Chapter 479: Otto’s Misfortune
"We need peace!" Rhaegar's tone was resolute. "The time for conquest is over. The kingdom needs to rest and recuperate."
Daemon frowned, unconvinced. "There are still many rebels in Dorne, and Braavos is only pretending to be reconciled."
"This is my father's wish," Rhaegar replied, his determination evident.
The new Sealord of Braavos had offered favorable peace terms, willing to settle the rebellion in Dorne and maintain trade in the Disputed Lands. The Targaryens had no reason to refuse.
Daemon saw it differently, perceiving his nephew's words as a threat. "As long as Viserys is willing, we can blockade the seas of Dorne and eliminate the Sand Snakes sooner or later. Braavos, on the edge of the Shivering Sea, could be reduced to ruins within a month if a few dragons flew over it."
Rhaegar shook his head and laughed. Instead of praising his uncle's strategy, he asked, "Have the ruins of Tyrosh been rebuilt?"
"Hmm?" Daemon narrowed his eyes.
Rhaegar glanced at his sleeping father and continued, "Even now, Lys and Myr have not been rebuilt. More than 100,000 people struggle to survive every day. We can't just occupy a city in ashes."
After months of occupation in the Triarchy, true governance had yet to be established. With House Martell of Dorne's declaration of submission, the lands reduced to ashes by the Dragon's Wroth would be included in the Iron Throne's territory. But occupying and ruling are two different things.
Rhaegar smiled. "It's funny, I haven't yet appointed any Grand Masters to Lys and Myr."
Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light as he warned, "If we don't seize this opportunity now, it will be difficult to find such a favorable situation again in the future."
He acknowledged the problem his nephew had pointed out. The Targaryens had the power to conquer Dorne and the Free Cities, but not the ability to govern them. The most crucial point was that Tyrosh still used the magisters from before the conquest, and while Daemon was away from the Free Cities, Mysaria managed everything. The reasons for not ending the war were pride and a desire to be recognized.
Rhaegar, understanding his uncle's thoughts, said, "You can't get fat by eating too much at once; you'll choke."
After conquering the Triarchy and Dorne, the territory would include the Stepstones, the Sea of Dorne, and the Summer Sea. Governing and garrisoning such a large area would be a significant challenge. The cost of maintaining the territory would be astronomical.
Given his father's condition, Rhaegar had only one thought for the time being: stop the war, recover the income from the new territories, and accumulate wealth for the next conflict.
Daemon thought deeply, considering the wealth and prestige gained from this war and the grand cause planned. He asked coldly, "What do you want me to do?"
"Support me and my father, and don't side with the Sea Snake and help outsiders," Rhaegar said straightforwardly.
"The Sea Snake is only seeking revenge for his son."
"Do you believe that yourself?" Rhaegar retorted, lifting the veil of pretense. "The Sea Snake has lost his heir. He just wants to use the war to drag everyone down and satisfy his own selfish desires."
House Velaryon was not limited to the Sea Snake. The late Vaemond Velaryon had five sons, not to mention other branches of the family. The Sea Snake's persistence was due to his desire to keep Driftmark, which he had elevated, out of outsiders' hands and to fight for his own chance.
"If you see so clearly, you should know that I am on his side," Daemon said, aligning himself with his father-in-law and best ally.
Rhaegar glanced sideways and said, "I will appoint you as the Prince of Tyrosh. Tyrosh will be your family's territory."
Daemon smiled seductively. "Deal."
It was better to be given it openly than to occupy it privately. That was what he wanted: a fiefdom and recognition.
...
It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting.
After receiving the envoys from Braavos and Dorne, Lyonel led them to the throne room. The hall was filled with people.
Rhaegar sat on the Iron Throne, holding Blackfyre in his hand, looking down at the assembled crowd. Daemon was the first to sit at the foot of the Iron Throne, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"Prince, the ambassadors are here," Lyonel announced, standing opposite Daemon as he respectfully introduced the two ambassadors.
The man from Braavos was thin with brown curly hair, a gold watch hanging from his chest, exuding an air of refinement and rigor. The Dorne representative was a tall young man with platinum hair and blue eyes, clad in heavy plate armor.
The thin man bowed and spoke first. "The honorable Breaker of Shackles, I am Baelus of Braavos, sends his greetings. May you inherit the greatness and wisdom of the conqueror."
"Please rise," Rhaegar replied.
The tall youth stepped forward, placing one hand on his chest, and said respectfully, "Dorys of House Dayne, on behalf of Prince Qyle of Sunspear, sends his greetings."
Rhaegar scrutinized him and asked, "Who is Davos Dayne of Dorne to you?"
Dorys replied without hesitation, "He is my cousin, the strongest Knight in Starfall, the late Sword of the Dawn."
Rhaegar nodded in understanding and got straight to the point. "The offer from the Sealord of Braavos is tempting. The Iron Throne longs for peace and is truly forced to ignite the flames of war."
Baelus smiled. "Sealord Sparda also favors peace, and he has sent me to bring you a gift."
