Back at Harrenhal.
Daeron took off his jacket, which reeked of "dragon musk," and headed to the Kingspyre Tower for the feast.
In his previous life, many conspiracy theories regarding Rhaegar and his father's erratic behavior pointed toward the Three-Eyed Raven.
He had seen the Three-Eyed Raven himself.
The [Immunity Band] was a drop from the monsters in the Mines. It offered a single stat boost: +4 Immunity. It was a decent piece of gear.
Originally, he had intended to give it to his father to alleviate his madness.
But in the end, he decided to give it to Rhaegar first.
Daeron pondered, "If mental immunity is increased, can it resist the influence of the Three-Eyed Raven?"
Challenging Rhaegar in the lists and gifting him the Immunity Band wasn't just about stopping the "False Spring."
He was using the limited time he had to observe the extent of the Three-Eyed Raven's influence.
Whether it was Rhaegar or Robert...
In the face of a dragon's overwhelming power, they were no match for him.
Even the White Walkers, who would arrive more than a decade later, would have to kneel before a fully grown dragon.
The only real threat was the Three-Eyed Raven.
It had guided Daeron, yet it had also harmed Aerys and Rhaegar.
Such confusing, contradictory actions required him to be on guard.
---
The Hall of a Hundred Hearths.
Tables were laden with delicious delicacies, and the fires in the hundred hearths blazed brightly. Accompanied by the cheerful tunes of the musicians, the great hall was filled with a warm, ambiguous atmosphere.
"Prince, would you care for a dance?"
Cersei popped out from somewhere, dressed in a magnificent gown, placing her hand on Daeron's shoulder.
She had finally caught the Prince alone.
Tonight, she wanted a taste of the dragon.
Daeron looked around. Hundreds of nobles were dancing to the music, laughter filling the air.
"What's wrong? Do you already have a partner?"
Cersei's eyes suddenly turned dangerous, vowing to destroy any competition.
Daeron played her like a fiddle. He took her soft, white hand and whispered in her ear, "Have you noticed that Lady Lyanna of Winterfell is missing?"
"What does that matter?"
Cersei was stunned. At first, she didn't understand, but then her guard went up against Lyanna.
A northern girl thinks she can compete with me?
Daeron said mischievously, "The Knight of the Laughing Tree disappeared, and now Lady Lyanna has disappeared too."
He was intentionally stirring the pot.
Rhaegar had gone to chase Lyanna. This was where their first spark of romance would ignite, paving the way for their future elopement.
But why should the blame for their elopement fall on everyone else?
In the original story, his father Aerys was certainly a monster for brutally murdering the Stark father and son who came to King's Landing for justice. But why did the Starks dare to come in the first place?
Did the Stark family really not know whether Lyanna had eloped or been kidnapped?
Instead of trying to resolve the issue diplomatically, they dumped the blame entirely on House Targaryen. It was hard to sympathize with them completely.
Cersei's eyes lit up. "Are you saying Lyanna disguised herself as the Knight of the Laughing Tree?"
"Who knows?"
Daeron didn't draw a conclusion. He simply said, "You could tell Lord Tywin and see how he handles it."
"I'll go right now!"
Cersei was instantly energized. lifting her skirts, she rushed out of the hall.
Exposing that northern girl would feel so good.
And the fact that the Prince gave her this instruction showed he trusted her.
Daeron watched Cersei weave through the crowd and couldn't help but sigh, "Sure enough, people have the most energy when they're doing something bad."
Having Cersei tell her teacher, Tywin.
Whatever Tywin did, it wouldn't affect the next step.
At most, Lyanna would be exposed and scolded by her father.
Her father wasn't crazy enough to kill his own daughter.
But if the truth came out, the secret of Rhaegar and Lyanna being together would be exposed, planting a landmine for their future elopement.
Everyone would know they weren't innocent.
Let's see how Robert pretends to be the pure-hearted lover then, and how he raises a rebellion with his "brother" Ned.
"If I split the Stag and the Wolf, dealing with the Eagle and the Fish will be simple."
Daeron calculated silently.
...
After eating for a while and filling his stomach.
Howland Reed approached him again.
Daeron used vague but reassuring language to make it clear that Lyanna would be safe.
"Thank you so much, Prince."
Howland was both excited and moved. He couldn't believe a crannogman like him could receive help from the Dragon Prince time and time again.
Daeron smiled gently. "Maintaining the peace of the Seven Kingdoms is my duty."
He also made a request.
If Howland really wanted to thank him, he should tell him about the Neck.
Howland patted his chest and guaranteed, "Rest assured, no one knows the Neck better than I do."
In just a few minutes, he shared a lot of solid information.
For example, the annual tides of the Neck, how the crannogmen lived on the water, and the unavoidable paths Northmen took to get south...
As they chatted, they became more familiar.
