The two ministers really did "rush" over.
"Lord Luthor, do you have urgent business?"
Colton probed indirectly.
Luthor was no pushover either; walking with brisk steps and a calm expression, he replied, "Yes, His Majesty was accidentally injured. I must report this to the Prince."
"What a coincidence, so am I!"
Colton had a smile on his face, but he was putting more effort into his legs.
Just moments ago, both of them had received a bombshell piece of news.
Count Owen had come forward to recruit Dragon Guards across the entire Crownlands, proposing that those who were selected as outstanding candidates would be rewarded with special crops.
Dragon Guards! special crops!
Both pieces of information represented Prince Daeron.
Count Owen, a man of the The Reach, was not exactly like a fish in water in the Crownlands; he was more like a fish in a drying pond and would inevitably need the help of a local power.
"It must be me!" both thought simultaneously.
Colton and Luthor exchanged a glance, a faint scent of gunpowder rising between them.
Daeron was amused and asked, "My Lords, are you in a race?"
"Prince, you must be joking."
Colton straightened his collar, putting on the air of a gentleman.
Daeron smiled without speaking, looking at the solemn-faced Luthor.
As a fellow noble of Valyrian descent, Luthor had inherited Driftmark at an early age; having experienced the hardships of sea voyages, his temperament was more resilient.
"Prince, I heard you are recruiting Dragon Guards. House Velaryon has followed House Targaryen to this day and is willing to contribute its humble efforts."
"Oh? And here I thought the two lords were just enjoying a brisk walk."
Daeron sounded a bit disappointed, as if he didn't understand their meaning.
If they wanted to jump on the bandwagon, they had to show their capital first.
Colton hurriedly said, "The Gold Dragons for recruiting the Dragon Guards will be handled by the treasury. As the master of coin, I will surely assist with all my might."
He stole a glance at his competitor and added in a low voice, "Though House Chelsted is small, we are also willing to serve you."
Barristan:... These two are truly shameless, daring to say anything in front of a member of the Kingsguard.
Daeron returned to his normal state and said, "My Lords, I am flattered by your offer."
Colton gestured with his hand: "Prince, why don't we go to the council chamber to discuss this in detail?"
Luthor nodded in agreement.
"Please." Daeron was happy to cooperate... It wasn't even noon yet.
Ministers Colton and Luthor walked out of Red Keep in high spirits, filled with excitement.
They had gotten their wish and received the invitation to assist in recruiting the Dragon Guards.
Inside the council chamber.
Daeron sat with his legs crossed, looking out the window at the ruins of the Dragonpit, leisurely drawing architectural plans.
Only Barristan and Varys accompanied him in the hall.
Ser Jon had been assigned to protect Count Owen, lest someone covet him for bringing out so many special crops at once.
Barristan had passed his duties to the Kingsguard Commander, the "The White Bull," and took the initiative to serve as Daeron's guardian knight.
Varys was a member of this small meeting.
As the saying goes, small matters are for large meetings, and large matters are for small meetings.
The Hand of the King held a transcendent status and didn't need to resort to flattery.
The Master of Laws, Count Staunton, was simply dim-witted and had been excluded by the three of them.
Daeron asked casually, "Lord Varys, are there many of Valyrian descent on Driftmark and Crab Island?"
"In terms of numbers, they exceed those on Dragonstone."
Varys said in a soft, thin voice.
Daeron nodded, offering no further comment.
Varys's eyes darted around as he reminded him, "Prince, His Majesty was burned by the young dragon. You should pay him a visit."
"No need, I don't want to be his punching bag."
Daeron didn't even look up.
Maester Harvy had already quietly informed him.
His Father Aerys's injuries were not serious; his hair had only been singed by a spark spat out by Toothless. The scream was mostly from fright.
The man had made a fool of himself and was likely in a foul mood.
Seeing this, Varys obediently shut his mouth.
He had only asked to see how much Daeron knew about the situation.
Now it seemed that the acting Maester and Barristan were both on the Prince's side.
Just now, the two ministers of the Small Council had been fawning and flattering.
"One prince is covered in honor yet sidelined, while the other prince has a dragon and is usurping his father's power."
Varys muttered to himself.
Daeron didn't even glance at him, planning to set the number of Dragon Guards at eight hundred.
