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Viserys and The Red Viper walked together towards the wooden platform next to the training grounds. This temporary platform was for the adults to watch the knights' duels.
On top of the platform, various banners were erected: the three-headed red dragon of the Targaryen Family, the seven-pointed star of the Andal tradition, and the great river banner of the rhoynar.
"What's your grudge with old Yronwood?" Viserys looked at The Red Viper, still feeling a bit curious. This was the taste of gossip.
Although The Red Viper was a bit ruthless in his actions, he wasn't brainless, so it might not have been just a simple mistress issue.
"Your Majesty must also know the name of House Yronwood," The Red Viper said.
This was a bit of a joke; Yronwood was, after all, one of the top twenty great lords. Viserys was also well-versed in noble genealogies and heraldry.
"Guardian of the Stone Way, Blood of Nobility, Lord of the Green Hills," Viserys said. "Each nickname is renowned. It is said that House Yronwood has always been one of the strongest and wealthiest vassals under House Martell of Sunspear, and some Yronwood lords have even entertained the thought of replacing them."
Aside from lacking a coastline, House Yronwood's territory was almost perfect. They occupied prime locations in the valleys near the Stone Way and the Green Hills.
The mountains provided natural defenses for these fertile lands, and their territory also contained various mineral deposits and timber.
Considering the poor land of Dorne, Yronwood was practically holding a golden rice bowl.
Unfortunately, the local faction was no match for the newcomers. The rhoynar' army armed the originally weak coastal minor House Martell, allowing House Martell to rise like a balloon, and House Yronwood was not entirely convinced.
The Lord of the Stone Way did not rebel during the Conquest or the invasion of the Young Dragon, but later joined the "Bittersteel" side three times, participating in the Blackfyre Rebellions.
"It is precisely because of Yronwood's unique and excellent fiefdom in Dorne that they have the ability to stir up trouble. They are wealthy and have fought alongside the Blackfyres and the Bittersteel three times, to reclaim the throne," The Red Viper confessed. "And I just happened to know that the old man Edgar did not respect Doran; on the contrary, he intended to provoke our relationship."
"Edgar was a big man, known for his temper and impatience, so everything fell into place naturally."
From this perspective, it didn't matter whether he poisoned him or not; Edgar died in the duel anyway.
Viserys thought this was normal; after all, with Doran's melancholic face and sentimental personality, he was destined not to be as popular as the more Dornish The Red Viper.
Yronwood got involved in other people's family affairs, but House Martell was still very united internally.
"But you caused the death of old Yronwood, and Prince Doran sent his own son, Quentyn," Viserys said.
"I didn't consider the aftermath that much at the time; I was just thinking about my own satisfaction. But Quentyn is a good boy; he understands family and responsibility. He thinks too little, and Arianne thinks too much," The Red Viper confessed.
Viserys was quite speechless. Quentyn was quite earnest, just a bit unlucky.
House Martell used Quentyn as a tool, no wonder this short and ugly child eventually went all in.
"When I was young, I was a monster; I really should have cut out my venomous tongue," Prince Oberyn said, taking a drink. "At that time, I was too clever and too arrogant, and now I often regret it."
Character determines destiny. The Red Viper's foul mouth and fiery temper certainly attracted a lot of hatred.
Viserys drank his lemonade, feeling that The Red Viper didn't regret killing old Yronwood at all, but rather regretted that his mouth had ruined the potential marriage between his sister and "Laughing Baelor" of House Hightower.
"So I always regret it. After all, I am a Dornishman; emotion often triumphs over reason. So now I generally follow Doran's arrangements. However, everyone is human after all; even Doran, amidst all his rationality, was swayed by desire in marriage."
"How many lives have passed," Viserys said. "Remembering the past is a sign of old age."
"Yes," The Red Viper agreed. "I regret Elia's choice; the rest of my life is spent seeking justice."
"Justice." Viserys remembered this word. Justice could only be achieved after victory.
King's Landing, Red Keep, the private reception room of the Hand's Tower.
The private reception room in the tower was much smaller than the king's, with Myr carpets, wall hangings, and golden bay windows, giving it a certain private ambiance.
Master of Whisperers Varys looked at the old man Jon Arryn in front of him. While Robert Baratheon was a hands-off ruler, only the Hand was holding things together.
In his youth, Jon Arryn was very handsome, with blue eyes, golden hair, and an aquiline nose.
But time had taken away the old man's handsomeness; he had already lost half his teeth when he married Lysa Tully.
However, physically, he was still quite robust.
Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, there was no great lord of such an advanced age... Even Tywin and the Queen of Thorns could only be considered juniors in front of him.
"Is the intelligence you reported accurate?" Old Hand Jon asked seriously.
"Oh, you doubt my sincerity, Lord Hand," Varys said, covering his mouth and feigning distress.
Varys was wearing purple velvet clothes, soft-soled slippers, and had a sweet, powdery scent about him.
"Is that King of Andalusia truly an orphan of the Targaryen Dynasty?" the old Hand asked.
"My little birds tell me the information is accurate. Many merchant ships have heard of Viserys's reputation in Braavos. After earning gold, he took over a piece of land in Andalusia and rapidly expanded his army like a balloon."
"This is truly..." Jon Arryn rubbed his throbbing brow. How many years had it been? That profligate prince of yesteryear actually had a chance to make a comeback.
"Lord Hand, I am very worried about you," Varys said. "After all, it was you who advocated against sending assassins after the children, which went against the wishes of King Robert and Lord Tywin."
"Let's not dwell on the past. Harming children is not the way of knights and honor," Hand Jon said sternly. "Since Robert could defeat Rhaegar once, he can defeat his brother a second time."
"You are right, Lord Hand. As long as King Robert has his warhammer, he is invincible," Varys said with a grin.