Howland suddenly fell silent, looking at Daeron nervously, wanting to say something but daring not to.
"Speak!" Daeron encouraged him.
Thud.
Howland knelt down, his voice trembling. "Prince, I have lived in the Neck since I was born. It is barren but peaceful. I have no dissatisfaction with my past life; in fact, I was very happy."
"But." Daeron guessed the next word.
Howland was a bit embarrassed. "But, I have always had a dream to leave the Neck and make a name for myself in the outside world."
"I heard that an elderly Kingsguard has passed away, and the Hand of the King is selecting candidates for the Kingsguard."
Hearing this, Daeron frowned slightly.
Howland obviously didn't meet the requirements for the Kingsguard.
"No, no, no, I don't have such grand ambitions."
Howland hurriedly explained, "I hope that, just as you select Kingsguard, you might take me as a subordinate. I could be a Dragonkeeper, or a squire."
It was too hard for a crannogman to make it on their own outside.
Without Daeron's help, he would probably just have to return to the Neck with the Starks after the tourney, tail between his legs.
But if he could follow Prince Daeron, even if he was just a squire leading horses or cleaning up dragon dung, he could leave his name in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.
Daeron smiled generously. "No problem."
It just so happened that he valued Howland.
Leaving aside the potential connection between Howland and the Children of the Forest, the fact that House Reed controlled the Neck was reason enough to recruit him.
"Prince, Howland Reed is at your service!"
Howland was overjoyed, clumsily mimicking the bowing posture of the southerners.
Daeron pulled him up and gave him direction. "Don't bother with these formalities. You are a lord, you can't be a squire. From now on, follow Davos. Learn the ways of dealing with people from him."
The Onion Knight was a jack-of-all-trades, except for actual combat.
Howland agreed immediately.
During their conversation, Barristan found them.
"Didn't find a beauty to dance with?"
Daeron teased.
Barristan patted the sword at his waist and said solemnly, "You gave me such an extraordinary weapon. How could I slack off and not study it diligently?"
The Kingsguard held no lands, took no wives, and fathered no children.
At his age, pursuing a higher level of Vitality was his greatest dream.
A lightbulb went off in Daeron's head. "Ser, let me tell you a secret."
He concocted a magnificent story about the origin of Neptune's Great Sword.
The starting point was set in Old Valyria.
Neptune's Great Sword was an heirloom of the sea. Legend had it that mermaids forged it, and it later fell into the hands of ancient Dragonlords.
After the Doom, the sword was lost and drifted across the Eastern Continent.
Finally, Daeron found it.
Barristan made a face like an old man trying to read a smartphone, skeptical. "Prince, is what you say true?"
"I love telling the truth."
Daeron didn't answer directly, continuing his bluff. "If anyone asks about the sword's origin, answer truthfully like that to avoid trouble."
Barristan was half-convinced but didn't pry further.
As a top-tier knight, he knew best how powerful Neptune's Great Sword was.
Perhaps its sharpness and material couldn't compare to the greatsword "Dawn" or Valyrian steel weapons, but its quality was certainly not low, and it possessed an indestructible property.
If he weren't a Kingsguard, he could have easily made it an ancestral sword for his house.
Daeron suppressed a smile.
He did this to attract more attention.
Valyrian steel weapons were scarce, but the special weapons dropped in the Mines could be farmed repeatedly.
People would come begging to him for a special weapon.
This was also a way of building his image.
Dragons and special weapons—a perfect match.
Barristan didn't understand the twists and turns. He spoke of business. "I tried to learn the amplification you mentioned. I've grasped some clues and have some insights into the further development of Vitality."
It was funny to say.
He had mastered Vitality for over a decade but failed to discover the Life Frequency.
Actually, he couldn't be blamed.
Daeron had eaten a Stardrop, which rapidly increased his Vitality and instantly surged his energy, leading to the accidental discovery of the advanced usage of Vitality.
Barristan and Ser Arthur had exceptional talent and deep reserves of Vitality, and the latter even possessed the greatsword "Dawn".
But their Vitality was like a stagnant pool.
Without Daeron's discovery and guidance, they naturally wouldn't have figured out the advanced usage.
Daeron said, "Life Frequency is the foundation. Attachment and amplification are preliminary applications, but these are shallow. There should be a way to use it stably later on."
Vitality was gunpowder. Life Frequency was using gunpowder to make bullets.
Attachment and amplification were firing the bullets.
But this method carried the risk of misfires or barrel explosions. It needed further adjustment.
Barristan thought for a while and suggested, "To develop the path of Vitality, you should invite Ser Arthur Dayne. His talent is so high that he will certainly speed up the process."
"How do I invite him?"
Daeron spread his hands, expressing helplessness.
Who didn't crave the "Sword of the Morning," Arthur Dayne? But he was Rhaegar's man.
"This..."
