Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 55: The Great Game XI
King's Landing
Red Keep
Benjen 'The Left Hand' Snow
Benjen looked at the beautiful form of Lyanna Mormont from the sidelines of the private training yard of the royal family. He made no sound as he entered the sidelines, yet he knew Lyanna was aware of his presence even without glancing in his direction. She was wearing form-fitting training clothes, and Benjen couldn't keep his eyes away from some dangerous areas as she moved around mesmerizingly.
Benjen almost lost himself in the view when he suddenly realized his mouth was half open and almost drooling. He immediately shut it, his teeth clanging together like a hammer striking metal from the force he used. He relaxed his mouth and face, cursing himself as he had nearly bit his tongue in the process.
Maybe because he had shaken off the immediate effect Lyanna had on him, Benjen suddenly noticed something else. The movements she made as she flowed through the stances became more exaggerated, turning each transition into an artful spectacle in his eyes. Benjen was very glad that his pants were not tight-fitting; otherwise, his perverse thoughts would have been discovered by Lyanna with a single glance. Yet the widening smirk on Lyanna's face made him sweat even more with worry.
Lyanna finished the current set of stances and sword movements, and Benjen decided to enter the yard himself for a spar.
Even without turning to look at him, Lyanna spoke. "Finally, you got tired of admiring my beauty from a distance and entered the yard yourself. I thought you had forgotten my offer to train you every day, Benjen, just because you became the powerful left hand of a Targaryen prince."
Benjen shook off all the wrong emotions regarding his sister and immediately slipped back into the playful familiarity he had shared with Lyanna back in Winterfell.
"Ah, what can I say? Even without full noble lessons like some people received, Prince Daemon is more impressed by my talents in managing his affairs. I also heard from him that you got spanked by him and were even made a guardian to Princess Gael," Benjen retorted with a grin.
Lyanna's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the retort from her younger brother. She quickly schooled her expression and then grinned wickedly.
"You've clearly become bolder in my absence, Benjen. Retorting to a noble lady is punishable on its own—let alone when said lady could beat you easily in a fight. And more than that, openly admiring my body so boldly and committing it to memory for—" Lyanna paused with an exaggerated thoughtful look, then continued with sudden understanding, "—using it when you're alone with your own left hand."
Benjen immediately sputtered denials as his face grew redder with shame and embarrassment. Lyanna simply enjoyed the sight and giggled mockingly. Even after several heartbeats, Benjen couldn't look at her or string two coherent words together.
Lyanna finally stopped laughing and said, "Oh, relax, brother. I was just teasing. Even I can't blame you for admiring me. I am that beautiful, after all."
Benjen really wanted to accept it see how Lyanna would respond and deny the statement because he was afraid of the same reason, but couldn't decide which path to take. Instead, he latched onto one thing she had said.
"So you finally agree that we are siblings, Lyanna," Benjen snapped, carefully controlling his emotions. "We spent so much time together, and yet you didn't say a single word until our father acknowledged me. You knew—and still said nothing."
Lyanna nodded, looking slightly hesitant. "Of course I know who my half-siblings are, Benjen. I couldn't make our father do anything, and even if I had told you, it would have been useless without his acknowledgment. Also, you being my brother is one of the reasons I took you under my wing and trained you. There is a reason I suffer your presence after all," she finished with a playful grin.
Benjen remained stoic for a few heartbeats before finally relaxing. "Ah well… thank you for caring for me when you didn't have to, sister. I am eternally grateful. Still, I want to know why you never made Daemon acknowledge any of us when you could have asked him yourself at any time."
All playfulness vanished from Lyanna's expression, replaced by sorrow.
"To be honest, brother, when I was a child, I was afraid to ask our father that question. I feared that if he acknowledged others, his love and presence in my life would vanish or be divided. That fear stayed with me for a long time—so long that even when I grew older and didn't need him as much, I was still afraid of losing him. For that, I am sorry."
Benjen immediately regretted asking the question and simply nodded.
"Come then, sister," Benjen said to break the uncomfortable silence. "Let's spar. I need to shake the rust from my form." He drew his sword from its sheath, still keeping an eye on Lyanna's stance. He had eaten snow many times before due to her surprise attacks, often without any warning or formal start of the bout.
Lyanna immediately brightened, grinning in excitement. Benjen watched her legs and eyes, trying to predict her movement. She couldn't resist teasing him further.