Firstly, the treasury was tight, and they couldn't recruit too many people.
Secondly, there were too few people who met the criteria; even eight hundred would be hard to gather.
"Fortunately, I have help from influential people."
Daeron thought of Lords Colton and Luthor and felt much more at ease.
Though his father's Small Council was cursed as being full of treacherous sycophants, even sycophants had their uses.
They were attacking Rhaegar with all their might, so naturally, they didn't want Rhaegar to take the throne and settle scores with them.
And his father was mad; after encountering the dragon, he neglected state affairs even more.
Colton and Luthor had come directly to him, their intent to curry favor being obvious.
Daeron turned no one away.
Colton's character was acceptable. In the original timeline, when his father wanted to ignite wildfire to burn King's Landing, Colton had spoken out to stop him, thus being convicted and burned to death by wildfire.
Being able to serve as master of coin and take over the duties of the Hand of the King showed that his abilities were decent enough.
Daeron wanted to develop the Dragon Guards and the Princes Territory, and he couldn't do without this master of coin opening the doors of convenience.
Otherwise, with constant excuses, complaints of difficulty, and delays, he would learn how troublesome petty officials could be.
There weren't many records of Luthor Velaryon.
Judging by the present, the man was the Lord of Driftmark, a skilled sailor, and likely familiar with both naval warfare and trade.
Crucially, Driftmark was one of the gathering places for those of Valyrian descent.
The dragon bloodline of House Targaryen was thinning, and even the dragonseeds on Dragonstone were dwindling.
Driftmark had a certain number of people of Valyrian descent, including some dragonseeds, making it an excellent source of recruits for the Dragon Guards.
"It's still those of Valyrian descent who are more reliable to use."
Daeron thought to himself.
In the ancient dynasties of his past life, so many monarchs made great use of people from their own hometowns because they were more trustworthy.
To the Westeros Continent, the Targaryens were still an outside bloodline.
"Dragonpit... Dragon Guards..."
Daeron's mind raced, planning to wait for the young dragons to grow up while perfecting all the organizational structures.
As for outside the Crownlands, a temporary warm-up would suffice... In the blink of an eye.
A month passed.
King's Landing, the ruins of the Dragonpit.
On the debris of the collapsed giant dome building, the rubble had been cleared away, and craftsmen were re-planning the foundations and drainage channels.
"Screech!"
"Screech..."
Three dragon shadows—one red, one blue, and one black—circled in the sky, occasionally darting through the thin mist, their figures flickering in and out of sight.
Daeron looked up, sipping from a bottle of fresh milk.
Summer on the farm had passed, ushering in the 13th day of a brand-new Autumn.
He had upgraded to a Big Coop and bought two white chicks, two brown chicks, and two ducks.
The Big Coop upgrade cost 10,000 gold, chicks were 800 gold each, and ducks were 1,200 gold each.
The total expenditure was 15,600 gold.
In the newly built Barn, he bought three white cows and one brown cow.
Cows were 1,500 gold each, totaling 6,000 gold.
Altogether, it was 21,600 gold.
All the money earned from the second crop of melons in summer and the first crop of pumpkins in autumn was invested into animal husbandry.
High investment, high returns.
The animal products Daeron produced daily could already stabilize at 2,000 to 3,000 gold.
In this way.
With the income from farming and animal products as a safety net, he devoted all his energy to fishing.
His fishing level rose to Level 10 in one go.
And all the fish he caught were fed into the mouths of the three young dragons.
The young dragons were growing rapidly!
"Screech—!"
A sharp screech came from the sky as a crimson dragon shadow loomed overhead, vanishing in an instant.
Daeron looked up.
Coraxes spat out crimson Dragonfire in mid-air, spreading a pair of wide leathery wings and diving through the flaming clouds as if in challenge.
Immediately, Tessaerion and Toothless followed, together pouncing on that snake-like body.
Coraxes dodged nimbly, weaving through the clouds, holding his own against the two of them.
"They can no longer be considered young dragons."
There was a light in Daeron's eyes.
A month had passed, and Tessaerion and Toothless had grown from the size of house cats to the size of large dogs.
Using only their fangs and sharp claws, they could easily tear through the hides of wild beasts.
Coraxes seemed to have ballooned even more, his size exceeding that of a warhorse.
If not for his slender body, he would already be rideable.