Morning, 8:30 AM.
"You two, hurry up and lay some eggs."
Daeron sat at the entrance of the chicken coop, stroking the two chicks back and forth.
The chicks were growing fast, their soft down gradually filling out.
"Cluck, cluck, cluck."
Coconut, a white chick, lay in the farmer's arms, squinting its eyes and clucking in enjoyment.
Daeron set the chick down and brushed the dust off his body. "Alright, I'll be back tomorrow."
He was busy enough to be kicking the back of his own head.
After harvesting the first batch of potatoes, he kept two silver-star and one normal-quality potato as food for the next two days, and sold all the remaining seven potatoes.
The payment hadn't arrived yet; it would likely be after he went to sleep tonight.
He cleared a few obstructive trees, harvested some weeds, and gave the chicks a stroke while they were out grazing.
If nothing unexpected happened, this would be his daily routine for a long time to come.
"I've received mail, so I should send out two letters as well."
Daeron tidied his appearance, picked up the fruit basket gifted by Count Owen, and conveniently placed two letters inside.
Updating isn't easy, remember to share 101kanshu.com
The mail he received was, naturally, the letter in the mailbox.
It invited him to a beach 7.5 kilometers east of the farm to collect a fishing rod.
As for the letters to be sent, one was written last night, and the other this morning.
He walked out of Dragon Language Farm.
Daeron looked around as he walked and saw Ser Jon at the foot of the mountain, already up and training with his sword in his undergarments.
Without making a sound to disturb him, he wandered around the vicinity.
Ever since he gained the panel, he had felt subtle changes in his body and was particularly sensitive to Life Force.
On the way to Dragon Language Farm, he had noticed several wild flowers and grasses faintly radiating an attraction.
He might as well look for them to increase his gathering experience.
Morning, 9:30 AM.
"Ser Jon, good morning."
Daeron appeared in front of the camp.
Ser Jon was roasting a wild rabbit and hurriedly stood up. "Prince, were you well on the mountain last night?"
Leaving the Prince alone on an empty mountain—he feared that if the King found out, he would have his head cut off and placed on a spear.
"The cabin was cozy, and the fireplace was warm."
Daeron chuckled, sat down by the fire, set the fruit basket down, and took out the two letters.
"What are these?"
"I'd like to trouble you to return to King's Landing to deliver some letters for me."
Daeron got straight to the point, saying, "One is for Grand Maester Pycelle; instruct him to use a raven to send it to Dragonstone, to my elder brother."
Hearing that it involved Prince Rhaegar, Ser Jon's spirits lifted. "Yes, Prince. And the other?"
"Give it to my teacher, Tywin."
Daeron's words were shocking.
Ser Jon froze, staring blankly at the Prince, his expression shifting from confusion to horror.
Teacher... Tywin... wait, forgive him, he knew those words separately, but together they made no sense.
Daeron continued bluntly, "Give it to my teacher and tell him I am very satisfied with the fief."
He had revealed his secret.
After being Tywin's student for two or three years, this was the first time it had been exposed.
"Prince, I don't understand."
Ser Jon's expression was extremely complex.
Daeron told him directly, "Lord Tywin is my teacher; there is no doubt about that."
"My father, your liege, is in a very poor mental state and cannot give me the guidance I deserve."
"Lord Tywin is a qualified teacher who has helped me immensely. I was able to obtain this fief beneath our feet thanks to his mediation."
Ser Jon was completely stunned.
He looked at the other with an extremely strange gaze, as if he were meeting the youth he had spent months with for the first time.
"Ser, I trust you."
Daeron handed over the letters and said, "You have protected me for two months and fifteen days; I think you will understand my difficulties."
The subtext was: 'We should consider ourselves on the same side.'
Ser Jon remained silent.
Daeron then handed over the fruit basket at his feet and said, "Inside are special crops sent by Lord Owen. I am passing them on to you."
"Prince, I am a Kingsguard!"
Ser Jon's eyes sharpened as he unhesitatingly defended his dignity.
Daeron waved his hand. "I'm not so stupid as to think that things that can be bought with money can bribe a white knight loyal to his honor."
Things that could be bought with money weren't worth his effort.
Ser Jon questioned, "Then what do you mean? Are you tired of your life of luxury?"
It was clear the other man was truly angry.
Among the Kingsguard, Ser Jon, hailing from the Riverlands, was undoubtedly the one with the best temperament, able to endure the King's various provocations.
Now, his words were laced with thorns.
Daeron also composed himself and said seriously, "I said it just now. Ser, I trust you."
"Out of trust, I ask for nothing in return for anything I give you."
Looking at Daeron's handsome face and confirming repeatedly that it didn't seem like a lie, Ser Jon's expression softened slightly, and he said in a heavy voice, "Forgive me, I lost my composure."
"A knight maintaining his own honor is only right and proper."
Daeron praised him and expressed understanding, pushing the fruit basket into the other's hands. "I heard that Ser Oswell Whent, with the help of several other Kingsguard, has successfully mastered the use of Life Force. You wouldn't want to be left too far behind, would you?"
"Oswell...?"
Ser Jon murmured softly.
Seeing this, Daeron knew the other was tempted.
Since the founding of the Kingsguard, it had always been a full complement of seven.
Among his father's Kingsguard, one old knight from The Stormlands was aging and frail, having been bedridden since last year; it was estimated he wouldn't last through this year.
The other six Kingsguard were all in their prime, at the peak of their physical condition.
Gerold the 'White Bull', Barristan the Bold, and Jon Darry—these three remained in King's Landing to protect their King.
Arthur Dayne the 'sword of the morning', Prince Lewyn, and Oswell Whent—these three, after his elder brother Rhaegar's marriage, followed him to Dragonstone to serve.
"Heh, they really dare!"
Daeron sneered in his heart.
It wasn't without reason that his father loathed Rhaegar and planned to strip him of his status as heir.
Out of a total of six available Kingsguard, you, a Crown Prince, made off with three.
Those were personal guards belonging exclusively to the King.
The intent to usurp power wasn't even being hidden anymore.
"Prince, I..."
After careful consideration, Ser Jon still felt it was inappropriate.
In his heart, he held the older Prince Rhaegar in higher esteem than the young Prince Daeron.
And the reason he hadn't gone to Dragonstone with Prince Rhaegar was twofold.
First, the two sides weren't close enough.
Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn went without saying; as Dornishmen, they naturally followed Prince Rhaegar, who had married a Princess of Dorne.
Ser Oswell was a close friend of Prince Rhaegar; the two of them and Lord Jon Connington of Griffin's Roost were always inseparable.
Second, the King needed protection.
It wouldn't do for all the Kingsguard to leave; who would protect the King?
Daeron saw his hesitation and interrupted, "Ser, I said I want nothing in return. Only when your strength leaps forward can you better protect me and my father."
Ser Jon thought it over again, then gritted his teeth and nodded. "Fine, thank you, Prince."
Several of his brothers in the Kingsguard had mastered Life Force one after another; only he was left behind.
Now that the Prince had put it this way...
With no more worries, his pride would not allow him to fall behind others.