"Brother, are you really here to spar, or are you just here to admire my body without anyone judging you?" Lyanna smirked at the embarrassed Benjen. What happened next surprised her. This time, Benjen shook off his embarrassment far more easily and grinned openly in admiration.
"Well, you can't blame me, sister. We have Targaryen blood—being attracted to siblings is practically a rite of passage," Benjen replied, deliberately letting his gaze linger on her bust and toned hips before meeting her eyes, which struggled to hide her surprise and faint curiosity.
Lyanna smirked. "Well, well. Finally, the truth is spoken. It took you long enough to admit it. But do you really think you deserve me, little brother, when no one else could match up in my eyes? I am to be Lady Mormont, after all—and a far better fighter than you."
Benjen laughed at the joke, though a faint glint appeared in his eyes. "Maybe not now. But I work with our father far more closely than you do, and he's been teaching me things. Maybe I should mention that I'd be very happy if he gave me his blessing to pursue you—and perhaps he'd grant it as a reward."
Lyanna scoffed. "Well, that was surprisingly quick—how fast you realized our father's nature and what he would do. It would be a reward for you, and yet he wouldn't even have to do anything. It's an efficient move, straight out of his playbook. I do wonder how many people he would promise my hand as a reward provided if they could convince me."
She studied Benjen with a thoughtful look. "No wonder he picked you for this post, brother. You have a knack for reading people and telling them what they want to hear."
Lyanna paused, then looked Benjen up and down with a curious gleam before grinning in amusement. "Let's see those big brains at work. Tell me—what do I want? And maybe, if you're correct, I'll reward you."
Benjen smirked proudly at the praise, straightening his back and puffing out his chest in confidence. That pride was immediately crushed as Lyanna launched her attack—blindingly fast—and the next thing Benjen knew, he was staring at the morning sky as he groaned in pain.
After a few deep breaths, Benjen forced himself back to his feet. He looked at Lyanna warily. "How did you get even faster? And I thought you wanted to hear my thoughts about you."
"Well, trying to punish our father tends to have that effect," Lyanna replied with a shrug. "The fighting was brutal, and the only way I could keep up was by improving rapidly. And who says we can't talk while we train, little brother?"
"Typical," Benjen muttered with a defeated sigh. He had thought he had improved significantly sparring with Mountain back in Winterfell—yet Lyanna had surged even further ahead.
Lyanna smirked in response and went for another attack as she said, "I am waiting for your answer."
Benjen managed to defend this time, because Lyanna was slower, deliberately trying to match his speed. Even so, he couldn't think of what to reply—until suddenly the reason for both the question and the attack struck him. Lyanna wanted an answer straight from his mind, not something carefully thought up to impress her.
Lyanna pressed on with her attacks, still taunting him for an answer.
Benjen finally managed to retreat just enough to speak as they circled each other, swords flashing while Lyanna tested for openings.
"I think you," Benjen said—grunt, defending another slash—"are being wicked for doing this"—grunt—"to me. You asked me if I think I deserve you. I think you're still not married because you"—grunt—"because you believe you deserve far more than the current offerings. The problem with you is that no one ever matches up in your view, because you're always comparing everyone to our father—and of course no one can match him."
Suddenly, Lyanna's speed faltered, her attacks slowing just enough to create a slight opening. Benjen immediately took advantage of it, though Lyanna, still faster than him, easily defended.
"You must stop comparing everyone before you to the god-blessed one, sister, and judge who you want on their own merit, rather than against someone blessed like our father. In plain words you must let go of your arrogance."
Benjen saw the realization hit Lyanna, and he groaned inwardly as he realized he was in for a world of pain for being this honest and when both heard the unspoken words.
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Benjen didn't know how much time had passed. One thing he did know was that he couldn't even think, focused solely on forcing as much air into his lungs as possible. The sparring had been the fastest he had ever experienced, and right then and there Benjen decided he would have to ask his father for lessons if he ever hoped to catch up to Lyanna. His body felt as though he had been body-slammed by the Mountain as he lay on the ground in defeat.
Yet he grinned when he saw the gleam in Lyanna's eyes as she stood over him. There was a subtle change in the way she looked at him. Earlier, there had been indulgence—the look of an elder humoring a foolish younger boy. Now there was a hint of respect, and curiosity.
