The moment the door was pushed open, the two women turned their heads at the same time, focusing their eyes on the uninvited guest at the door.
Rhaenyra's brows wrinkled slightly in that short breath, and his lips opened half an inch, as if he was preparing to ask "Who is so ungrateful?" - the kind of unhappiness that occurs when a conversation is suddenly interrupted, and there is no time to adjust the expression.
Mesalia's expression didn't change much, but the moment she saw the person clearly, her eyes flickered slightly, like ripples on the water surface after a stone was dropped, and then she quickly returned to calm.
And in the next moment, the question that was about to be spoken and the reprimand that was already swirling on the tip of the tongue were swallowed back at the same time.
Rhaenyra's frowned brows loosened and her lips closed together. The expression on her face was as if someone had changed a mask for her. The unhappiness disappeared quickly and was replaced by a warm expression that was much softer than before.
Her body also returned to a relaxed leaning position from a slightly forward leaning position. The letter in her hand was smoothly placed back on her lap, and her entire posture switched from "preparing to ask questions" to "waiting for him to approach and say something."
Mesalia also retracted her hands holding on to the window edge, folding them in front of her body. Her posture was more upright than before, but there was a slightly tense concentration in that uprightness.
Redd crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him, making a soft sound.
His eyes swept around the room, from the letter in Rhaenyra's hand to the trace of disturbed displeasure that had not completely faded away from her face, and then fell on Mesalia.
"They're all here." He said in a casual tone, as if he was saying something natural.
He walked to the table, pulled up a chair and sat down. His boots made almost no sound when he stepped on the carpet, and his movements were natural and smooth. "Are you done talking?"
Rhaenyra was the first to come to her senses, her voice regained the softer and gentler tone than before, and her eyes followed the direction where Redd was sitting.
"I talked about some things about letters and personnel arrangements, nothing important."
She turned sideways, put the letter in her hand on the low table beside her, and added in a gentle tone, "You came just in time. I just asked someone to make a pot of tea and let it cool down after talking to Messalia. But if you are not in a hurry to drink fresh brew, I don't mind exchanging this cup for a hot cup."
Mesalia stood by the window and did not answer immediately.
Her eyes wandered back and forth between Redd and Rhaenyra, and then fell back on Redd. A well-placed smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, like a cat squatting on the windowsill, slowly wagging the tip of its tail when it saw its owner approaching.
Redd leaned back in the chair, put his hands on the armrests, and relaxed his posture.
He looked at Rhaenyra, then at Mesalia, and the corners of his mouth moved slightly. It was not a smile, but more like a slight muscle movement made by a person in order to save the energy to explain something after confirming something he already knew in his heart.
He stretched his legs forward, placed the toes of his boots on the smooth floor, and then said, "I just met Helaena."
Rhaenyra's hand holding the tea cup paused in mid-air. She turned her head and looked at Redd, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Helaena? Why did she come to you?"
"I also want to know this question." Redd's voice did not rise and fall, as if she was stating a trivial matter that had already been completed. "She came alone, barefoot, and there was no maid with her.
He told me something, saying that he could see dragons, many of them flying. He said that I would take them back to a very hot place with stones, fire and black smoke."
Rhaenyra's eyebrows slowly gathered together, as if the stone that had just been flattened was standing up again. She put down the tea cup and unconsciously rubbed her fingers on the rim of the cup.
"She does this sometimes." Rhaenyra said, "She says something that others can't understand, as if she sees something that others can't see. She's been like this since she was a child.
Alicent also asked the bachelor to check it out, but nothing could be found and we don't know the reason at all."
Redd looked at her. "How credible do you think her words are?"
Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her eyes resting on the cup of cool tea on the table, as if she was using that moment of silence to carefully examine the question.
"She did say that she could see some things, but those things often seemed to be separated by a layer of fog, and she herself might not be able to tell the truth from the false.
If you ask her how many of these words are applicable, or even whether they are true or false, I can't tell."
Only then did Mesalia speak slowly, her voice steady and restrained. "In the East, there is a similar saying. Some people will see pictures in their dreams or when they are asleep, and those pictures sometimes come true.
But more often than not, people only think of it after it has happened and say, 'Someone did say something similar at that time.'"
Redd After listening to her words, it seemed that he had expected this answer.
He stood up from the chair, walked to the window, and stood side by side with Mesalia, his eyes falling on the city illuminated by the sun outside the window.
He placed his hand on the windowsill for a moment, then took it back.
"Whether her picture is real or fake, Valyria I will definitely go." His voice was not loud, but very steady.
"But since some people are eager for me to go, I'm not in a hurry to leave.
It won't be too late to leave after all the maps have been surveyed, when everything here has been settled, and when I'm sure I've taken away everything I can."
The air of King's Landing always carries a moist, salty smell, as if even the sea breeze is carrying the conspiracies and calculations in the power arena, shuttling between the narrow streets and towering city walls.
Less than two days have passed since Sir Otto·Hai Tarth quietly returned to this capital.
There was no guard of ceremony, no announcement, and he did not even alert the sharp-eyed golden-robed guards at the city gate - he was like a chess piece blown back to the chessboard by the wind, silently, but enough to make the hearts of all those watching the chess game stop.
He was not reinstated. The position of Hand of the King had long been occupied by members of the Sizhuang family, and the coat of arms of Tarth had temporarily disappeared from the Red Keep meeting hall.
But so what? The sense of nobles is never fooled by titles.
Otto·Hai Tarth, the helmsman of Oldtown, the actual leader of one of the oldest and richest families of Seven Kingdoms, has twice served as Hand of the King, and is the father-in-law of King Viserys I - such an identity is a footnote of power in itself.
Even though he was wearing the simplest wool cloak at the moment and walking in the corridor of Red Keep, the knights, maids, and even low-ranking nobles he passed would subconsciously lower their heads and even breathe a little lighter.