"That's more like it."
Daeron also showed a smile.
Among the six Kingsguard, Barristan, Arthur Dayne, and the "White Bull" Gerold were the leaders; they had discovered the wonders of Life Force early on and mastered it ahead of others.
The talents of Prince Lewyn, Ser Jon, and Oswell Whent were almost equal, and their progress depended entirely on opportunity and their own hard work.
Prince Lewyn was the biological uncle of the Prince of Dorne. After his nephew, Prince Doran, took power, he continuously sent special crops to him for his cultivation.
This allowed him to succeed several years ago.
Oswell and Jon were also of noble birth, both being great nobles of the Riverlands. However, as they had become Kingsguard, it was difficult to obtain much support from their families in an era where special crops were extremely rare and hard to come by.
The former was slightly better off; he had a close relationship with Rhaegar and often sparred with experts like Arthur Dayne and Prince Lewyn, achieving a breakthrough through long-term accumulation.
The latter was in a worse position.
If he wanted resources, there weren't enough.
If he wanted time, Father Aerys was neurotic, demanding protection from the Kingsguard twenty-four hours a day. Even with three people rotating shifts, there wasn't enough time.
Daeron had timed it perfectly.
Ser Jon was now by his side and had time to train.
Having heard that Oswell Whent had mastered Life Force, it was difficult for him to refuse these special crops that were exactly what he needed.
"Prince, I will set off now."
Ser Jon felt he couldn't take the benefits for nothing, so he stood up to lead the horses.
Daeron said with a chuckle, "Remember, the letter must be delivered to the Lord Hand personally."
Ser Jon hesitated for a moment, untied two fast horses, and left one for the Prince to use for travel.
The man rode away, leaving only crushed leaves where the horse's hooves had stepped.
Daeron watched the retreating figure, his smile fading. "I hope you can be a good man, Ser."
Exposing his own secret in exchange for a test of character.
If his teacher Tywin knew, he would surely scold him for being foolish.
Human hearts cannot be tested.
"But I urgently need a trustworthy person."
Daeron stood up and picked up the slightly charred rabbit.
The test was simple: it depended on whether that letter would first appear in Father Aerys's hands or in the hands of the recipient, Tywin.
A prince who was second in the line of succession and favored by the King, and a powerful official whom the King feared.
The two of them maintained a teacher-student relationship in private and had even conspired to obtain a fiefdom.
He believed this information would be enough for a grand drama of a Second Son usurping the throne to play out in Ser Jon's mind.
"Let's go, to the beach to fish."
Daeron shook his head and smiled, not taking it as a warning.
The content of that letter wasn't important.
If it appeared in his teacher Tywin's hands first, it would prove Ser Jon's heart was with him, and from then on, he would be one of his own.
If not, it would prove the other party was a loyal and duty-bound knight.
With the other party's knight's honor, he certainly wouldn't leak his secret... half an hour later.
The Red Keep.
Inside the empty Throne Room, the light was dim and heavy.
Aerys sat on the iron throne, leaning over to stare at the letter in his hand, his eyes flickering with an unreadable expression.
In the hall below, Ser Jon kept his head bowed low.
The atmosphere was dull and stagnant.
Looking further down, Tywin stood expressionless on one side of the hall.
On the other side stood two ministers who were unsure of what was happening.
After a long while, Aerys suddenly looked up and laughed loudly. "Tywin, come look at my good son and see what kind of surprise he has brought me."
The laughter broke the atmosphere.
Tywin's expression was serious, dressed meticulously in black, as he stepped forward to the iron throne.
The other two ministers stood opposite, keenly noticing the Lord Hand's gaze sweep over them.
"Your Majesty, I wonder what the surprise is?"
Tywin asked calmly.
Aerys ignored him and turned to call out, "Grand Maester, come over and read it to the Lord Hand."
Grand Maester Pycelle quickly looked up, his old frame moving tremulously.
"Shall I help you?"
Varys pretended to support him, but his words were like a needle hidden in silk.
Before a certain Littlefinger appeared, no one in the Targaryen royal court would provoke his enmity, except for the Grand Maester who despised eunuchs.
"No need!" Pycelle snorted coldly, also knowing to pick up his pace.
Varys smiled slightly, then turned his gaze to linger meaningfully on King Aerys, Lord Hand Tywin, and the Kingsguard Ser Jon.
Prince Daeron's letter had not been handed to the King first by Ser Jon, but was instead turned over by the Lord Hand.
Quite interesting, isn't it?
"Does the Master of Whisperers have something to say?"
Tywin had a keen sense and immediately fixed his gaze on the pale, plump eunuch.
Varys's fat face stiffened, and he quickly forced a smile. "Not at all, my Lord."
He didn't want to seek death and become the next example of Castamere.
Tywin looked away indifferently, having already mentally labeled this pale, fat eunuch as someone to be wary of.
"...The farm is well... I am grateful for Father's kindness... I hope to contribute my meager efforts..."
Pycelle squinted his dim, old eyes, reading the letter slowly.
The general meaning was:
The territory is large, the farm is good, and I am very grateful for Father's generosity and care. I specifically purchased an item from distant Pentos to present to Father as a small return, to help you better govern the iron throne and gain the love of the people, and so on... endless pleasantries, scratching exactly where it itched.
After Pycelle finished reading the letter, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his linen sleeve, thinking that Prince Daeron truly upheld his style as always.
"I haven't raised my son in vain; he knows gratitude and how to repay it."
Aerys was greatly pleased and said, "The letter says a drawing is attached, something that can produce a spinning machine ten times faster. Let's see if it can be made."
"Hmm?"
Pycelle realized belatedly and pulled a drawing out of the envelope.
Prince Daeron was indeed an excellent artist; the drawing was very lifelike, with every part full of detail.
The drawing was of a spinning machine.
However, unlike the hand-cranked spinning wheels popular among the nobility, this spinning machine was more compact, had three more spindles, and a foot pedal at the bottom to drive the spindles.
A three-spindle spinning machine!
The inventor was Huang Daopo, a famous textile artist and technical reformer from the Northern Song Dynasty of China.
In Daeron's previous life, his mentor's wife had one at home; it was an old item from her youth.
The Westeros Continent was under a feudal system, and productivity was very low.
Commoners, let alone weaving cotton and wool, even saved on wearing the cheapest coarse hemp.
To produce a roll of fabric, common women had to spend a long time accumulating hemp thread, spinning it by hand, and making the finished product.
Noble women were much better off, usually wearing wool or silk dresses; they could buy finished products or give them to tailors to make clothes.
However, most women in noble families would learn needlework from a young age.
It was hailed as a virtue.
The hand-cranked spinning wheel had also spread from the Eastern Continent across the Narrow Sea a long time ago and quickly became popular in the Westeros Continent, becoming a sought-after item that noble women vied to purchase.
By today, more than half of noble families owned a hand-cranked spinning wheel.
Of course, buying it was more for show than for its practical use.
The three-spindle spinning machine on Daeron's drawing, however, added two more spindle bobbins on the basis of liberating the hands from cranking.
Compared to the hand-cranked spinning wheel, it was quite advanced.
He didn't expect to make money through weaving; after all, productivity being what it was, there wasn't that much material to weave.
But finished products could be made and sold to noble lords.
Consider it an opportunity for his old father to show off and be happy in front of the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.