Lyanna bent slightly and offered him her hand to help him up, and Benjen gladly grasped it.
"You are correct, in a sense, brother," Lyanna said. "I must stop comparing everyone to our father if I ever want to find someone. Or I must copy his ways—start sleeping around and then forget them." she snipped with a pointed look at Benjen.
"Never," Benjen snapped immediately. "You are a noble lady. You must never do that."
"Oh?" Lyanna replied with a teasing grin. "Do you forget I am Lady Mormont, brother? Don't you know many Mormonts have had children from bears in the forest?" She tilted her head slightly. "And was that jealousy I heard in your voice?"
Benjen immediately shook his head in denial, though he knew it was useless.
Lyanna laughed. "You are too caring, brother. Maybe you should have pushed for that, because if I ever did start sleeping around, you would be at the top of my list." Lyanna replied and immediately left the yard without looking back.
Benjen didn't know whether to curse himself for his earlier words or appreciate himself for his caring ones. Even with his talent for reading people, he drew a complete blank when it came to Lyanna—and whatever went on in a woman's mind.
Maybe he should ask his father for advice about girls as well when he is going to ask for some training. After all, the man had successfully seduced hundreds of women, including a princess disguised as a bard. Benjen thought this as he watched the retreating back of his half-sister.
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Lyanna Mormont
She had been in an introspective mood ever since her talk with Benjen a few days ago. It had affected her more than she liked to admit—that it had taken her little brother to point out why she couldn't feel that anyone was deserving of her, or even attractive to her. She had been comparing everyone to her father, and naturally, everyone else seemed dull in comparison. She needed to think without measuring every man against him.
She was in Princess Gael's chambers, serving her guard duty—what sometimes felt like prison time. Gael was working through a stack of documents, and Lyanna could see how diligently she worked. Lyanna admired women who ruled through effort and competence; her own mother was much the same.
"You have been silent as of late, Lyanna," Gael finally said without looking up from the document. "Tell me what has happened for you to be so thoughtful."
Lyanna sighed, wondering how much she should say. Even if Gael was technically her stepmother, she had come to consider her a very good friend.
"It's nothing problematic, or relevant to courtly matters," Lyanna said at last. "My brother—Benjen—has had a crush on me ever since he reached puberty. He finally grew enough courage to admit it… and even tried to make a move."
Gael immediately stopped writing and looked at Lyanna. "I am assuming we are talking about the same Benjen that Daemon has made his personal minion." Gael said, scoffing slightly at the word minion.
Lyanna nodded, puzzled by Gael's sudden seriousness. She saw Gael hesitate, as if deciding how to phrase her thoughts.
"Lyanna, even if you love your half-brother very much, if he ever tries to be forceful with you, you must inform Daemon immediately," Gael said firmly.
Lyanna was so surprised she couldn't protest at once as Gael continued.
"Benjen is going to be in a high position, and with how much Daemon seems to trust him, if he is going to be a problem, we must handle it now rather than leave it for the future. I still don't see the point of giving such a position to one of his sons, either. It's like dangling something in front of them that they can never truly have, for no good reason."
Lyanna shook off her surprise and replied immediately. "No, Gael. What are you even talking about? I don't see anyone being able to have their way with me—let alone Benjen."
Gael sighed tiredly. "You misunderstood me, Lyanna. This isn't about your ability to handle the situation yourself. It's about the mindset of someone who might wish to harm others simply because he suddenly gained recognition and power."
"Oh," Lyanna said, finally understanding. Then she laughed softly.
"I get what you meant now. You don't have to worry about anything like that with Benjen. You misunderstood me when I said he made a move. I was teasing him, and he finally flirted back—trying to be all suave. He wasn't forceful at all. I assure you, Benjen is trustworthy and a good boy. In fact, I tease him in every spar, and even now he can barely look me in the eye when I do."
Gael remained silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, she nodded.
"Well, at least that explains why he didn't seem mesmerized by me at all," Gael said in exasperation. "The boy showed only respect and wariness. He must truly be thinking only of you to ignore even my beauty."
Lyanna laughed, the tension finally breaking. Then she suddenly stopped as a thought struck her.
"Wait a moment, Gael. Did you really distrust Benjen because he didn't admire your beauty or lust after you?" Lyanna asked in complete surprise.