"Even so, the treasury..."
"The treasury's money is being spent too quickly. The rebuilding of the Royal Fleet, the king's wedding, the tourneys, the money for hunting and entertainment, you know. If a large army is to be assembled again... the money..." Varys said hesitantly.
"Money depreciates significantly before the throne. Lord Tywin has money. If it truly comes to that, I will write to him," Jon said.
Jon Arryn and Tywin's relationship was somewhat subtle. Tywin was younger, but he had already served as Hand for one or two decades.
If Tywin were to come to King's Landing, with his arrogance, he would never accept a position other than Hand, but Robert would never trust him.
This was another instance of making connections, compromises, and alliances. Jon hated it, but there was no other way.
Just as he arranged Robert's marriage, he had to play matchmaker again.
Jon felt he was the Hand, but more like a mending seamstress and a plasterer.
Because the Baratheon Dynasty lacked absolute military suppression, compromise was an indispensable step.
"A wise move," Varys praised. "Duke Tywin will surely be happy to solidify his grandson's claim to inheritance. Everyone knows that lions and dragons are mortal enemies."
"Remember to inquire about the intelligence," the old Hand reminded him. "I will speak with the King again."
"Alright, Lord Hand. I see the King is already furious, ready to take to the field at any moment. However, as far as I know, it would be more cost-effective to spend a few coins to hire some assassins."
"Assassins... this..." Jon closed his eyes. This suggestion was also dishonorable. But with Robert's personality, he would never wait. He could only talk to him again.
"My lord, there is one more thing," Varys said. "Now that the remnants of the evil dragon are rising again, King's Landing is where the remnants of the former dynasty reside. In my opinion, for your safety, should someone be specifically assigned to test your food?"
"That is what beasts would do, Varys," Hand Jon warned.
"You truly are a man of honor..." Varys praised, bowing his head, but in his heart, he mocked Jon's pedantry.
"You may go," Hand Jon dismissed him.
"Now, now is not the time. Aegon is too young." Varys turned and left, already having his own plans. Varys was a professional triple agent.
He would delay the Red Keep's actions, let the Baratheons choose assassins, but he would find a way to inform Viserys.
Especially a cross-sea army; that couldn't be planned in just a year or two.
This back and forth would buy Viserys time.
"Jon, Jon!" Lysa Arryn's voice rang out again, and the Hand's young wife rushed into the room.
Her body was bloated and flabby, and her pale cheeks were powdered.
In her youth, Lysa was a pretty, slender, busty girl, delicate and shy. After marrying Jon Arryn and experiencing multiple miscarriages, her figure had begun to gain weight.
"What's wrong, Lysa?" Jon asked with a gentle gaze. There was no love in their marriage, but for honor, Hand Jon still treated his young wife kindly.
"I want you to come with me to the Great Sept of Baelor and sincerely pray to the Mother," Lysa pleaded.
"I will, Lysa, but there are other matters now."
"Alright then," Lysa said, a bit unwillingly.
"I was thinking, Lysa, perhaps just a suggestion. If the time were more ripe, I would consider bringing Harrold to my side as a Squire, or sending him to the Gates of the Moon to familiarize himself with everything there first," Jon Arryn asked cautiously.
"Are you saying I won't have any more children?" a flushed Lysa Arryn yelled furiously, raising her fist. "No, I am still young, and I don't want someone else's child to be your heir."
The Defender of the Gates of the Moon was usually the position of the heir to the Vale. Even if Lysa was a fool, she knew its importance, and she would never allow it.
"Please, my lord, we will surely have our own child," Lysa knelt on the floor, grasping Jon's hand.
Although she disliked his old face, everything was for power, for future power.
She had to find a way to have a child, and then she could enjoy authority and see her beloved Petyr more often.
A Duchess without a child, if that Harrold were to come to The Eyrie in the future, how miserable her fate would be.
"Alright, alright, you go out first. I still have other matters to attend to..." Jon Arryn waved his hand helplessly.
The matter of Harrold was dropped. Whenever it was brought up, Lysa would go crazy.
The aged Jon Arryn slumped alone in his chair, feeling a pang of loneliness.
He had never loved Lysa, but he had to accept the terms of this alliance and treat Lysa with honor.
Having a child would be best, but unfortunately, they had none.
"Everything I do is for Robert. He is the King, and he is the child I love," Jon thought.
And the other child, Eddard Stark, was still far away in the North.
They were great lords, but back then, they were all young orphans.
Robert had always been like a big child, loving amusement more than the crown. He was always keen on sensual pleasures, fighting, thrill, finding women, spending money, and enjoying good food.
Sometimes Jon also wanted to throw off the burden of being Hand of the King. It was too tiring, too vexing.
A seventy-year-old man, completely burning himself out.
The mountain-ringed Vale was home.
Many became Hand to wield power and enrich themselves, but he was a diligent old horse and a plasterer.
"No, I cannot abandon Robert," Jon told himself. No matter what lifestyle Robert chose, being Hand of the King was his honor and his shackles.
"High as Honor." Jon remembered the past. House Baratheon had sent the orphaned Robert to The Eyrie to learn governance. From that day, Jon had treated him as his own son.
Unfortunately, Robert and Eddard didn't see each other often; one was lost in wine and women, the other in the cold North.
Many of the young heirs he loved had passed away.
His brother Ronnel, who died of a stomach illness; his nephew Elbert Arryn, killed by the The Mad King; Denys Arryn, who died on the battlefield.
A long life brought long loneliness. Those who surrounded him, Varys, Littlefinger, he could not feel their hearts.
"Jonnel, Rhaella, if you and I had a child, how sweet it would be," Jon Arryn murmured, stroking his aged cheek.
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