The "Onion Knight" was not a man to hesitate.
On the contrary, the fact that he could sail the seas and break the blockade to relieve the famine at Storm's End proved he had courage to spare and an impeccable sense of timing.
Thump!
Davos dropped to one knee. His heart was pounding against his ribs like a war drum, but his resolve was unshakable.
"Prince, in other matters, I might be found wanting."
"But when it comes to sailing and dealing with people? I've been as far as the Wall and across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. I'm confident I'm second to none."
"I am Davos Seaworth of Flea Bottom, a smuggler looking to find his way back. I beg you for a chance. Let me take the helm for you. I offer my loyalty in exchange for honor."
His words were sincere, carrying the determination of a man from the bottom rung of society seizing a chance to change his fate.
He didn't get an immediate response.
Daeron stared at him. Even while kneeling, the man's back was straight, revealing a self-respect that rivaled any true knight.
Only his low birth had buried his talents.
Like a nugget of gold hidden in the mud, waiting for the right person to find it.
Now, it was time for that gold to shine.
Daeron's expression turned serious. "Davos Seaworth, do you desire honor?"
"Yes, my Prince," Davos took a deep breath and answered honestly.
Daeron pressed on. "If I were to have you knighted, would you be willing to cast aside your past crimes and embrace a new life?"
"I would ask for nothing more!" Davos looked up, his eyes full of earnestness.
"Good."
Daeron bent down and personally helped him up.
He told Davos that he would find a true knight to perform the dubbing ceremony and guide him onto the path of righteousness.
"Well, I'll be..."
Count Owen felt a surge of acid in his stomach, looking as if he'd just bitten into a raw lemon.
---
The Small Council.
"Prince, please, have mercy. The dungeons in the Red Keep can't hold this many prisoners."
"Master of Laws" Lord Symond pleaded bitterly, practically tossing his dignity aside.
It had been several days since the purge of King's Landing began.
Even after sorting through the criminals caught by the Gold Cloaks, there were still over eight hundred and seventy people detained.
Nearly nine hundred men!
Forget whether the dungeons could physically fit them—just feeding them enough to keep them from starving was a massive expense.
"Lord Symond, it isn't that I don't sympathize with you, but I have other plans."
Daeron had made a surprise appearance at the Small Council meeting, sitting in the Hand of the King's chair.
Technically, a Prince and Vice Commander of the City Watch wasn't qualified to sit on the Small Council.
But he was the King's favorite son, and he controlled the only armed force in the city.
He had just returned from the Mud Gate when he was surrounded by several ministers and ushered into the meeting.
The King and the Hand were, once again, absent.
Lord Symond puffed out his mustache in frustration. "Prince, what exactly are you planning?"
"Indeed, Prince."
Lord Chester, the Master of Coin, chimed in from the side.
There were four ministers present, and these two were leading the charge.
Daeron had nothing to hide. He spoke clearly: "I have already ordered the Acting Grand Maester to send a raven to the Wall. We are informing the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to send men to collect the prisoners."
Beyond the Wall, the White Walkers were stirring.
The Night's Watch was the first line of defense for the Seven Kingdoms.
They were desperately short on manpower, and Daeron had just arrested a massive number of criminals.
He was sure the Lord Commander would be more than happy to replenish his ranks.
"The Night's Watch?"
Varys the Spider's eyes darted around.
The other three ministers looked at each other; they couldn't find a flaw in the logic.
In the purge plan, those who escaped execution were all guaranteed to take the black and head for the Wall.
For King's Landing, it was just removing a batch of unstable elements.
But for the Watch on the Wall, these were the best recruits they could hope for.
Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, nodded silently. "This plan is feasible."
Born of House Velaryon, supporting the Royal Family was the duty of every head of his house.
Given that he had already offended Prince Rhaegar, he was leaning more towards Prince Daeron, whom the King favored.
Especially now that Daeron controlled the City Watch.
Judging by his iron-fisted approach and decisive nature, Daeron was no weaker than the willful Rhaegar.
