Felix had barely finished smoothing the sleeve of his coat when Aegon continued speaking.
The prince's tone remained gentle, almost conversational.
"Such businesses require large shipments of goods."
Aegon turned slightly toward him, the sea breeze stirring the pale strands of his silver hair.
"You must need many hands to load and unload your cargo."
His head tilted just a fraction, as though considering the matter thoughtfully.
"I imagine slaves are quite convenient for such work."
The faint, ambiguous smile that had rested on Felix's lips disappeared at once.
For a brief instant, something cold stirred in his chest.
Unease.
It was not fear, not exactly. Felix Bowles had spent too many years navigating the treacherous politics of Myr's merchant houses to be frightened by a young prince's words.
Yet the question had landed too precisely.
Still, he forced himself to remain composed.
Felix folded his hands behind his back again, straightening slightly as he answered.
"A small number of laborers is necessary," he said carefully.
His tone remained polite, though the words came slower than before.
"Transporting goods is difficult work."
He paused briefly, then added with a mild shrug.
"Ships must be loaded quickly. Cargo must be secured properly. These tasks require many hands."
Aegon nodded.
"Of course."
The prince spoke easily, as though Felix's explanation had satisfied him.
For a moment it seemed the matter had already passed.
Then Aegon spoke again, almost absentmindedly, like a man recalling something that had slipped his mind.
"However…"
His fingers brushed lightly along the wooden railing beside him.
"…the laws of the Seven Kingdoms have already been adopted on Drakoncrest."
His voice remained mild, even courteous.
"Slavery is forbidden here."
The words were spoken plainly.
"Buying or selling slaves is illegal, and slaves themselves may not exist within my domain."
Felix's expression stiffened.
The change was subtle. Only a tightening around the eyes. A slight stillness in his posture.
Yet it was there.
"If that is the case," Aegon continued politely, "merchant ships belonging to House Bowles will no longer be permitted to transport slaves through the Stepstones route."
The prince inclined his head slightly, as if offering a formal apology.
"My apologies."
The words were courteous.
Softly spoken.
Yet to Felix they landed like a hammer striking stone.
For a heartbeat he said nothing.
The Seven Kingdoms outlawed slavery. That was well known.
But the Free Cities had never cared for such laws.
Myr thrived on trade, and slave labor remained a cornerstone of that trade. The same was true for Lys, Tyrosh, and many others across Essos.
Even now, ships arriving at the harbor of Drakoncrest still used slaves to unload cargo from their holds.
No one had stopped them.
Until now.
Felix forced a tight smile onto his face.
It took effort.
"Thank you for the reminder, Your Highness."
His voice remained steady, though the warmth had faded.
"When I return, I will instruct my family to hire free workers instead."
The answer sounded cooperative.
Agreeable.
Yet beneath the words lay a tension that could not quite be hidden.
"Ah."
Aegon chuckled softly.
The sound carried no mockery, only a faint note of amusement. Then the prince turned away.
Without another word he began walking toward the newly constructed dragon enclosure.
His boots thudded softly against the wooden planks as he moved.
Behind him, Felix remained standing where he was.
Only the slightest change had appeared on his face.
A tightening at the corner of the mouth. A faint shadow in his eyes.
Yet Aegon had noticed everything.
His senses were far sharper than those of ordinary men.
Felix had concealed his reaction well enough that most observers would have seen nothing unusual.
Respectful, Calm and Cooperative.
But beneath that carefully controlled exterior lay something else.
Arrogance.
Deep and firmly rooted.
It was the kind of arrogance born from centuries of wealth and influence.
House Bowles had prospered in Myr for generations. Their ships crossed half the known world. Their merchants negotiated with princes and magisters alike.
To men like Felix, power came not from crowns or dragons.
It came from trade.
From gold.
From the silent leverage of markets and shipping routes.
Perhaps that arrogance had grown stronger with each passing generation.
But this was not Myr.
This was the Stepstones.
And here, the more arrogant Felix proved himself to be…
…the harder Aegon intended to swing the stick.
The prince continued walking slowly toward the dragon enclosure, his expression calm.
Inviting envoys from Myr and Lys to Drakoncrest had never been an act of simple hospitality.
Every word spoken since their arrival had carried purpose.
Preparation.
Earlier, when Aegon had spoken about rulers needing a clear plan, it had not been idle reflection.
Nor had it been a boast.
It had been a message.
The conquest of Tyrosh had not been a sudden decision born from opportunity.
It had always been inevitable.
Aegon had known that from the beginning.
The envoys simply had not realized it yet.
Eyes were windows to the soul.
Aegon believed that firmly.
And earlier, for the briefest moment, Lysandro's eyes had revealed something.
Understanding.
The man had seen the meaning hidden behind Aegon's words.
Lysandro might not agree with the prince's ambitions, but he understood the direction those ambitions pointed.
Felix, however, had missed it entirely.
Aegon had seen the faint trace of disdain lingering at the corners of the man's lips earlier.
It had been subtle, barely visible.
But unmistakable.
An expression that seemed to say one thing very clearly.
You are merely pretending. Pretending to be a ruler. Pretending to be a conqueror.
Pretending... to be something greater than a boy sitting atop a dragon.
That was why Aegon had challenged him intentionally.
The question about slaves had not been casual curiosity.
It had been a test.
Felix needed to understand something simple.
Something that could not be misunderstood.
Who truly ruled the Stepstones.
The prince reached the edge of the newly built dragon enclosure and rested one hand against a thick wooden beam.
The structure still creaked softly as it expanded and contracted, the strange mechanism within adjusting the size of the interior space.
Aegon studied it silently for a moment.
Still…
there was one thing he could not deny.
Control of the Stepstones sea route was an extremely effective tool.
Merchants depended on it.
Especially those dealing in spices.
Most spices were grown in the distant lands of Essos.
Yet Westeros remained one of the largest and wealthiest markets in the known world.
No merchant family could afford to abandon it.
Cutting the Stepstones route meant forcing ships to take far longer journeys around dangerous waters.
It meant higher costs.
Delayed deliveries.
Shrinking profits.
And merchants hated nothing more than shrinking profits.
Aegon rested his hand against the beam and exhaled slowly.
Even the most carefully crafted plans could contain small flaws.
It was impossible to foresee everything.
And sometimes…
those flaws revealed themselves only after the game had already begun.