The next day, early morning.
Daeron headed to the treasury to withdraw the first set of expenses for his fief.
Just last night, he had learned the details of his fief through Tywin.
Two thousand square kilometers of royal demesne on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush.
The jurisdiction included the rivers and mountains within the territory, the beaches of the east coast, and a portion of the The Kingswood.
The area was quite staggering.
For those unsure of the specific location, it could be compared to King's Landing.
The Blackwater Rush was a deep and rapid torrent that connected to the outlet of Blackwater Bay.
King's Landing sat on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush, with the Mud Gate, one of The Seven city gates, serving as a world-renowned port.
The fief Daeron received was on the south bank, directly across the river.
It had always been royal demesne and had only been granted as a reward once in history.
Its previous owner was Daemon Blackfyre.
"A very fine fief."
Seated on horseback, Daeron turned his head to share his joy.
Ser Jon nodded slightly, appearing serious and unsmiling.
Before long, the iron gates of the treasury appeared.
An acquaintance was waiting on the road before the gates, followed by two guards, yet he trotted over without any regard for his image.
"Is that you, Lord Owen?" Daeron dismounted.
The newcomer was none other than Father Aerys's lackey, Owen Merryweather, whose life at court was not particularly pleasant.
This fellow only knew how to flatter and possessed not a shred of talent.
The deepest impression he left was likely his tendency to always laugh loudly to support Father Aerys, earning him the secret nickname of the 'Giggly Idiot'.
"Prince, I didn't expect you to be up so early."
Compared to Daeron's surprise, Count Owen was all smiles.
Without waiting for Daeron to speak, he thrust an exquisite fruit basket adorned with flowers into his arms.
"The King sent me to withdraw the funds for you. Since it wasn't specifically publicized to the outside world, I could only prepare a congratulatory gift privately."
Count Owen, fearing rejection, pushed his wares vigorously: "Look, Prince, these are all fruits and vegetables produced at the Merryweather Estate. I've selected a few of each for you."
Daeron lifted the thin gauze handkerchief covering the fruit basket, and a faint fruity fragrance wafted into his nose.
Inside, several kinds of fruits and vegetables were packed to the brim.
One red and one green apple, a bunch of plump Black Rose grapes, an orange, a cob of corn, a handful of wild berries, half a bunch of bananas... the portions weren't large, but the variety was excellent.
Daeron frowned slightly, looking at Count Owen's expectant eyes, unsure of what to say.
These were no ordinary fruits and vegetables; each one contained Life Force.
special crops were truly miraculous.
It could be an apple on a tree, a pumpkin in a farmer's field, or even a wild vegetable by the roadside.
All special crops shared one common trait: [Hidden].
Before being harvested, they were identical to ordinary crops and wild plants; even an old farmer who had worked for decades wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
But once harvested, they could be recognized at a glance.
Like lighting a bonfire in the dark, as long as one wasn't blind, they would absolutely not be ignored.
A powerful knight who ate them had a chance to master the use of Life Force, while ordinary people could maintain their health through long-term consumption.
Because of this, the prices were outrageously expensive.
"This is too precious." Daeron sighed softly, intending to politely decline.
According to type and nutritional value, special crops were also divided into qualities.
From Common, Silver Star, to Gold Star—high, middle, and low grades.
Silver Star quality was already very precious, and Gold Star was something that could be sought but not easily found.
Among the produce in this basket, just the Silver Star quality included two apples and a cob of corn, with an estimated price exceeding three hundred Golden Dragons.
Count Owen hurriedly said, "Prince, you should know my family's words."
As he spoke, he puffed out his chest, revealing the family crest he wore: "A golden horn of plenty overflowing with fruit and delicacies on a white field."
House Merryweather was an ancient noble house from the Reach with noble blood.
Their words were: "Behold Our Bounty!"
Count Owen chuckled and took a bottle of warm milk from his robes, saying, "Prince, you probably haven't had breakfast yet. Drink some milk to warm your stomach."
"..."
Taking the transparent glass bottle filled with milk, Daeron found that this bottle of milk also contained a faint Life Force.
"Truly a wealthy house!" Daeron couldn't help but admire.
Count Owen took great pride in this and said, "The Seven favor us. Just like my family's crest and words, the output of special crops in our territory is far more abundant than that of other houses."
"Take this bottle of milk, for instance. It comes from a cow that accidentally ate a special crop; she can produce one bottle's worth every day."
Other crops were one thing—the portion kept for training knights could be consumed within the family.
But a cow that could stably produce milk containing Life Force could bring in a steady stream of wealth.
Many Reach nobles were willing to pay high prices to order this milk for their children.
Since it had come to this, it would be impolite to refuse again.
Daeron accepted the other's kindness, nodding slightly in thanks, and said sincerely, "Lord Owen, you have a heart of gold."
To be honest, the other man was the first noble to openly invest in him.
And it was so blatant, with no intention of concealment.
If he didn't accept the other's kindness, he believed those who favored Rhaegar would not remain silent and would surely squeeze him out of the court.
His mentor Tywin had once taught him.
"When someone rises to challenge you, you should resolutely respond with iron and fire; when they bend the knee in submission, you must personally help them up, or else no one will be willing to submit again."
The same logic applied to different situations.
Daeron would not be so arrogant as to refuse and insult a noble lord who was showing him goodwill.
Coincidentally, he had never tasted dairy products from a special animal, so he opened the bottle and took a sip.
As the milk went down his throat, a faint warm current gradually emerged in his lower abdomen, and his body became warm and cozy.
Daeron's heart stirred, but he didn't show any emotion, simply appraising, "A bottle of milk has roughly the potency of a common quality special crop. Very good."
"Haha, you flatter me."
Receiving affirmation and praise, Count Owen's face lit up with joy.
Without any tedious formalities, he immediately withdrew five hundred Golden Dragons and handed them to Daeron.
"Then we shall set out, My Lord."
Daeron finished the milk, handed the medium-sized wooden box filled with Golden Dragons to Ser Jon, and pulled the reins to mount his horse.
Having witnessed the value of special crops once again, he was already impatient to rush to his fief.
However, the goal was not the fief itself, but to select a piece of land suitable for a farm.
As for the startup capital, five hundred Golden Dragons were enough.
Currency conversion: 1 Golden Dragon = 210 silver stags, 1 silver stag = 56 Copper Stars, 1 Copper Star = 8 Copper Pennies.
Nobles usually used Golden Dragons, while knights and commoners mostly used the latter three.
According to current prices, 1 copper pennies could buy a grilled sausage and a large mug of ale; 1 silver stag could order mutton, pork, several stews, plus several large mugs of ale at an inn, and the shopkeeper would still have to give you a large handful of Copper Pennies in change.
A suit of armor, including high-quality chainmail, a gorget, greaves, and a full helm, cost about 4 Golden Dragons.
A swift horse of superior breed was even cheaper.
The purchasing power was quite staggering.
It was far from the inflation of a certain Stag dynasty in later generations, where 1 Golden Dragon couldn't buy mutton and 1 silver stag could only be exchanged for a pumpkin.
That's right, I'm talking about you, Robert Baratheon.
Daeron, in high spirits, spurred his horse and charged out.