As they entered the council hall, the gaze of the Pentos delegation immediately fell upon the throne.
A dark-haired minister, adorned with a golden scale on his chest, stepped forward solemnly and declared, "Your Grace of the Seven Kingdoms, Pentos sends its regards."
Prince Reggio nodded with a smile, placing one hand on his chest in a gesture of respect.
Viserys, with a neutral expression, leaned on the Blackfyre sword and said flatly, "Welcome, esteemed guests of the Free Cities."
It was evident that this young king, who often wore a smile, was not genuinely welcoming.
A shrewd glint flashed in Prince Reggio's eyes as he initiated the conversation, "Your Grace, as the Prince of Pentos, I come with sincere intentions, hoping to form an alliance with the Targaryen dynasty."
"Is that so? Haven't the Free Cities always looked down upon the poverty and backwardness of Westeros?"
Viserys scoffed softly, raising his head proudly.
With a family that commanded over a dozen dragons, and having personally tamed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, he was filled with confidence and pride.
The smile on his face was merely a courtesy, no longer laced with the need to appease.
In contrast, Prince Reggio, usually commanding respect, appeared slightly embarrassed and at a loss for words.
The dark-haired minister beside him glanced at Daemon, who stood watching with his arms crossed, and continued, "Your Grace, the Triarchy is amassing forces and poses a great threat."
"The Prince believes that the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and that Pentos and the Iron Throne should be allies."
Daemon nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the Triarchy has deployed numerous patrol ships into contested waters, a most unfriendly gesture."
Their coordinated efforts made their intentions clear—to target the Triarchy.
Viserys frowned in displeasure, his gaze drifting to Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake, before settling on Hand of the King, Lyonel.
It was evident they wished to unite the Iron Throne in attacking the Triarchy to satisfy the ambitions of certain opportunists.
Lyonel stepped forward solemnly, "The Iron Throne would not refuse a sincere ally; however, the Triarchy has suffered two defeats. I doubt they would dare act rashly again."
The dark-haired minister was about to speak when Prince Reggio interrupted him, stating frankly, "Lord Strong, to my knowledge, the Triarchy has allied with Prince Martell of Dorne, who in turn has formed an alliance with Braavos."
"Their sights are not only set on the disputed lands but on the entirety of the Free Cities and the maritime routes."
Turning to Viserys on the throne, Prince Reggio's face grew stern, "Your Grace, your family cannot contend with both Braavos and Dorne. To prevent war from ravaging your lands, you must prepare in advance."
"..."
A lengthy discussion ensued between the two parties.
Viserys's frown deepened as he took in the warnings about the Triarchy's potential for war.
Leaving the negotiation to Lyonel, he quietly weighed the pros and cons.
He glanced at his eldest son, curious about his thoughts.
Rhaegar, however, remained silent, lost in thought.
The recent incident with the wild dragon of the Smoking Sea had renewed his awareness of the Triarchy's treachery.
While allying with Pentos was acceptable, he was cautious about becoming entangled in Daemon's web of war.
For now, two concerns occupied his mind:
Rhaenyra's impending childbirth and the wounded wild dragon from the Smoking Sea.
As the thought crossed his mind, footsteps echoed from outside the hall.
Rhaenyra gracefully entered, her maid Sara following close behind.
Rhaegar turned to see her arrival and hurried to greet her at the door.
Due to her pregnancy, Rhaenyra had exchanged her usual tight gowns for a white underdress paired with an elegantly tailored gown of seafoam and white silk.
Even with her hair loosely draped over her shoulders, her attire remained regal.
The neckline was adorned with red gemstones, the bodice threaded with fine pearls, and her snowy neck bore a dazzling golden necklace.
Noticing her visibly rounded belly, Rhaegar gently offered his arm, concerned, "You should be resting in your chambers."
Rhaenyra rested her hand on his forearm, smiling softly, "I heard we have guests, so I thought I'd join in the fun."
Her usual strong demeanor was softened, likely due to her pregnancy, making her appear endearingly tender.
Rhaegar, with a resigned smile, escorted her into the hall.
Rhaenyra was likely carrying twins, as her belly was far larger than most at three months.
Rhaegar was deeply concerned, fearing for her comfort.
As the siblings walked into the hall, all eyes turned to them.
Rhaenyra offered a graceful smile, her bright eyes subtly observing the crowd.
The hall was filled with astute individuals representing various factions and powers.
Lord Corlys and Rhaenys stood together on one side, while Daemon and Laenor stood on the other.
Though bound by blood, the two groups clearly represented different factions.
The Pentos delegation was, of course, Daemon's ally.
Among the Small Council, alliances were just as telling.
Hand of the King, Lyonel, stood before the throne, conversing with the visitors.
At the first seat beside him sat Lord Lyman, the Master of Coin, his close ally.
Lord Otto, Master of Laws, and Lord Jasper, Master of Justice, stood together.
Grand Maester Orwyle and Master of Whisperers Tormund were beside Rhaegar at the edge of the gathering.
The three groups represented the King, the Queen, and the Heir.
The Kingsguard were also present in the hall.
Commander Ser Erryk Cargyll stood beside the King, ever vigilant.
Upon seeing Rhaenyra's swollen belly, the Pentos delegation offered their respectful greetings.
Prince Reggio himself approached warmly, "Princess, forgive me for not attending your wedding to the prince. It is a lifelong regret."
"It's quite alright. You are our guest at Dragonstone, and I shall ensure you are well-received," Rhaenyra replied gracefully, her smile courteous.
As Dragonstone was her domain, only she could extend such hospitality.
