The betrothal ceremony ended swiftly, and the Sea Snake hosted a separate dinner to entertain Aemon and the others.
The great hall was fashioned from pure white jade.
Aemon removed his crimson cloak and changed into a loose gown of white silk.
The Valyrian features—silver hair and violet eyes—gave him an exotic air.
Laena's fingers twitched, her eyes betraying an unmistakable look of fascination.
After dinner, they would return to their rooms to rest.
"It has been so long since I've ridden; my skills have almost grown slack."
"Ahem..."
Everyone had arrived, and Corlys, seeing his daughter's state, cleared his throat twice in disapproval.
Laena cast a sidelong glance at him with her beautiful eyes before calmly looking away.
Without a trace of embarrassment, she waited for the meal to begin.
Corlys's face darkened slightly, and his chest rose and fell a few points faster.
"Are you cold?" Aemon's eyes were clear.
"No!" Corlys's tone was sharp; he wished he could cut this boy into pieces.
"I'm worried about you." The first part of Aemon's sentence sounded genuine, but he took a sharp turn at the end: "I'm afraid you'll infect us."
Corlys's face went completely black. He let out a cold snort and turned to entertain the other guests.
Aemon held back his sarcasm. At his age, Corlys still had a strong desire for control.
It was getting late, and dinner was about to start.
Lord Bermund and his family were also present. The old lord and Corlys toasted each other.
Bermund and his wife, Lady Ellyn, were relatively quiet, and the latter got along well with Rhaenys.
Aemon noticed most of this.
Laenor, however, wore a wry smile as he coaxed his young fiancée to eat properly.
By the door, a tall knight with regular features stood waiting, his eyes occasionally stealing glances at Laenor's back.
"Someone new has arrived," Aemon whispered, leaning close to Laena's earlobe.
"Watch your mouth and fill your stomach," Laena said, cutting a piece of grilled sausage with honey, garlic, and chili. She fed it to Aemon with a silver fork.
Aemon was not a nosy person, and he enjoyed being fed by the gentle, elder sister-like woman.
The grilled sausages, a specialty of Tyrosh, were potent and spicy, burning his throat. After a few more bites, a thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.
Whenever there was a tender moment, Corlys would become displeased and ask:
"Aemon, after the betrothal, do you have any other plans on the island of Tarth?"
"Call me—" Aemon did not even look up, subconsciously wanting to retort.
Laena gave him a sideways glance, and her feet in white heels, tucked under the table, nudged his foot under the hem of her skirt.
Aemon stopped in time and corrected himself: "I will help Lord Cameron fight off the roving Tyroshi mercenaries, that is all."
"The Triarchy is in constant turmoil. It is a good time to achieve something great." Corlys said, feigning a casual tone.
"What greater achievement is there than your occupation of Tyrosh?" Aemon smiled, feigning ignorance.
"It depends on how big your ambition is," Corlys said nonchalantly. Knowing that this boy had the same knack for playing dumb as Viserys, he decided to stop talking.
Aemon offered no response.
"You've done well, and you've made progress," Laena said, her eyes filled with tenderness as she continued to feed him. She was going to marry him anyway, and she could not be caught between her husband and her father.
The topic seemed to be over, but it was far from it.
Except for five-year-old Cassana, everyone at the table was filled with suspicion.
But there are always exceptions.
Borros stared at Aemon and said in a loud voice: "Regent, you have the most elite troops in the Vale. Why don't you attack Myr and Lys?"
As soon as he said this, the entire hall fell silent.
Aemon looked up in surprise, wondering where this wild boar came from. How could he ask such a question?
As for the factional tensions between the Sea Snake and the Baratheons, Aemon was only willing to have dinner with them because of his aunt Rhaenys and Laena.
"Borros, shut up!"
Unexpectedly, before Lord Bermund could speak, his wife, Lady Ellyn, interceded. The lady, a native of Dorne's borderlands, pushed her husband's wine glass down and pulled him back.
"I'm sorry, Borros is drunk," she apologized before leaving.
Aemon and Laena exchanged glances, not knowing what to say.
"I will go and check on them," Lord Bermund said with a faint smile, standing up to leave. This dinner was not prepared for the Baratheons, so there was no need to force a stay.
"Then I will go as well," Laenor said, feeling relieved. He wiped his young fiancée's hands, picked her up, and slipped out. This whole situation was too much for him.
In less than a minute, the number of people at the dinner party had dropped sharply. Outside, the stupid words of Borros echoed in the corridor, such as "I'm not drunk."
The atmosphere inside was terribly quiet.
"I didn't know that Lord Corlys actually intended to send troops to Myr and Lys," Aemon said, feigning surprise.
He would naturally not be bothered by the foolish words of a simpleton. But some things, once exposed, cannot be suppressed.
Tyrosh in the Triarchy has a new master.
Lys is in a state of conflict between its governors, and Daemon is lurking nearby. In addition, its geographical location does not match Aemon's plans, so he would not consider it for the time being.
Myr is a typical "shallow water with many turtles." The bloated ruling class has amassed wealth, leading to class polarization. The people below cannot get enough to eat, while the upper class lives a life of luxury. The advantage is its prime location. It is the only coastal city-state among the Triarchy and is backed by the vast Disputed Lands.
Furthermore, its handicraft industry is highly developed, renowned for intricate and detailed crafts. It has an irreplaceable export trade, including manufactured goods like carpets and lace, the finest lenses and telescopes, and glass panes that sell for the same price as Oriental spices. Even its agriculture and finance have seen some success.
In short, it is wealthy.
Whoever occupies Myr can make endless money, even if the slave trade is abolished.
In contrast, the disadvantages are not as obvious. The city has a lot of money and a lot of hired mercenaries. Its military strength is slightly inferior to Tyrosh but a level stronger than Lys. It is equipped with special crossbows that can fire three times in a row.