Barristan was momentarily speechless, unable to think of a good way.
At the same time, a beautiful figure in a blue-purple dress stood in the center of the dance floor, dancing gracefully to the music.
Barristan glanced over and couldn't look away.
"What is it?"
Daeron was curious and followed his gaze.
"Ashara Dayne?"
Daeron recognized her.
She was Ser Arthur's sister.
Daeron adjusted his sitting posture to watch the dance.
He wanted to see what kind of skills a woman who could captivate Barristan possessed.
Ashara's waist swayed like a willow in spring. Her eyes held a tenderness that rippled with every glance. Every sway of her step was like the evening breeze brushing over the God's Eye, stirring waves in the heart.
Gradually, people were mesmerized.
Daeron admitted, "Purple really has a certain charm."
The dance slowed, and Ashara curtsied.
Barristan's eyes were glazed over as he muttered, "So beautiful!"
Even he was captivated, involuntarily falling into those purple eyes.
"Bravo!!"
Another voice rang out. It was Eddard Stark in the crowd.
He looked excited. Gazing at Ashara's beautiful face, his mouth went dry, feeling that he had found love.
"My Lady, may I have this dance?"
Ned was young and thin-skinned, issuing the invitation somewhat shyly.
Ashara looked a bit tired. Seeing this young Stark, she intended to refuse.
Ned hurriedly added, "I admire your brother, Ser Arthur Dayne, very much. Seeing him wield the greatsword 'Dawn' in the arena, I dream of becoming a legend like him."
The honest "Quiet Wolf" had learned to seize the opportunity when facing the woman he liked.
Ashara hesitated slightly, her purple eyes involuntarily glancing toward a certain corner.
A silver-haired, purple-eyed youth was looking her way.
Daeron was stunned.
One of the three great illusions of life: Does she like me?
"I apologize, I already have a partner."
Ashara politely refused Ned, lowered her head slightly, and walked toward Daeron's position.
Daeron stood up.
Barristan straightened his back and whispered a reminder, "Prince, she's coming over."
"Why are you excited that she's coming over?"
Daeron was surprised.
You thick-browed, big-eyed Barristan. For a Kingsguard of your age, to have a crush on your sworn brother's sister...
"Prince, may I have a dance with you?"
Ashara walked up to him and extended her fair hand.
Daeron smiled calmly. "Of course."
Hand in hand, they slowly walked to the center of the dance floor.
It had to be said, Ashara was beautiful.
She wore a long blue-purple dress. Her jet-black hair hung before her. Her cool, elegant face needed no makeup, a faint blush on her nose, her bare shoulders white as cold jade.
Even her voice was exceptionally pleasant—a rich honey color, with the unique magnetism of a mature woman. When she spoke, it was like a feather gently brushing across the heart.
Ashara spoke softly, "Actually, I have always wanted to invite you to dance, Prince."
"I am better at painting and farming than music and dancing."
Daeron gave a non-sequitur response.
She was Elia's companion.
If she really had feelings for him, it might not necessarily be a good thing.
However, Ashara didn't make any moves. She just gazed at him quietly, her purple eyes peaceful with a hint of relief, as if she could speak with her eyes alone.
Dornish women were mostly passionate and uninhibited.
House Dayne had strict upbringing; before marriage, female members kept to their duties.
But in the environment of Dorne, the character of daring to love and hate was engraved in their bones.
She hid a throb in her heart, restraining it with extreme reason.
To dance one dance was already a blessing from the Seven.
This scene was heartbreaking in the eyes of bystanders.
Ned stared blankly, watching the woman he admired look at someone else with affection—and a highborn Targaryen at that. He looked like he had lost his soul.
Barristan looked envious. His large hand rubbed the stubble on his chin, turning into a deep sigh.
He was past the age to fascinate girls.
The dance ended.
Ashara's eyes dimmed as she asked, "Prince, is there anything I can do for you?"
She was reluctant to part.
Daeron: "I want to see Ser Arthur. Can you help?"
"My brother sticks to his oaths. He has a stubborn character."
Ashara shook her head, indirectly warning him not to think about recruiting her brother.
"You misunderstand."
Daeron said softly, "I am exploring the path of Vitality. Ser Arthur can help."
"Then I can help you think of a way."
"Thank you."
Daeron felt a fondness for this purple-eyed girl. His left hand rested on her slender waist, and his right hand gently pinched a corner of her skirt.
Ashara was confused.
Her skirt rose slightly, revealing her fair calf—
Daeron gave a gentle shake, the skirt fell back down, and a purple flower appeared out of thin air.
"A Sweet Pea?"
Ashara recognized the flower, and a smile appeared on her face.
Daeron presented the Gold Star Sweet Pea and praised, "Purple suits you, Ashara."
Every farmer in Stardew Valley knew:
If you want to raise a girl's affection, you have to give her gifts.