The next day, the sun rose as usual.
Someone discovered the deceased Pycelle; it was judged that the old man had slipped and fallen down the stairs to his death.
This was nothing extraordinary.
Many great lords of the Seven Kingdoms had died in their old age from falling down stairs.
"Dammit, that old fellow Pycelle just died like that."
Aerys, dressed in his nightgown, was startled and angered by the Grand Maester's accidental death.
That old thing—who would prepare his soothing tonics now?
Who knew how long it would take for the Conclave of The Citadel to elect the next Grand Maester.
Daeron interrupted: "Father, what are your prospects for my position?"
One couldn't ask about a position directly; one had to speak of the "future prospects for my position."
Aerys clearly didn't care about Pycelle's life or death; he was merely annoyed that no one was providing him service, and he forgot about it the next moment.
"You will serve as the Deputy Commander of the City Watch, assisting Lord Meryn in managing the peace."
"That's it, now stop bothering me."
Daeron was dismissed from the bedchamber.
"Deputy Commander of the City Watch, a very good start."
Daeron said as he rubbed his temples.
He had never been a drinker.
Neither in this life nor the last was he someone who understood wine.
Having killed for the first time last night, he had drunk half a cup of Summer Red to celebrate, and his head had been throbbing until this morning.
"Strong wine shouldn't be drunk in haste, Prince."
Someone nearby reminded him.
Daeron saw the newcomer was Ser Gerold, the "White Bull," and smiled while denying it: "No, just a couple of small sips."
Ser Gerold said seriously: "Summer Red from Dorne is Ser Arthur Dayne's favorite; anyone who has tasted it once will never forget its flavor."
"Alright, Ser."
Daeron gave a bitter smile: "With my appointment imminent, I was a bit too nervous to sleep."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of; a man must learn to drink wine just as he must learn to ride and use a sword."
Ser Gerold was an honest man and offered some kind advice.
Seizing a rare opportunity, Daeron chatted with him a bit more.
He hadn't noticed before, thinking the man was just stiff and old-fashioned.
After talking, Daeron found Ser Gerold to be a man of hidden depth, often able to provide the most practical answers from your perspective.
This Unable to stop him think of a piece of past history.
Again, from the "Chronicles of the Dance of the Dragons."
During the Dance of the Dragons, a war broke out between the Blacks and the Greens, including the Battle of the Honeywine that echoed across the continent.
The story took place after the "Battle of the Honeywine."
King's Landing fell, and the Greens dispatched Ser Rickard Thorne of the Kingsguard to escort Prince Maelor, the young son of Aegon II, to seek refuge in Oldtown.
But they were attacked by a mob while passing through Bitterbridge; Ser Thorne was killed, and the prince himself was torn to pieces in the mob's struggle.
Afterward, when Ormund Hightower, the then Lord of The Citadel, led his army north through Bitterbridge, he sacked Bitterbridge in a fit of rage.
And Prince Maelor's uncle was the first "Daeron Targaryen" of the family.
Known as "Daeron the Daring," Prince Daeron rode his dragon Tessaerion to burn the town and capture the castle of House Caswell to avenge his nephew.
The focus of the story was on poor Prince Maelor.
As the son of a king, he naturally possessed a dragon egg.
The dragon egg remained intact during the mob's struggle and fell into the hands of Lady Caswell.
Before the castle fell, Lady Caswell returned the dragon egg to Lord Ormund to protect her children, then jumped from the battlements and hanged herself.
The last record of that dragon egg was that it was taken back to The Citadel in Oldtown by Lord Ormund.
Daeron asked directly: "Ser, does House Hightower possess a dragon egg?"
"Uh..."
Ser Gerold was stunned for a moment, not knowing how to answer.
Daeron saw a clue in his expression and said in surprise: "There really is one?"
That was something from a hundred and fifty years ago.
"I'm sorry, Prince. I cannot reveal family secrets."
Ser Gerold shook his head and sighed.
But his words already provided plenty of room for imagination.