He clapped his hands, and several attendants brought in a box. When opened, it revealed various gold and silver jewelry, along with precious antique porcelain.
Rhaegar barely glanced at the treasures and said casually, "I have received the Sealord's sincerity."
Baelus waved his hand to dismiss his men and proposed, "The Sealord also mentioned that the money borrowed from the Myr Bank will be settled at the best exchange rate to support the renovation of the Free Cities."
Rhaegar's mouth twitched, recognizing the subtle reminder not to default on the loan. Yet, he didn't want to appear ungrateful. He smiled and said, "Thank the Sealord for me. The Iron Bank has a long-standing reputation, and we will continue to borrow from it in the future."
Whether repayment would occur was another matter, but borrowing was certain. Ideally, repayment could be delayed for decades, possibly using a future war to seize Braavos, thus avoiding repayment altogether.
Baelus's eyelids twitched slightly, silently cursing. The Iron Throne's continued borrowing raised doubts about repayment.
Rhaegar shifted his gaze to Dorys, leaving thoughts of debt behind.
He opened his mouth slightly, preparing to ask a question.
Suddenly, a burst of footsteps echoed outside the hall, and a figure stormed in.
Corlys, face dark with anger, walked up to him. "Prince, the rebellion in Dorne is still ongoing. The soldiers on the front line are fighting bravely against the enemy. How can you negotiate peace on your own?"
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"Silence!" Lyonel interjected before Rhaegar could respond, his voice filled with indignation. "Lord Corlys, you are in the presence of the Regent and Heir Prince. You are only a adviser of the Crown. Remember your place and manners!"
Corlys clenched his jaw, his expression angry. "Sorry! I was only asking a reasonable question as the Master of Ships."
At that moment, Rhaenys hurried over, her eyes and brows showing a hint of fatigue. She nodded respectfully to Rhaegar, then stood next to Corlys and whispered in his ear, "Look at Daemon's position."
Corlys, taken aback, finally noticed Daemon standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, a smile on his face. "Damn it, this treacherous petty man," Corlys gritted his teeth in hatred.
Rhaenys, sensing her husband's thoughts, said matter-of-factly, "Daemon only works hard for himself."
She never trusted her son-in-law and cousin, Daemon. After saving Pentos, she had asked him to stay in the Disputed Lands to defend it, but Daemon had rushed to Dorne without a care.
Lyonel interrupted their whispering, his voice loud and clear: "Lord Corlys, this is not Driftmark, where you can do as you please."
Corlys' face turned even darker. "The matter of peace is too important to be decided by Your Grace and the heir prince alone. It should be decided by the Small Council."
Lyonel was about to retort when Rhaegar waved his hand to interrupt. He knew that leaving Lyonel alone to deal with Corlys's questioning wouldn't achieve the desired result.
Corlys looked at Rhaegar, waiting for his response.
Rhaegar tapped the Blackfyre, his expression stern. "Lord Corlys, the peace negotiations are inevitable. You have no right to object."
"I am the Master of Ships and, in times of war, the Admiral of the Navy," Corlys emphasized, pointing to himself.
"House Velaryon has contributed the most to the Narrow Sea War and the Dorne War. We have always been at the forefront of the battlefield."
Rhaegar's eyes flashed. "I know your sacrifices have been great. If there are any questions or difficulties, we will hold a family dinner later to solve them together."
Corlys frowned, clearly reluctant.
Rhaenys pulled him by the arm and smiled. "We're looking forward to the family dinner."
She paused, her words full of meaning. "Just like hoping for victory on the Iron Throne, even if it means giving everything up." Her eyes fixed on her nephew, conveying her belief that he would understand.
Rhaegar understood perfectly. "Don't worry, everyone will enjoy the dinner."
"Good," Rhaenys said, her smile widening. She clapped her hands. "Please excuse us while we prepare for the dinner."
"Isn't that right, Corlys?"
Corlys glanced sideways at his wife, who gave him a warning look. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yes, Prince."
One must bow one's head when under the same roof. The Targaryens were no longer the Targaryens of old, and Velaryon was no longer the Velaryon of old.
Rhaegar smiled. "Very well, dinner awaits you both."
He breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his aunt Rhaenys's thoughtfulness. Despite everything, Corlys had achieved great military feats and even sacrificed his only child, almost cutting off his bloodline.
Rhaenys nodded to Daemon and Lyonel before leading Corlys away from the place of trouble.
With the interruption over, Rhaegar's eyes fell on Dorys once more.
Dorys, who had been waiting for this moment, stepped forward and said, "Prince, I encountered a suspicious person in the Summer Sea and took him into custody on my own initiative."
He beckoned, and two knights in armor bearing the House Dayne crest entered with a man under their control.
Thick curly hair, green-striped clothes with a black background, a face that was so familiar it was almost too familiar.
Otto was in a terrible state, his left leg hanging limply as he was led by the arm of the two knights.
Bang! The two knights pushed Otto hard, and he fell heavily to the ground, emitting a muffled groan of pain.
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