Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 150: The Faith of the Seven’s Small Actions

“It’s only natural that we must draw in allies before the war,” Rhaegar said, unfazed by the news.

Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed as she added mysteriously, “I’ve heard some new information: Otto is returning to King’s Landing.”

“This was already known,” Rhaegar replied, puzzled.

“No, there’s more. Besides Otto, the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven will be accompanying him,” Rhaenyra said seriously.

“There are more and more followers of the Seven Gods in Flea Bottom. Rumors about the war are spreading, and the people are beginning to show signs of rejecting House Velaryon.”

“Otto’s alliance with the Faith is to incite the people?” Rhaegar frowned, dismissing the tactic as a minor annoyance.

“I have to admit, it’s a clever move,” Rhaenyra said, annoyed. “The Faith of the Seven have always been adept at causing trouble for the royal family. Public opinion can be extremely influential.”

“It’s fine, I’ll shut them up,” Rhaegar said after a moment of thought, deciding how to handle the matter. With war approaching, he needed to ensure stability within the realm and prevent anyone from undermining their efforts.

Rhaegar set the heavy sword aside and stood up. “I’m going out. You should rest.”

“Where are you going?” Rhaenyra asked, surprised.

“To find a good helper,” Rhaegar replied, leaving the room with Erryk, who had been guarding the door.

…

Inside the banquet hall, the nobles were singing and dancing, each seeking a partner to dance with.

In stark contrast, the dungeon of the Red Keep was dark and damp, with creepy crawlies everywhere.

“Prince, you don’t need to come in person,” Erryk, dressed in black, advised as he followed Rhaegar into the dungeon.

Rhaegar, also dressed in black robes, surveyed the dungeon environment himself, walking deeper into its depths. Erryk sent the guards away and hurriedly followed him.

Before long, they arrived at the far end of the dungeon.

The sound of chains clinking echoed through the narrow, dark corridors.

Rhaegar approached a single cell, peering inside.

“Prince, I didn’t expect you to come and see me in person,” Syrio said, surprised to see Rhaegar.

Syrio had assumed the prince didn’t care if he lived or died. Though Rhaegar would occasionally take him out for training, he was usually locked up without a second thought.

Rhaegar glanced around the cell, noting its relative comfort. It was dry, clean, and had a mattress—far better than the public cells.

Syrio looked as he always did, with his fluffy brown curls, unkempt stubble, and a perpetual smile.

“It’s time to redeem yourself for your past mistakes. I’m going to let you out,” Rhaegar said with a smile.

“Oh? And what do you have in mind for me?” Syrio asked, intrigued.

After years in the dungeon, he was eager for a change.

“I want you to form an intelligence organization and train some killers,” Rhaegar said bluntly.

Syrio, hailing from Braavos and known for his water dancing, was accustomed to fighting and assassination. Rhaegar intended to use those skills.

“Thank you for your trust. I won’t let you down,” Syrio replied decisively, holding out his shackled hands.

Rhaegar signaled to Erryk, who stepped forward to unlock the chains with a key he had prepared in advance.

As this was happening, Rhaegar turned and spotted another familiar face in the corner of the dungeon.

“Uncle, how are you holding up?” he asked.

In another single cell, Daemon lay on his bed, shackled hand and foot.

Rhaegar glanced around Daemon’s cell, noting a chair, a toilet, and heavy bedding—special provisions.

Daemon rolled over, turning his back to Rhaegar, and remained silent.

On the first day of his imprisonment, his brother Viserys had visited, berating and degrading him, almost to the point of execution. Since then, he had been left to rot.

“Never mind, you clearly don’t want to see me,” Rhaegar said.

With Syrio freed, Rhaegar decided not to press Daemon further and led the way out of the dungeon. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

After dropping Syrio off at the Dragonpit, Rhaegar returned to his room. When he pushed open the door, the candles had long been extinguished.

After a busy day, he felt the weight of exhaustion. He took off his shirt and slipped into bed. The quilt was warm, and he leaned into the fragrant softness, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

…

The next day, early in the morning.

Cole knocked on Rhaegar’s door to let him know that the king had called a royal meeting.

Rhaegar, still sleepy-eyed, hurriedly ate a quick breakfast before heading to the meeting.

“Keep your collar neat. Today’s meeting is important,” Rhaenyra said, adjusting his wrinkled attire with a worried look.

Rhaegar let her fuss over him while he silently chewed his bread.

“You should be thanking me,” Rhaenyra muttered in exasperation, rolling her eyes.

Although she was enjoying herself, this was supposed to be Alicent’s duty.

When they arrived at the entrance to the council chambers, they could hear Tyland’s voice through the thick wooden door.

“Your Grace, the Stepstones is a land of constant conflict. The money spent on warring, building fortresses, and maintaining them will be astronomical.”

The two siblings exchanged a glance, sharing a look of helplessness.

In addition to the bravery of soldiers, the most important aspect of war is logistics and provisions. Once the war started, money would be spent like water.

“Prince, Princess,” Ser Steffon, the Kingsguard guarding the doorway, greeted them and personally pushed open the wooden door.

The meeting suddenly came to a halt.

Rhaegar walked into the hall and took a look around.

As usual, the former advisers to the realm and his father, Viserys, were there. Rhaegar took note of the three new chairs at the table.

Besides the one he had secured for Rhaenyra, the remaining two were presumably for the Sea Snake and his wife.

Taking his seat, Rhaegar looked at Tyland, who was standing in front of the table, and asked, “Did I arrive before Lord Corlys?”

“The Kingsguard just went to call him. He is on his way,” Tyland answered honestly.

Rhaegar didn’t mind. Last night’s banquet had lasted very late, making it understandably difficult for the elderly to get up early.

“While Lord Corlys is not here yet, we should address any urgent matters,” Rhaegar suggested, thinking of the impact of the war and deciding to discuss it first.

He picked up a stone ball and played with it in his hand.

“Prince, this is my estimated war damage report,” Tyland said, handing over a prepared list.

Rhaegar accepted it politely.

Viserys, looking weary and in poor spirits, leaned back in his chair. “Lord Lyonel, you go first,” he said, unable to sleep at night with the thought of the impending war.

Lyonel stood up and began his analysis. “Your Grace, in the face of the Three Daughters’ advance, we should mobilize as many of the kingdom’s lords as possible to support our troops.”

“The Stormlands are the closest to the Stepstones Islands. Lord Baratheon will definitely give his full support,” Lyonel continued.

“Boremund is Rhaenys’s uncle, and he has always been a staunch supporter of the Crown,” Viserys agreed.

“In addition, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Westerlands will all be able to mobilize soldiers to supplement our strength,” Lyonel suggested.