This news was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, causing tiny ripples in Red Keep.
The maids were whispering in the corridor, the guards were exchanging glances at their posts, and the ministers who had become accustomed to Rhaenyra presiding over government affairs while Viserys was in bed had different expressions on their faces.
Some people breathed a sigh of relief, some people became more nervous, and some people remained calm, as if they had known the news for a long time and had readjusted their positions in their hearts.
When Rhaenyra heard the news, she was reading a letter from Riverlands. She put down the letter, was silent for a moment, then nodded and said, "I understand."
There was no change in her expression, no fluctuation in her tone, but her fingers made a deep crease on the letter paper.
Viserys finally walked out of his bedroom after staying in bed for nearly a month.
That morning, the sun shone in through the dome glass of Red Keep, casting huge, diamond-shaped spots of light on the marble floor.
Viserys is wearing a dark red robe, with the golden House Targaryen emblem embroidered on the robe - a three-headed dragon, with teeth and claws, lifelike.
His hair was carefully combed, and the white hair that emerged during the illness was dyed back to a bright silver color. Although if you look closely, you can still see that the roots of the newly grown hair are white, at least at first glance, he looked like a healthy and powerful king in his prime, not a gray-faced old man who was bedridden by a mummy.
His steps were a little slow, but steady. He was holding a cane in his left hand, and the top of the cane was inlaid with a Ruby the size of a pigeon egg, which shone dark red in the sun, like coagulated blood.
His right hand was supported by Allison, who walked on his right, half a step behind, with a dignified and humble posture, like a carefully placed portrait in a frame.
Her abdomen has swelled very high. When walking, she holds Viserys with one hand and puts the other hand on her belly, as if she is supporting two people - one is her husband who is recovering little by little, and the other is the child who is growing up little by little.
Small Council The ministers are already waiting at the long table.
Master of Coin Lyman Bisbury sat on the left side of the long table, with a thick account book spread out in front of him. The paper in the account book was yellowed, the corners were curled, and it was densely filled with numbers.
His hand tapped lightly on the account book, and the golden ring on his finger that represented his family flickered in the candlelight.
Master of Laws Jasper Wilder sat opposite him, with a thick stack of documents in front of him, which were summaries of various disputes and lawsuits reported from various places. Each summary was numbered, cataloged, classified, and neatly coded together, like a stack of square tofu.
Master of Ships Tyland·Lannister is sitting in the middle of the long table. He belongs to House Lannister - not the branch of Casterly Rock, but the branch of Lannisport, a branch of branches, a relative as far away as possible.
But the surname "Lannister" itself carries a weight that cannot be ignored, even if there are no modifiers or attributives in front of it.
His sitting posture is the most upright among all the ministers. His back is as straight as a javelin, his chin is slightly raised, and his eyes are looking straight ahead. There is an almost arrogant and innate sense of superiority belonging to the Lannister family on his sharp-edged face.
Master of Whisperers is not here. That position has been vacant since the head of the predecessor Master of Whisperers was hung on the city gate.
Viserys did not appoint a new Master of Whisperers, but spread the intelligence collection work to several other departments.
Everyone knows why - the reason why predecessor Master of Whisperers lost his head was because he "knew too much".
Since then, those who are qualified to sit in this chair have become extremely humble, extremely low-key, and extremely unobtrusive.
When Viserys walked into the meeting hall, all the ministers stood up. The sound of chair legs scraping against the ground came and went, like a short and rapid drumbeat.
"Your Majesty." The ministers saluted in unison, and their voices echoed under the high dome of the chamber, creating a solemn and majestic echo.
Viserys walked to the head seat of the long table and sat down.
His movements were very slow, and every step seemed to be negotiating with his body - bending down, bending the knees, lowering the center of gravity, touching the buttocks to the chair surface, leaning back to find the most comfortable angle. His brows frowned slightly the moment he sat down, and then relaxed.
"Everyone, sit down." He said, his voice was much weaker than a month ago, but he still maintained the majesty and solemnity that a king should have.
The ministers sat down again, and the chair legs made noise again. This time it was more chaotic than before. Some people sat down quickly, some sat down slowly, and some people moved their positions after sitting down, making a second friction sound.
Viserys After all these sounds disappeared, he slowly spoke one word at a time.
"I haven't been feeling well these days, thank you all for your hard work."
His eyes stayed on Rhaenyra for a moment - a very short moment, so short that if he hadn't been staring at her, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.
Rhaenyra noticed. Her eyes met Viserys's for a moment, and then moved away at the same time, as if she was avoiding something, and also as if she was confirming something.
"Your Majesty is serious."
Master of Coin Bisbury was the first to answer. His voice was calm and mellow, with a just-right sense of rhythm that only people who often speak on Small Council could have. "His Royal Highness is presiding over government affairs on behalf of His Majesty these days. He handles all matters personally. I am just assisting His Highness in running errands."
Rhaenyra glanced at Bisbury.
This sentence may sound like praising her, but in fact, it puts all the credit on her, all the responsibilities on her, and all the risks on her.
"No matter how big or small, do it yourself" - if it is a good thing, it is the honor she deserves; if it is a bad thing, it is her own fault.
"I'm just waiting to help" - pick yourself clean, like a white lotus that emerges from the mud but remains unstained.
Old fox. Rhaenyra added a label to Bisbury in his heart.
Viserys did not answer Bisbury's words. His gaze swept across the ministers' faces, like a slow-moving knife that was not too sharp but heavy enough.
From Bisbury to Wilder, from Wilder to Lannister, from Lannister to other people's empty chairs, and finally back to Rhaenyra's face.