Gael immediately tried to protest, but seeing the lack of acceptance in Lyanna's expression, she finally nodded—with a sly grin.
"Well, you can't exactly blame me, Lyanna. When a boy of fifteen doesn't admire you, it means he is either a sword swallower or someone who wants bigger things in front of him. Those with the power to rule, like us, should be exceptionally wary of people like that. For example, Daemon appeared entirely uninterested in Stark lordship or even the position of king. Why? Because he believed that in three decades he would get a golden opportunity to grasp it without much of a fight. Why shouldn't I be wary of the son of such a man—especially when I couldn't predict what Benjen wanted?"
Lyanna was struck silent by the blunt assessment, but she finally nodded.
"So," Gael continued, "I don't see why you seem so out of sorts just because a boy responded to you."
"Ah," Lyanna said tiredly. "The answer is the same as the earlier question. My father chose Benjen because he understands people easily and knows how to manage them. He has leadership potential while also being a good fighter. I asked him to read me, and he did it in such a way that even I didn't realize it until he pointed it out."
Lyanna then explained what had happened a few days earlier.
Gael processed it in silence for several minutes before finally replying. "At least I can't point fingers at you for comparing everyone to Daemon. Still, it's good that you realized this flaw in yourself so early—and that you haven't created any unnecessary messes while rejecting advances. What advice do you need from me?"
Lyanna hesitated for a moment before asking, "I'm confused about what to do. I thought I would only think about a man when I met someone like my father, but that isn't possible. The only boy that I am very friendly with and trust worthy at the same time is Benjen. Now I have been teasing Benjen so much and I too like him. Should I indulge him as I teased him, or should I remain platonic? Fortunately for me, I can indulge since I don't even have to marry even when I am Lady Mormont, I just need heirs and be discreet about it."
Gael grimaced at the question. "Lyanna, I really want to tell you to do what you want—but I can't, because Daemon will definitely say that to you. The answer is no. You shouldn't indulge Benjen at all."
She continued before Lyanna could respond. "Even if I wanted to disagree with Daemon, I'm certain he would allow you to claim a dragon the moment one becomes available. Ideally, you should be married into House Targaryen since you'll be a dragonrider—though I know it wouldn't happen without your consent. This alone is a major headache. Mormont isn't even a great house, nor a direct vassal like Velaryon."
Gael sighed. "Then there's the fact that Benjen seems very much in love with you. If you give someone like that hope and then withdraw it, there's a real chance of disaster—especially when he's set to rise to a powerful position in the future. It's better not to start anything unless you've thought through all the consequences."
Lyanna grimaced as she understood the weight of it.
"Well," she said finally with a defeated sigh, "it seems I have a lot of thinking to do. Now, that I am thinking about it, one of the reasons why ladies of House Mormont was allowed was because no one wanted a alliance with dissolute house at the end of the world. Then there is the constant raids from Ironborn and Wildlings that many times leave some child. That situation has entirely changed because of my father and his development of my home."
"Exactly as I said," Gael said with a nod, "think through consequences before deciding considering the changed circumstances too."
Lyanna nodded with a far away look and remained silent as Gael went back to her work.
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Aethan Reed
Aethan watched from the sidelines as every lord came before the Iron Throne, bent the knee to King Jaehaerys, and renewed their oaths to his heir, Daemon Targaryen. He looked at his brother in all but name, and for once Daemon wore the Stark mask rather than his perfected jovial one. Yet Aethan could still see the hidden mirth and excitement in Daemon's eyes—the look of a man thoroughly enjoying himself.
For the past moon, lords had been arriving in King's Landing, grumbling endlessly about constant travel while deep in their cups, yet never daring to utter a single complaint within the halls or courtyards of the Red Keep. Aethan had kept watch on the arriving lords as much as possible, though he knew his own network was nowhere near as extensive as Daemon's personal one. He could feel the presence of countless animals spread throughout King's Landing, already broken in for his use, and he had lost count after a hundred. For all the advantages animal spies provided, both Aethan and Daemon knew that human ones were superior when it came to understanding intent and context.