"Thank you, fair princess," Reggio said with a nod, signaling a noblewoman to present a wooden box, "This is a gift for you and the prince. Please, open it."
Rhaenyra glanced at Rhaegar, who nodded his approval. She then opened the box, revealing a candle of clear glass as thick as a baby's fist.
Prince Reggio explained, "This was acquired from an alchemist, said to be a relic from ancient Valyria."
Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he touched the glass candle, channeling a hint of his magic into it.
"The exploration mission has commenced. Target: the sorcerer's secret candle."
The system's voice echoed in his mind—another relic candle from Valyria.
Summon the System Panel.
[Blood Mage's Secretary Candle]
Exploration Progress: 0.5%
"Thank you for your kindness. It's a very memorable gift."
Rhaegar withdrew his hand and offered a polite thank-you.
Prince Reggio chuckled warmly. "I have heard of your fondness for collecting ancient artifacts. I have prepared an old sculpture of the Holy Mother, one of the Seven Gods, especially for the princess. May the Holy Mother bless the child in her womb."
His words were friendly and respectful, managing to be both flattering and dignified, perfectly attuned to the needs of those present.
As the saying goes, one does not strike a smiling face. Rhaegar responded with a smile. "I can see your sincerity, Prince."
No wonder even someone as proud as Daemon chose to associate with him.
It wasn't simply that Daemon had been hosted by him while traveling through Pentos—it was that Reggio truly understood how to win people over.
With just a few well-placed gestures, he had gained the favor of both Rhaegar and Rhaenyra, making the conversation flow much more smoothly.
Feeling tired from sitting for too long, Viserys suggested, "Prince, I have prepared a welcome banquet. Let's continue our discussion there."
"As the host wishes," Prince Reggio agreed graciously.
Afternoon, Cliffside by the Sea.
"Hiss—Gah—"
The deep, resonant roar of a dragon echoed repeatedly. A massive, jet-black dragon lay lazily on the grass, emitting low, guttural growls from deep in its throat.
"Good boy. Still sulking over your failed hunt?"
Rhaegar stood before the enormous dragon's head, rubbing the rough scales beneath its jaw with both hands.
The dragon, Glutton, closed its green slit-pupil eyes. Its broad, dark wings stretched out briefly, casting a shadow that covered hundreds of meters, before it settled back down to its nap.
The dragon's external wounds had healed, but the fracture in its left wing still needed more time to mend, leaving it rather uninterested in its surroundings.
That wild dragon from the Smoking Sea was quite formidable—its dragonfire had a superior form, and its flight speed was remarkable.
Its large head was another unique trait, packed with rows of razor-sharp fangs capable of devastating attacks.
Rhaegar staggered as Glutton flapped its wings, sending powerful gusts that nearly knocked him off his feet. He fell backward onto the ground.
Rolling his eyes, he lay there staring up at the fearsome black dragon before him.
Even just its head was larger than a house.
Its thick, muscular neck measured seven to eight meters in diameter, covered in scales as dark and solid as forged steel.
From head to tail, the dragon spanned roughly 120 to 125 meters—too large to fit within the front courtyard of a typical castle.
Its vast, black wings, when fully extended, stretched at least 220 to 235 meters from tip to tip, casting a shadow so large it could blot out the sun.
Its size was only about one-fifth smaller than Vhagar, putting it in the prime of its life.
"Hiss—Gah—"
Suddenly, Glutton snapped open its green slit-pupil eyes, standing up on its massive limbs and letting out a low warning growl.
Rhaegar turned his head and saw Tormond, dressed in black and white robes, leading a group of Dragon Guards. They were carrying a three-meter-tall bronze statue.
The statue depicted a woman with a benevolent expression—the Holy Mother, one of the Seven Gods.
Rhaegar couldn't help but smile.
The two septons at Harrenhal had been persistently requesting a bronze statue of the Holy Mother. And now, someone had delivered one straight to him instead.
As the statue was set down, Rhaegar carefully examined it.
It was an ancient piece, sculpted using old techniques. A layer of greenish oxidation covered its surface, making it impossible to discern its original bronze-gold color.
Reaching out to touch it, he suddenly heard the system's notification.
"Exploration mission activated. Target: Ancient Bronze Statue of the Holy Mother."
Rhaegar's smile deepened as he pulled up the Explorer's Panel.
[Ancient Bronze Statue of the Holy Mother]
Exploration Progress: 0.3%
"Another relic. I wonder what treasures this one will reveal."
Nodding to himself, Rhaegar gave instructions. "Leave the statue here by the cliffside. I'll be spending the night with Glutton."
"Yes, my prince," the Dragon Guards replied respectfully before departing.
Rhaegar sat cross-legged, leaning against the statue as the exploration progress continued to rise.
He had no intention of placing an unknown artifact inside the Stone Drum Tower.
Of course, there was also another small reason.
"Rhaenyra is truly terrifying," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.
According to Grand Maester Orwyle, a woman's desires could become even stronger after conception.
Ever since the ceremony, Rhaegar had spent three consecutive nights exhausting himself to please Rhaenyra.
Yet, because she was pregnant, he didn't dare to make any bold movements.
After she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, he was left frustrated, face flushed red, unable to sleep at all.
If he didn't take a break, his dark circles would soon return.
"Prince, Ser Silio has sent word. There are also some rumors concerning Pentos and Braavos," Tormond reported, standing nearby. He pulled a letter from his robe and handed it over.
Rhaegar took the letter and read it, his expression gradually growing serious.
The first line read:
"[A wild dragon from the Smoking Sea has appeared in the waters near Lys. Fishermen claim that dragon's blood has boiled the fish and shrimp in the sea.]"
(End of Chapter)