Taking advantage of the free afternoon, Rhaenyra went to the Dragonpit again.
"Syrax will lay eggs at any time. I have to stay by her side." Aemon was forced to follow.
The interior of the great dome was spacious. Rhaenyra kept chattering: "Syrax is very restless, and the Dragonkeeper elders said that she is eating less and less." She gestured back and forth with her hands, planning the postpartum care of the mother dragon.
"You look happier than if you had given birth yourself," Aemon laughed.
Unexpectedly, Rhaenyra's expression changed. "The family's dragon egg reserves have never exceeded twenty," she said seriously. "If Syrax is a mother dragon that can lay clutches, she can lay eggs several times in her lifetime, three to five eggs per clutch. As the number of dragon eggs increases, the chances of our descendants riding dragons will also increase."
Aemon was stunned, his eyes filled with Rhaenyra's serious and innocent look. It was as if he was back in his childhood, when Rhaenyra regarded herself as an elder sister and took him everywhere to cause trouble.
"Did you listen to me?" Seeing that he did not say anything, Rhaenyra's eyes filled with anger.
"Of course!" Aemon came back to his senses, pursing his lips into a smile. He was just thinking that the two of them were going to get engaged, much earlier than expected. He had conquered the Vale and had finally taken a seat at the table of power.
"Aemon, are you very proud?" Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. Ever since her father had said they would be engaged, the way this boy looked at her was not right. Am I your toy?
"Ahem…" Aemon was almost choked to death by his own saliva and waved his hands quickly. "Do not say that." He loved Rhaenyra very much. This love was slightly less than his love for Laena, and much stronger than his feelings for Jeyne and Jeynesif. He was a pure and decent person!
"Hmph," Rhaenyra crossed her arms and put on a contemptuous face, as if looking at a scumbag. She did not know about Jeynesif yet. But Jeyne's interference was something she would have a long talk with Laena about. Laena was a gentle big sister on the surface, but she was very jealous behind her back.
"I brought you a gift," Aemon couldn't stand it. Rhaenyra's beauty had been bought with her intelligence; when she made such an expression with such a beautiful face, he was afraid he would be pleased.
"Show it to me," Rhaenyra said, secretly proud. She had finally won.
Aemon dug into his pocket, woke up the sleepy golden-nosed rat, and pulled out a red pottery pot.
Rhaenyra was speechless. It was like a magic trick. The red pottery pot was only the size of a fist, filled with the soft black soil unique to the Vale, and from it grew a single golden wheat seedling.
"Wheat?" Rhaenyra moved closer, her eyes revealing clear confusion. The wheat seedling was as long as her forearm, yellow-orange all over, and the top was wrapped with an unsprouted ear.
Aemon touched the seedling. "Plant it in the ground," he said seriously, "and the wheat within a certain range will grow faster and fuller. It contains traces of magic."
"A spiritual plant?" Rhaenyra was surprised. So-called spiritual plants, like ula grass from the Kingswood, were those that contained a trace of magic. The magic was so faint that even the best pyromancer could not see any difference, and eating them did not cause much change, at most restoring some energy or enhancing one's physique.
"Keep it and plant it on Dragonstone," Aemon warned. "This wheat seedling is still young and has great growth potential."
"Do not worry!" Rhaenyra nodded vigorously and hugged the red pottery pot tightly to her chest, the bulge in front of her squeezed.
"There is no need to do that," Aemon said, both greedy and distressed. There were five golden wheat seedlings in total, which had come from the five seeds spat out by the bronze bird on the branches of his sacred tree.
"The wheat seedlings are golden, so shall we call them Topaz Wheat?" Rhaenyra asked, excited, thinking of the color of Syrax's scales.
"No, it is called Golden Dog," Aemon said expressionlessly.
?
Rhaenyra was stunned.
"Do you not think that when the wheat grows, the yellow-orange ears will look like a shaking dog's tail?" Aemon said, explaining his understanding.
"Whatever you want," Rhaenyra replied, her face unchanged. She secretly decided that the wheat would be called Topaz Wheat when it was planted on Dragonstone, and that Aemon would lose the right to name their children in the future.
At dusk, the bell rang. The white wheelhouse drove out of the Dragonpit and slowly returned to the Red Keep. The carriage was quiet, and the two looked at each other in silence.
"Aemon, I want a seat on the Small Council," Rhaenyra said after a long time, mustering up her courage.
Aemon was surprised. "There is no vacancy."
"Father wants to prepare a seat for you. This is a good opportunity," she said hopefully. Having attended the council meetings for so long, she had many ideas, all of which were rejected for various reasons. As the heir, if her power could not be extended, then she had no power at all.
"Who?" Aemon guessed.