He saw a perfect example of this flaw as Lord Baratheon knelt and proclaimed his loyalty to his half-brother. The lord had been furious about the situation, and the conversation he had with his sister Jocelyn would have made that clear. Yet the rat Aethan had tasked with following Princess Rhaenys returned after she left her mother and uncle alone following a particularly heated discussion. At least Rhaenys had enough foresight to ensure her uncle did not let his fury loose. In truth, the only reason Baratheon had remained silent without complaint regarding his niece loosing the Iron Throne again, was that his most powerful vassal had been behind the assassination of Prince Aemon. The true event that made Rhaenys loose the Throne.
Similar conversations had taken place involving Lord Royce, the regent of House Arryn, Lady Arryn—who was only seven this year—and Viserys, all carefully ensuring that none of the Lord Paramounts did anything foolish. It took Aemma's reassurance that nothing could be done to finally prevent the young girl from saying something reckless.
Aethan knew today would be a hectic one for both himself and his available men. He intended to keep a close eye on every lord, watching to see whether being drunk out of their wits would loosen tongues after the announcement of Princess Gael's pregnancy, which would follow the swearing-in ceremony.
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The Next Day
Aethan found Daemon in the training yard early the next morning. Daemon was fighting—no, tormenting—Benjen, who looked as though he wanted to die, judging by the hangover written clearly across his face.
"Come on, Benjen. Power through adversity, my son," Daemon said in an exaggeratedly supportive, motivational tone. "I assure you, you get double benefits when you power through—especially when you're with me."
Aethan swallowed a yawn as he approached them from the sidelines.
"Daemon, stop torturing the poor kid and let him rest while we speak," Aethan said. "And no, I don't want to fight you in the open, you idiot," he added before Daemon could even ask. "I'm supposed to be the weak frog-eater. I don't want to give anyone any clue about my actual prowess."
Daemon sighed in disappointement before nodding.
"So, anything interesting happening at your end, my friend?"
"Nothing of note, Daemon. No one spoke of any dastardly plans, and every lord seems utterly charmed by Gael and her presence." Aethan replied. "The men believe you somehow corrupted a pure soul using your bastardly wiles, and now—after the first fight you two had about the White Harbor bastards—many are saying Gael is starting to see through your dark deeds. The Men compared her with The Maiden and now The Mother after the announcement of pregnancy yesterday."
Aethan delivered this with complete seriousness, even as he swallowed his laughter while watching Daemon's expression shift from exasperation, to irritation, to absolute horror.
"Damn it all," Daemon muttered with a sigh. "Pretty privilege truly is terrifying."
Aethan heard it clearly, and though it was the first time he'd heard the phrase, he grasped the meaning instantly.
"Well, you're only half right," Aethan continued. "Among the ladies and most women, the belief is that Gael is a cunning witch who seduced a powerful man capable of taming Cannibal, and that she is absolutely not your match. They think the witch is using you—and that you're finally waking up to her wiles because of the fight. I even heard that someone has even started a game of seducing you, since they apparently heard about some of your exploits with women. They all hope to replace Gael or even be a second Queen if possible."
Daemon, who had been irritated earlier, immediately winced.
"Yes, my dear friend," Aethan went on smoothly, "the nobles have officially accepted you into the game of thrones. Both you and Gael are now pieces—temptations to be seduced or manipulated for their benefit."
"I didn't foresee this happening so soon," Daemon admitted honestly, frowning. "I thought most would offer grudging acceptance, lip service at best, while staying neutral outwards at this point of time, while trying to give support to either Viserys or Rhaenys."
"Oh, Daemon," Aethan replied mockingly, his tone dry. "For that, you should have reduced your presence a little—especially how you kept blasting that calming aura while using your entire charisma these past few days when interacting with them. Also, you probably shouldn't have fought half-naked, wearing only short trousers, against so many men in the training ground, all while proving you're completely untouchable in battle."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry though. As far as I can see, no one is obsessively fixated on either of you yet. Still, every single one of them will eventually try to backstab you or use you to elevate themselves—quite possibly while lusting after you at the same time.
Daemon finally sighed and shrugged. "Ah, whatever. Let them come with seduction or harmful plans. Whatever it is, I can deal with it. Anything else of note?"
"The first set of books has arrived from the Citadel," Aethan said, a smirk forming on his face. "They're for the custody of King's Landing, sent from Oldtown. So where do you want them held, considering the construction of Daemonhold is still only in its initial stages?" Aethan finished with complete smirk enjoying Daemon's reaction.