With the fate of the prisoners decided, the meeting dissolved.
After the others left, Daeron stayed behind.
He kept Ser Gerold Hightower, the "White Bull" and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, alone in the room.
"Prince, I'll keep watch," Ser Jon Darry said, stepping outside to guard the door.
Daeron nodded.
He turned his gaze to Ser Gerold.
Knowing that Solar Essence helped hatch dragon eggs, he absolutely could not let the egg held by House Hightower slip through his fingers.
He had to get it.
"Ser..."
Daeron barely opened his mouth.
Ser Gerold sighed helplessly and cut him off. "Prince, I am willing to write a letter. It will be a personal letter sent back to the Hightower."
"Truly?" Daeron sat up straighter.
Ser Gerold nodded. "I cannot say more than that. If my nephew, Lord Leyton, is interested, he will give you a reply."
"That is enough!"
Daeron pressed on, "What does Lord Leyton need? Even if it's a seat on the Small Council, I can vacate one for him."
In his memory, House Hightower of Oldtown had always been a renowned great house of the Seven Kingdoms.
During the Dance of the Dragons, they were the leaders of the Greens.
After that, they had gradually kept a low profile, rarely touching power.
The current Small Council was full of loafers who only knew how to flatter his father, Aerys, and slander his big brother, Rhaegar.
With Daeron's current weight, pulling one of them off their horse wouldn't be an issue.
If push came to shove, he could even give away his teacher Tywin's position as Hand of the King.
"Prince, absolutely not."
Ser Gerold was startled and quickly stopped him. "Lord Leyton has no interest in power. If you wish to send a greeting gift, some of those... special crops or items of yours would suffice."
His nephew, Leyton Hightower, had been researching the arcane in the High Tower to the point of obsession.
After listening to Ser Jon's persuasion over the last few days, he had hinted that Prince Daeron possessed many special crops and items.
And that they were of extremely high quality.
That would surely satisfy Leyton's interests.
"No problem."
Daeron promised immediately.
If it meant getting the dragon egg, a few special crops were nothing.
He'd even buy a live, special cow that produced vitality-filled milk as a return gift.
A cow that produced such magical products...
Currently, in the entire Seven Kingdoms, only Count Owen's family at Cider Hall had one.
It was worth more than ten thousand gold dragons.
---
That Night.
Daeron stayed at the farm.
It was the last day of Spring. Tomorrow, Summer would begin.
Before the season changed, he had to sell his crops and non-essential items.
This included the two harvests of strawberries, forageables, two amethysts, one emerald, and a large egg.
Once the money came in tomorrow, he could begin his summer expansion.
2:00 AM.
The settlement screen appeared right on time:
[Farming: 5,760g]
[Foraging: 380g]
[Fishing: 0g]
[Mining: 520g]
[Other: 95g]
[Total: 6,755g]
---
Daybreak.
Spring left and Summer arrived; the climate shifted overnight.
Cluck, cluck, cluck!
At the first crow of the rooster, Daeron opened his eyes and got out of bed.
He checked the interface immediately.
Summer 1, Monday. Windy. 6:00 AM.
[Current Funds: 8,489g]
"So the farm year really is only four months, with 28 days per month."
Daeron was mentally prepared for this.
It was just a change of seasons.
Time on the farm and the outside world ran concurrently.
It wasn't like Daeron aged a year every time the farm went through a cycle.
Since it was the first day of Summer, he turned on the TV.
[Weather Report]: "Tomorrow... clear skies... perfect for foraging..."
[Fortune Teller]: "The spirits are very happy today! You will have good luck."
[Living on the Land]: "Summer is here! That means you can plant all sorts of new crops!"
"Take Hops, for example."
"The vines take a while to grow, but once they're fully grown, they produce a bountiful harvest every single day."
"So, good luck out there!"
Daeron picked up the red dragon egg, which still held the residual warmth of the fireplace. He smiled.
"First year of Summer. Time to go to Dragonstone."