"Mysaria," Rhaenyra said seriously. "She can be the chief of intelligence."
"Mysaria, the White Worm?" Aemon rolled his eyes. It was indeed Daemon's ex-mistress.
"Aemon, Mysaria is a very kind person. She has ideals and bottom lines, and has always encouraged me to be a good queen," Rhaenyra said, stunned that Aemon knew Mysaria's secret. But then she remembered Johanna, the "Black Swan" Aemon was involved with. It was not surprising that he would know about Daemon's famous mistress. "Can you help me?" she asked, grabbing his hand, her eyes sincere.
"The Master of Whisperers is not an official minister of the throne," Aemon said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"But the position is qualified to attend the Small Council," Rhaenyra had considered it long ago.
Aemon sighed helplessly. The Master of Whisperers was a shelved, nominal position. The first was appointed by Maegor the Cruel to consolidate his power: his mistress, Tyanna of the Tower. That vicious woman had tortured Prince Viserys, the son of Aenys I, to death. It had directly led to the execution of the entire Harroway family at Harrenhal. After her, the position was regarded as ominous and was effectively abolished. The Masters of Whisperers who appeared later were not a single loyal minister among them: Larys "Clubfoot," Mysaria the "White Worm," Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, Varys the "Spider," Maester Qyburn… It was hard to find even a good person in the lot.
"Rhaenyra," Aemon said, rubbing his brows, "people who deal in intelligence like this should not be given power and a place on the stage."
"Mysaria will help me," Rhaenyra's mood suddenly became low. She was isolated in the Small Council. Lord Lyman supported her, but he was an old man who stuck to the rules.
"I will think of a way," Aemon glanced at her. The engagement was imminent. It was the first time she had asked for his help, and refusing would affect their relationship.
"Really?" Rhaenyra was surprised.
Aemon nodded. "I will mention it, but I cannot guarantee it will succeed."
"I will be very happy if you help me," she smiled brightly.
Aemon was infected and laughed with her. But he did not think so in his heart. It was uncertain if he could even attend the council meetings, so how could he support others? King's Landing is a rat's nest. He had obeyed orders but not announcements in the Vale, and had more autonomy. It was all for his uncle's sake that he had returned.
At night. After dinner, the Red Keep fell silent. In the King's bedchamber, Viserys, in his nightgown, sat by the fireplace playing with a hand warmer. It was small, with dragon patterns carved on the surface. He opened the lid, and inside was a glowing red piece of silver charcoal. What a strange and ingenious plan, he thought. The hand warmer and the smokeless silver charcoal were, of course, researched and made in Runestone by his nephew. "A little clever," Viserys muttered, "but not used in the right place." He snorted and scanned the table full of his stone figurines.
Knock, knock! Lyonel knocked and came in. "Your Majesty."
"I have something to ask you, and I need your sincere answer," Viserys said. The Hand of the King was the most selfless and reliable person he could think of. They were both monarch and minister, and also friends.
"I will tell you everything I know," Lyonel's face was tense.
"Sit down," Viserys said. "I want to use the Small Council to tie Aemon down, but which position should I give him?"
"The Small Council is now fully staffed, Your Majesty. I am afraid it will be difficult to change the members," Lyonel shook his head.
"Yes," Viserys held his forehead helplessly. He wanted to dismiss the cautious Tyland Lannister, but that appointment was a political exchange to win over the West. Besides, the position of Master of Ships was not important enough. The most important positions were usually the Hand, the Master of Laws, and the Master of Coin. To be Master of Laws, one must be wise and of noble birth. The Master of Coin, on the other hand, simply needed to be obedient.
"Your Majesty, Prince Aemon is too powerful. There is no suitable seat for him on the council," Lyonel said silently. He thought of the shelved position of Master of Whisperers, but appointing a prince of a realm to such a position would be a deliberate humiliation.
"What do you think about making him regent?" Viserys asked, his expression serious.
Lyonel's fat face trembled. "The position of regent has always been appointed when a new monarch takes the throne, or when the king is young," he said hurriedly. The Old King's stepfather, Lord Rogar Baratheon, had served as regent during Jaehaerys's youth. During that time, he and the queen mother had become the true power in the realm. The Old King had endured for many years before he was able to take back power from them.
"Aemon… it should not be that bad," Viserys touched his chin, feeling a little unsure. There was no more suitable position.
"You are in your prime, Your Majesty. It is not appropriate to appoint a regent," Lyonel strongly opposed.
---------------
You can read +100 advance chapters on my Patreon
Patreon(.)com/izan24
•TIER 1 you'll get +15 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 2 you'll get +40 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 3 you'll get +60 ADVANCE CHAPTERS
•TIER 4 you'll get +100 ADVANCE CHAPTERS