Daemon immediately groaned in resignation and muttered a curse. "If I get my hands on whoever spread that name for the castle we're building on Visenya's Hill, I swear I'll make a special place for them in my memory. And then I'll make sure they—"
Aethan instantly swallowed his mirth and adopted a nonchalant expression, carefully hiding his emotions behind mental discipline. More than anyone else, Aethan knew how easily a warg or greenseer could pick up on emotional shifts during conversation—and how frighteningly good Daemon was at it.
Daemon continued cursing under his breath before finally asking, "And what about the first batch of Valyrian steel in the custody of the Citadel? Have they finally—wait." He stopped abruptly and scrutinized Aethan.
Aethan winced immediately, struggling to remain expressionless.
"Fuck you, Aethan. Fuck you," Daemon snapped, though he tried—and failed—to hide his exasperated smile. "It was you who named the castle Daemonhold and spread it far and wide. Why did you do that?"
Aethan relaxed his control and burst out laughing. "Well, I thought you'd love it. It satisfies your vanity and arrogance quite nicely."
Daemon glared at him, but Aethan merely continued smirking before adding, "Consider it payback for dragging me into this cesspit away from my sweet, peaceful home, Daemon."
Daemon's eyes widened in surprise before he snorted. "But I thought you breathed loyalty toward the Starks and that your entire life was dedicated to serving them."
"That is correct, my friend," Aethan replied with a shrug. "But you forgot one little detail—you are Daemon Targaryen, not a Stark."
Daemon sighed deeply. "That is just a technicality."
Aethan remained silent, wearing a proud smirk.
"Now, if the fun time is over, answer me, Aethan," Daemon said, waving a hand.
"Ah, well. Vaegon wrote that he has collected several Valyrian steel artifacts," Aethan replied. "Extracting the steel from chains will take time. He didn't send anything with this shipment because he's afraid he can't find anyone trustworthy—or even worthy—of carrying something like that across such a long distance."
Daemon frowned in thought. "Then I'll send Daemon or Aegon with their dragon. Benjen, make sure to remind me of that." Benjen, who had been half-asleep on the ground, suddenly jumped up at the sound of his name and nodded frantically.
Both Aethan and Daemon burst out laughing at that.
Aethan cleared his throat once the laughter subsided. "Have you found your Master of Construction and Master of War?"
"To my continuing frustration, I haven't found a competent engineer capable of designing what I want," Daemon replied with clear irritation. "I've stopped searching for one and instead decided to find someone who can follow orders and manage the actual construction efficiently. Benjen here is a good fit for that role—but I have higher hopes for him."
"So, in effect, you're the Master of Construction and simply delegating to others," Aethan said with a nod, then winced as a thought struck him, making him regret asking the question.
"Of course you're correct, my friend," Daemon replied with a grin. "Since you asked so nicely, I have a job for you, my advisor. The smell of King's Landing has been getting worse year by year, and we're nearing a point of no return. I don't want that."
He continued, "I've already ordered Viserys to fine anyone caught dumping waste in the streets. I've also assigned waste collection to beggars—better they do honest work than beg in my streets. Now I want to expand the sewage system and find a large area suitable for constructing a proper aqueduct. You will find such a place and design an improved sewage system."
Aethan looked horrified for a moment before his face went completely blank. "I have no idea how to design one. And what, exactly, is an aqueduct?"
Daemon looked surprised for an instant, then nodded to himself. "An aqueduct is, in effect, a massive bathing and washing system for the populace. As for the sewage design, you don't need to start from scratch. The existing system is decent—it just can't sustain the current population growth. You only need to identify the problem areas and figure out how to correct them."
Aethan finally nodded. "I'll do my best to find a workable solution."
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Author's Note: ah! For the past week I have been watching sitcom comedies a lot and it may have influenced my writing of this chapter. Can you see a classic sitcom trope used here that even I realized only when I was editing the chapter.
Rather than just plainly stating the plot points a chapter of character interaction.
Next chapter is one quarter finished and there would be short scene from a completely new place… also some more important reactions to the happenings in house targaryen from various kingdoms.
Time skip coming in chapter 57 probably as nothing interesting would be happening then in daemon's life. Just plain old boring ruling, constructions, training and other preparations.
update on 2-2-26: Back to schedule. Mother is fine as long as she has enough rest and regular compression dressing for the varicose vein ulcer. Thank you for all who wished for a quick recovery….
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