To Redd, this was nothing short of a feast of delicacies.
He forgot all about appearances, grabbed a large, still-fatty steak, and stuffed it ravenously into his mouth. It was so hot that he sucked in sharp breaths and nearly choked.
He hurriedly grabbed the wine bottle, tipped his head back, and gulped down several mouthfuls of red wine. Only when the sharp, full-bodied liquid slid down his throat did the choking sensation ease.
As he devoured the food, his ears seemed fitted with radar, picking up potentially useful information amid the surrounding din.
Soon, he caught a few key words from the argument of several drunken men at a nearby table.
They were arguing over the future heir to the Iron Throne, their faces flushed and spittle flying.
"Viserys is the rightful heir! His is the purest blood of the true dragon!" "Bullshit! Princess Rhaenys's son Laenor has the better claim!"
Their dispute concerned the two main heirs of House Targaryen-Viserys and Rhaenys's son Laenor-
and which of them was more likely to inherit the Iron Throne, that symbol of power.
Their heated argument was on the verge of turning into a fistfight, and the atmosphere in the tavern instantly grew a little more tense.
A cold smile curled Redd's lips. This was exactly the information he needed.
After listening to the drunks argue, Redd's lips curved into a knowing smile.
These fragments of information pieced together precisely the answer he wanted.
The current year should have been around 100 AC.
Jaehaerys I Targaryen, whom later generations would call the "Old King," should still have been sitting securely on the Iron Throne,
and even the heir had yet to be definitively chosen!
What did that mean?
It meant there were at least several decades before the horrifically bloody civil war known as the "Dance of the Dragons" swept across the Seven Kingdoms!
The discovery sent an indescribable surge of excitement through Redd.
He quickly worked it out in his head: given King Ghidorah's astonishing rate of growth,
even if he spent none of his precious energy points to accelerate that growth,
a few decades of natural growth alone would be enough for it to leave its juvenile stage behind entirely and truly become a great dragon capable of soaring through the skies!
When that time came, if he chose to intervene, the so-called "Dance of the Dragons" would probably become a one-sided rout.
Even if King Ghidorah was only one-fifth the size of the legendary Vhagar by then,
with him, a system-assisted "Dragon Rider," as its partner, they could probably still pin that historically rampaging Vhagar to the ground and thrash her!
Just imagining the scene set Redd's blood boiling, filling him with an indescribable thrill and exhilaration.
But speculation alone was not enough.
He had to reach Westeros as soon as possible and find more conclusive evidence to confirm the time period,
and only then could he make his next plans-perhaps he could reap some benefits before that future storm arrived?
If he could lure away a few more dragons to bolster his ranks, that would make him all the stronger!
At that thought, Redd grew even more excited.
He took another weighty gold dragon from his system storage space and gently placed it on the counter, its golden gleam particularly dazzling in the dim light.
A trace of greed and envy flashed through the eyes of several nearby drinkers who noticed.
Addressing the owner behind the counter, Redd spoke with a barely perceptible urgency:
"Get me some more food, as much as possible!
Oh, and get me a map from this city to Westeros, too. The more detailed, the better!"
He needed not only to fill his stomach, but also to prepare as thoroughly as possible for his next moves.
At the sight of the gold dragon gleaming enticingly in the dim light, the tavern owner's eyes instantly lit up,
and he snatched it up almost instinctively, so quickly that he seemed afraid it might fly away.
He immediately put on an exceptionally enthusiastic, fawning smile and answered eagerly:
"Certainly! Just a moment, sir! Plenty more, was it?
No problem! I'll make sure you eat your fill!"
He briskly directed his workers to gather sizzling, fatty roast beef and mutton, a small mountain of bread, and several bottles of reasonably good local red wine,
and pack it all into a large, thick, sturdy canvas sack.
The sack was stuffed so full and was so heavy that it looked to weigh at least several dozen pounds. With equal briskness, he also rummaged out a map from beneath the counter and personally handed it to Redd.
Still eager for more business, the owner asked, "Would you like any more, sir?
Or shall I have someone deliver it wherever you wish?"
Redd merely waved a hand to decline, then bent down and picked up the enormous sack with one hand.
His effortless ease, as though he were lifting only a few pounds of flour,
made the drinkers who had been sizing him up and wondering whether to find a chance to "borrow" his gold dragons draw sharp breaths.
"What strength!"
"He looks only fifteen or sixteen. How is he stronger than a grown man?"
"And with that huge shield and sharp longsword on his back, he's probably no ordinary fellow."
Those who had harbored ill intentions because of Redd's youth and shabby clothing instantly abandoned their little schemes.
He was not someone to mess with. Losing their lives over a few coppers was not worth it.
Not everyone backed down, however.
In a corner, several members of different mercenary companies watched with shifting eyes,
and after confirming that Redd really had not noticed them, they quietly exchanged glances,
then scattered like ghosts, keeping their distance as they followed behind him.
For these mercenaries who lived by the blade, the lure of gold dragons was simply too great-great enough to make them risk it.
Redd remained utterly unaware. He focused on the food in his hands, his mood somewhat improved by this unexpected gain.
After leaving the tavern and rounding a dark street corner, he checked that no one was around,
then stopped. With a thought, the heavy sack vanished silently into his system space, as though it had never existed.
He clapped his hands and continued leisurely on his way, completely unaware that danger was creeping closer like a ghost.
Redd wandered a little more around Volantis, taking in the bustle unique to this port city, mingled with the scents of salty sea breezes and all manner of spices.
His gaze passed over the various street vendors before finally settling on a livestock market.
The three dragons had eaten plenty of fish lately. It was time for a change of flavor.
Considering their enormous appetites, Redd decided to stock up on some "dry goods" for them.
Before you continue