Siora didn't speak, just nodded. She was a smart person, so smart that she didn't need to use words to express her loyalty, because she knew that actions were more convincing than words.
Marcus wanted to say something, so he opened and closed his mouth. He scratched his head, smiled honestly, and finally said, "Your Highness, don't worry. I'm stupid and won't think about those winding things."
Redd looked at them, was silent for a moment, and then nodded.
He stood up, walked to the window of the hall, and looked out the window at the sea that was dyed dark red by the setting sun.
King Ghidorah was huddled in the courtyard, with three heads drooped, as if he was asleep. His snoring could be heard through the wall, as low as thunder.
"There is one more thing." Redd's voice came from the window, and his tone became a little more relaxed, as if he was talking about a less important matter, "Send Daemon's body back to King's Landing. Give an explanation to His Majesty the King."
Dawg Lars frowned. "Your Highness, that body has turned into a mummy. If you send it over like that, will it be-"
"That's what I want." Redd turned around, looked at Dawg Russ, and raised the corners of his mouth slightly, "Let Viserys see what his good brother turned into in the end."
Dawg Lars's mouth twitched, and he wanted to say "Viserys will he be scared to death?", but in the end he didn't say it.
Because he suddenly realized that His Highness might just want Viserys to be scared to death.
Jasont was responsible for handling this matter. He had a fine oak coffin brought out from Dragonstone's cellar. The outside of the coffin was painted black and inlaid with copper edges, making it look solemn and solemn.
The inside of the coffin was covered with a layer of white silk, which was sprinkled with dried lavender and rosemary flowers to mask the smell of the corpse.
Daemon's mummy was put into the coffin. Those shriveled, water-drained, skinny bodies looked even more terrifying against the layer of white silk - the deep-set eye sockets were like two black holes.
The mouth that could not be closed seemed to be shouting silently, and the two empty sleeves were stuffed into the coffin and stuck to the sides of the body, like a pair of folded non-existent wings.
The lid of the coffin was nailed shut. The coffin was carried onto a fast boat, rowed by a dozen strong sailors. It set out from the port of Dragonstone, passed through Blackwater Bay, sailed upstream, and headed in the direction of King's Landing.
In King's Landing's Red Keep, King Viserys·Targaryen I is taking a nap on his throne.
He is no longer young, his face is pale, his body is bloated, and his once bright purple eyes have now become cloudy and dim, as if they were covered with a layer of gray.
His beard had not been trimmed for a long time and hung messily on his chest, still stained with soup drippings from lunch.
His crown - the golden crown made by Seven Kingdoms's best goldsmiths - looked a bit big on his head, slightly off-center, and seemed to be about to slip off at any time.
Small Council has dispersed, and the ministers have gone back to their homes. Only a few guards stood at the door of the hall, chatting boredly. Everything seemed so calm, so peaceful, so--
A guard rushed in from the outside in a panic. The sound of footsteps was rapid and panicked, waking Viserys out of his sleep.
"Your Majesty! Dragonstone--Dragonstone is here!" The guard knelt on the ground and shouted breathlessly, "They brought a coffin! They said it was--they said it was the body of Prince Daemon!"
Viserys's pupils shrank suddenly, and he stood up from the throne. The movement was so fast that he was a little surprised.
His lips trembled, trying to say something, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something, and he could only utter a few vague, hoarse syllables.
Daemon. His younger brother. The man who proclaimed himself the king of Stepstones, took the dragon to Lys to fight against Redd, and then - and then there was no more.
Is he still alive? No, the body. The coffin. Daemon is dead.
Viserys's hand tightly grasped the armrest of the throne, his knuckles turned white.
His breathing became rapid, his chest heaved violently, and his whole body seemed to be choked by an invisible hand.
"Lift--bring it in--" His voice came out of his throat, hoarse, trembling, and almost inaudible.
Several guards carried in a black oak coffin from outside. The coffin was very heavy and it was difficult for four people to carry it.
They placed the coffin in the center of the hall. The copper nails on the coffin lid shone dark yellow in the candlelight, and the surrounding air seemed to become solemn.
Viserys walked down from the throne, his steps staggering, like a dying old man.
He walked to the coffin, stretched out his hand, and touched the coffin lid with trembling fingers. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if making final mental preparations.
His hand grasped the edge of the coffin lid and lifted it hard.
The coffin lid was lifted halfway, revealing the scene inside the coffin - white silk, the scent of dried flowers, and the shriveled, twisted, dried-up, mummy-like corpse.
Daemon's face looks particularly terrifying against the silk.
His skin was tightly attached to his skull, his cheekbones were high, his temples were sunken, his eye sockets were like two black holes, his nose was only a shriveled protrusion, and his lips were shrunk into a dry, unclosable gap, revealing the remains of the tongue that had been cut off and the broken teeth inside.
He was wearing a simple linen robe that had been put on casually when he was returned. The robe lay empty on his withered body, as if hanging on a clothes hanger.
His arms - no, he had no arms, and the sleeves of his robe hung empty at his sides, pinned to the robe to keep them from dangling.
Viserys's face turned from pale to deathly gray in an instant.
His eyes were wide open, his pupils were dilated to the limit, the whites of his eyes were covered with bloodshot eyes, and his whole person froze as if he had been struck by lightning.
He opened his mouth and wanted to scream, but the sound was stuck in his throat, and he only let out a short whimper, as if someone was strangling his neck.
Then his body began to shake.
His legs were weak, his knees were bent, and his whole body seemed to have had all the bones taken away, and he fell limply to the ground.
His head tilted back, his eyes rolled upward, his lips turned purple, and he lost consciousness in the process of falling.
"Your Majesty!" The guards rushed forward and supported Viserys before he fell to the ground.
Some pinched him, some slapped his face, some called for a doctor, and some hurriedly closed the coffin lid again, as if as long as the coffin lid was closed, the image of the horrific mummy would disappear from their minds.