"I'll be going then, Ser."
Daeron took his leave.
His pace quickened, and his heart grew more joyful the more he thought about it.
He had a red dragon egg in his hand, but it had shown no signs of hatching for days.
No other intention.
However, the more dragon eggs, the better.
If he couldn't use it, he could give it to Shae or little Jace and the others.
At the very least, imitating Daenerys by raising multiple dragons would be a legendary feat.
"Ser Gerold is of a very high generation; he is the biological uncle of the current Lord of The Citadel, Leyton Hightower."
Ser Gerold would certainly know if there was a dragon egg in The Citadel.
It just wasn't clear how the relationship between Ser Gerold and Lord Leyton was.
He heard that Lord Leyton was obsessed with the occult, spending high prices in Oldtown to buy special crops and animals, and even hiring many alchemists.
"No matter what, I must get that dragon egg back."
Daeron made a silent resolution.
While hatching the dragon egg he already had, he would collect the next one... Morning, 10:30 AM.
After meeting his sister Shae and giving her that Silver Star quality Daffodil, Daeron rode back to his territory.
After all, he had killed someone, and his psychological state wasn't quite up to par.
Instead of staying in King's Landing and pretending to be ignorant, it was better to return to his own territory for some peace and quiet.
For example, fishing.
Biu!
On the shore of the Mine Lake, Daeron cast his fishing rod and sat there waiting patiently.
There were three days left until Spring 13th, and the funds for buying strawberry seeds were short by 210 gold.
Compared to foraging, which relied on luck, fishing was clearly a stable source of income.
Sea and river fishing were highly difficult, while lake fish were easier to hook.
"I remember the days of grinding levels by fishing for largemouth bass and Bullheads."
Daeron's competitive spirit was piqued.
Gurgle!
Suddenly, a soft sound came from the calm lake surface.
"A bite!" Daeron's spirits rose.
While Daeron was fishing to make money, a huge wave was stirred up in King's Landing.
The Grand Maester had died accidentally, leaving a vacancy on the Small Council.
However, that wasn't what was attracting attention.
The fact that the mere 11-year-old Daeron was about to serve as the Deputy Commander of the City Watch, assisting Lord Meryn in governing the security of King's Landing, became a major sensation following the Trial by Combat.
Many people suspected the King had truly gone mad.
Others were rubbing their hands together, wanting to seize the opportunity to follow a rising dragon.
Prince Rhaegar was indeed wise, but he was far away on Dragonstone.
Although Prince Daeron was young, he was equally skilled in martial arts and was more favored by the King, about to take over the heavy responsibility of King's Landing's defense.
The discerning eyes among the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms could see it.
An internal "two-party" struggle similar to the Dance of the Dragons era had already begun to show its signs.
It remained to be seen who would bet on Prince Rhaegar and who would dare to go all-in on Prince Daeron... Riverlands, Riverrun.
At lunchtime, Lord Hoster and his family were dining together.
A long dining table, with the family sitting around it.
Lord Hoster was getting old and sat alone at one corner of the table, where he could see the faces of his family on both sides.
Just like the House Tully words: "Family, Duty, Honor."
Family always came first.
There were three people on each side of the table.
On the left side, a beautiful girl with fiery red curly hair, dignified and graceful.
A slender, sharp-eyed black-haired man and a young boy with reddish-brown hair sat on either side of the girl.
On the right side, a lean middle-aged man with gray hair, thick eyebrows, and blue eyes sat in the middle.
The middle-aged man had a face that wasn't easy to get along with, giving off a dangerous sense of black humor.
The "Blackfish" of the Seven Kingdoms, Brynden Tully.
To Brynden's right, a handsome blond youth was pestering him, asking for details about the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
Further to the right was a beautiful girl with red hair and a large chest.
It seemed to be arranged that the large-chested girl and the handsome youth were seated next to each other, their arms almost touching.
However, neither was interested in the other.
One stole glances at the black-haired man across the table, while the other pestered his idol, "Blackfish" Brynden.
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