What is more troublesome is that the people of Myr are afraid of dying in battle. Since the internal fighting of the Triarchy began, they have not participated in many major battles and have been preserving their strength.
If you want to conquer Myr, you must use strategies like the Sea Snake, exchanging territory with the enemy. But a second opportunity like that will not come. If you want to attack by force, it will be a very difficult nut to crack.
Aemon's eyes flickered. Myr was his predetermined private territory, and no one else could interfere.
"It's not that I'm sending troops, but that I am wary of possible dangers," Corlys said lightly.
Aemon agreed: "The former Lord of Tyrosh is always planning to retake the city-state, and Myr and Lys will not miss the opportunity to take advantage." He understood what the Sea Snake meant: encourage him to attack a city-state and share the burden.
"Daemon is in Lys. If you can conquer Myr, the Triarchy will be in our hands," Corlys said, puffing out his chest as if he saw a grand plan unfolding.
Aemon frowned immediately.
"Corlys, let's stop here for today," Rhaenys said, suddenly interrupting the conversation that was getting out of hand.
Corlys looked at his wife and smiled calmly: "It's nothing. We will be family sooner or later." He and Daemon were allies; Daemon and Aemon were father and son; and he and Aemon would be father-in-law and son-in-law.
Viserys was weak-willed and watched the family's hidden dangers unfold without understanding. Corlys, by joining forces with Daemon and his son to conquer the Triarchy, would be serving the kingdom, both publicly and privately.
"Corlys, I'm in a good mood today and I don't want to argue with you," Rhaenys sighed.
She could see that her nephew was not the same kind of person as Corlys and Daemon. He wasn't the same kind of person as her, either. Corlys and Daemon were ambitious men who were committed to conquering more and proving their greatness.
Her nephew was also ambitious; otherwise, he would not have secretly allied himself with Laena and Rhaenyra, and even annexed the Arryn family for the Vale.
But he still had a bottom line, more like a patient and skilled hunter. He waited for the moment when the prey fell into his trap, and then took his harvest without mercy.
She couldn't stop either of them, so she could only try to persuade them.
Hearing this, Corlys stared at his wife, swallowing his words unwillingly.
"You should also go to bed early," Rhaenys said, looking across the table.
Aemon smiled: "Okay."
Seeing his well-behaved demeanor, Rhaenys couldn't help but laugh. He was obviously full of bad intentions, but he was also very charming.
As she laughed, she felt a sense of disorientation.
She saw Aemon stand up. His tall and lean figure was strong, his features delicate, and his smile warm. The white silk clothes gave him a kind of classical beauty from ancient Valyria.
Just one glance, and she saw the same warm sunshine as the tall figure in her memory, making her heart palpitate.
There were subtle differences. The long, silver-gold hair was more powerful than the short platinum hair, and the violet eyes were as calm as water, without hiding the fatigue of carrying a heavy burden.
Gradually, the two figures—one real, one from memory—began to overlap.
Rhaenys was suddenly stunned. Unconsciously, she walked to her nephew's side and gently stroked the face that was so similar to her father's.
"Aemon..." she murmured, unable to articulate her emotions for a moment.
Aemon's eyes rippled slightly. He took her hand that was caressing his cheek and tilted his head closer.
Compared to his mother, Lady Rhea, who was "hard-mouthed and soft-hearted," his aunt truly made him feel a mother's warmth.
Knowing that she was not calling out to him but to her memory, he generously let her touch him.
"Aemon, you have truly grown up," Rhaenys said, her eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions. She had come out of her memories. For a moment, she had truly thought she was seeing her father, Aemon, Prince of Dragonstone.
Aemon let go of her hand and chuckled: "You're still one year away."
"No hurry. When you come of age, we will hold the wedding on Dragonstone," Rhaenys said, staring at him for a long time, her bare hands still reluctantly caressing his face. She felt a bit of joy in her heart.
The child of Laena and Aemon would merge the blood of her uncle Baelon and her father, and pass on her lineage. In the future, when the grandchild grew up, perhaps they could have children with Aemon and Rhaenyra...
Wasn't this a way to make up for her regrets?
In just a few seconds, Rhaenys's mind was filled with a flood of thoughts.
Aemon did not know what his aunt was thinking, but he felt an extra burden on his shoulders.
"Well, if you really want to occupy a city-state, why not wait two years?" Rhaenys finally withdrew her hand, but what she said was quite shocking.
"Aunt?" Aemon was stunned. He did not expect to gain her support.
Rhaenys said seriously: "Corlys conquering Tyrosh was a mix of luck and risk. You and Daemon must wait." The internal struggle of the Triarchy was still ongoing. It would be unwise to attack now!
Aemon nodded slightly. He agreed; otherwise, he would not have refrained from taking action against the Barefoot Governor of Myr. He was there to nominally participate in the betrothal ceremony and stay on Tarth afterward to drive out the Tyroshi mercenaries.
It was best to remain a distant third party before the right time came. When the time was right, his momentum would be like a wildfire.
"Get some rest, don't stay up too late," Rhaenys said, the first part directed at Aemon and the second at her daughter.
Laena's face flushed.
"Thank you, Aunt," Aemon said, trying to hold back a laugh.
"You're welcome. I'll have someone prepare a guest room for you," Corlys said, standing up with a proud look. Of course, he wasn't jealous of his wife's closeness to the boy. At his age, he could see that his wife was moved by the scene.
Aemon's face darkened. Was he deliberately looking for trouble?
"Don't pay attention to him. Let's go," Laena said, taking his arm and walking away calmly.
Corlys's face grew dark.
Aemon walked past him, giving him a provocative glance. As if to say again: "Old man, is it safe for me to be right under your nose?"
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