised his head proudly.

That was Ser Ryan Redwyne!

The legendary Lord Commander of the Kingsguard!

He dared say that even a thousand years later, little boys would still grow up listening to songs about Ser Ryan Redwyne.

"Hmph." Grover Tully suddenly snorted.

He said coldly, "Prince Baelon, forgive my bluntness. I do not mean to interfere in the selection of the Kingsguard."

"But the Kingsguard represents the pinnacle of knightly honor. You must keep your eyes open when filling its ranks this time."

The Kingsguard swore to take no wives, hold no lands, father no children, and relinquish their family inheritance rights.

They served for life, until death.

Everyone regarded selection for the Kingsguard as the highest honor a knight could seek.

But what sort of thing was that Cole Criston!

And he had actually filled the Kingsguard vacancy left by Ser Ryan Redwyne's death!

Baelon: ...

Elmo: ...