Those who needed killing were killed; those who needed jailing were jailed.
Daeron turned calmly, waiting for Lord Walter Whent's response.
---
Noon
Lord Walter met with Daeron alone, inquiring about the specific details of the tourney.
Daeron: "Do it however you like. If you have questions, ask Rhaegar."
Spending Rhaegar's money to accomplish his own goals.
He definitely had to give the other party a sense of participation.
Lord Walter was still uneasy. "You burned Lord Connington to death. What if someone pursues this matter?"
House Connington of Griffin's Roost had a long history and was a major noble house in the Stormlands.
Connington himself was Rhaegar's close friend and had come on his orders.
Daeron could just pat his ass and leave.
But how would House Whent deal with the fallout?
Daeron: "Connington was burned to death by a hatchling while attempting to tame it."
To reassure the man, he added, "If anyone wants to pursue it, tell them to come find me."
"But..." Lord Walter started.
Daeron waved a hand. "Any more questions?"
After more than a hundred and fifty years.
Dragons had been reborn, but the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms hadn't shifted their mindset yet.
Anyone who dared to provoke him must be met strictly with Fire and Blood.
If killing one wasn't enough, then he would keep killing!
Let dragons and death rebuild the shattered authority of House Targaryen.
Lord Walter was deeply shaken. "Perhaps you are right. House Targaryen hasn't seen such a dominant ruler in a long time."
The last one would probably be the "Young Dragon," Daeron I.
"Another Daeron."
Lord Walter felt a bitter taste in his mouth.
---
Daeron stayed for three days, enjoying the scenery of the Gods Eye.
Early this morning, Lord Walter brought him an intelligence report.
An alliance between the Falcon, the Stag, the Wolf, and the Fish.
"Prince, the alliance of the four great lords is ultimately a potential threat," Lord Walter said gravely. "They may not have rebellious hearts now, but once they make a move, it will be as swift as a gale sweeping through dry grass."
Daeron had heard of this.
Lord Arryn of the Vale was fostering Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark. The eldest son of Lord Stark of the North, the "Wild Wolf" Brandon, was betrothed to Catelyn, the eldest daughter of House Tully.
It might not sound like much.
But an alliance of four Great Houses was an act of overstepping in any era.
"Some of Father's words and deeds were not without cause after all."
Daeron spotted the blind spot.
Lord Walter stated his position clearly. "Prince, the Dornish are unreliable. You need new allies."
"Who?"
Daeron raised an eyebrow.
Lord Walter: "Lord Tywin has a daughter. Lord Hoster has a daughter."
Cersei Lannister / Lysa Tully.
"Let's talk about this another time."
Daeron immediately backed off.
Lord Walter panicked. "You may not know this, but Lord Tywin's eldest son was at Riverrun recently, meeting with Miss Lysa of House Tully."
"I know."
Daeron didn't feel any sense of crisis because of this.
He trusted Jaime Lannister's character.
"You don't know," Lord Walter said urgently, deciding to speak the truth. "I detained Lord Tywin's eldest son here at Harrenhal. Lord Hoster wrote yesterday saying he would send someone to pick him up."
"Hmm?"
Daeron paused, looking at Lord Whent with new respect.
Well done, Walter Whent. You've got guts, daring to detain Tywin's precious son.
Did you learn that from Catelyn?
Lord Walter gave a sheepish smile. "It was for the wood witch. That kid is stubborn; he refuses to leave my castle without her."
Daeron understood.
Whent had used the wood witch as bait, and Jaime took the hook.
Just then, a Dragonguard came to report.
A party from Riverrun was approaching and would arrive at Harrenhal momentarily.
"Who is leading them?"
Lord Walter asked hurriedly.
---
Hall of the Hundred Hearths
Daeron met a legendary figure.
"Prince, House Tully sends its regards."
Brynden Tully was meticulous, his etiquette flawless.
The "Blackfish," Brynden Tully.
The younger brother of Duke Hoster Tully, famous for his exploits in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
"Long time no see, Ser."
Daeron smiled in return.
After bowing, Brynden turned to look at Lord Walter and said stiffly, "Where is Jaime Lannister? He has been a guest here for quite some time."
Lord Walter wasn't a pushover either. "I've already sent someone to fetch him. Wait."
For a moment, the atmosphere turned cold.
Brynden was used to it.
Wherever he appeared, things always got awkward.
That was why he was the "Blackfish of the family."
While waiting, Daeron sized up the squires Brynden had brought with him.
One of them had black hair, a long face, and piercing grey eyes. He didn't look like a Riverlander; he looked more like a Stark.
"Who is he?"
Daeron asked.
Brynden: "My niece Catelyn's betrothed."
Concise and to the point.
Brandon Stark stepped forward, his voice booming. "I am Brandon Stark, son of the Lord of the North."
"I can tell."
Daeron looked him over.
Brandon was tall and wore a black bearskin cloak despite the heat.
Combined with that long Stark face, one could tell at a glance he was a brute from the North.
While Daeron sized up Brandon, Brandon sized him up in return.
Brandon's grey eyes swept up and down, and he grinned. "I thought the famous 'Daring Daeron' of the Seven Kingdoms would be a sturdy man six feet tall."
There was a sour note in his tone.
There were too many rumors about Daeron.
Winning a trial by combat against Tywin's brother Kevan Lannister, breaking into the Dragonmont alone to slay a dragon, bringing dragons back into the world by unknown means...
Every achievement added luster to his resume.
Daeron: "You are very simple, just like your title, the 'Wild Wolf'."
Brandon's face darkened.
A person's title was usually bestowed by others or recognized by the world after achieving some great feat.
For example, "Barristan the Bold" and "The Blackfish" Brynden were famous for their martial prowess in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
Their titles carried incredible weight.
But his title, "Wild Wolf," was just a compliment from the Northmen.
It didn't carry much weight.
Daeron calling him "simple just like his title" was a roundabout way of calling him an idiot.
"You..."
Brandon refused to accept this.
Just as he took half a step forward, Brynden grabbed him and shoved him back with a stagger.
Brynden then explained, "He's from the North; he lacks worldly experience."
"No matter."
Daeron smiled.
He wasn't a petty person.
On the side, Lord Walter secretly sweated for Brandon.
Forget you being a Duke's son; a Count ended up staying in Harrenhal forever just the other day.
What makes you think you can act arrogant in front of a Targaryen with dragons?
At that moment, a golden-haired youth was led in by a servant.
"Ser Brynden?"
Seeing his idol in black scale armor, Jaime's annoyance vanished instantly. He glanced at Lord Walter.
"Lord Whent, has someone come to pick me up?"
Lord Walter refused to take the blame. "I never kept you."
Jaime was furious and said bluntly, "Cut the nonsense. Give me the wood witch."
His manners had long since worn away with his patience.
"You can't take her."
Lord Walter was full of confidence, pointing at Daeron. "The Prince is here in person. Your mission is complete."