"Under your leadership?"
The corners of Daeron's mouth curled up as he struggled to suppress a smile.
If this war were left to you to fight, I would be worried to death.
Duke Mace had a thick skin and a mind full of schemes. While elevating himself, he did not forget to praise Daeron, deliberately saying in a loud voice, "The Battle of Summer Hall was all thanks to your strategic planning, Prince, and your mastery of the dragon on the battlefield. Only then could we achieve the exemplary record of two victories in a single day."
The noble lords of The Reach knew the true measure of their liege lord, but none were foolish enough to expose him to his face.
Furthermore, Randyll was arrogant by nature, with a personality as foul as it was stubborn, and he was not popular.
Stepping on him to elevate the Prince and their liege lord was a scene they were happy to witness.
Immediately, cheers erupted within the pavilion, vividly embodying the extravagant style unique to The Reach.
"No wonder The Reach possesses the largest and most fertile lands in the Seven Kingdoms, yet has never produced a legendary figure."
Daeron smiled without speaking, taking in all their various thoughts.
It could be summarized in one sentence: the liege lord envied talent and ability, while the vassals were content to enjoy the fruits of others' labor.
Those with merit and ability instead became targets of mutual hostility and suppression from both sides.
"Lord Puffish, the famous generals and talents you look down upon, I shall take into my own pocket."
Daeron's smile deepened as he took the wine glass offered to him and joined the celebration of the lords of The Reach.
Randyll had merit, and indeed, the greatest merit of this battle.
But he would not stand up at a time like this to contradict Duke Mace and fight for Randyll's credit.
That is not how a commander acts.
Perhaps in Randyll's eyes, Duke Mace was greedy and stupid, a bad boss who exploited his employees' performance.
But from Daeron's perspective, Duke Mace had joined the group with capital—the largest capital on the continent of Westeros.
As long as it wasn't defying royal orders or rebelling, making a few mistakes was within the allowable range.
After all, that was an army of seventy thousand well-equipped soldiers from The Reach, capable of directly influencing the outcome of the war.
In the original story, during the final battle at the Ruby Ford, the Royalists led by Rhaegar numbered only 40,000 to 50,000, and the rebel forces from the four regions led by Robert combined were less than 40,000.
A key factor in Daeron's confidence in suppressing the rebellion was securing the funding and support of the House Tyrell of Highgarden.
One shouldn't say it's only natural for vassals to serve their liege lord, or that the House Tyrell, having been elevated by the Conqueror himself, should be eternally grateful.
If the world worked that way, the Tully family of Riverrun should not have rebelled.
In the original story, Duke Mace should not have sidelined Randyll after the Battle of Ashford and led his army to besiege Storm's End until the end of the war.
Daeron was very clear on one point.
The House Tyrell supported the Iron Throne, but the manner and attitude of that support could vary vastly.
If it were his father Aerys's call, Duke Mace might only gather 40,000 or 50,000 troops from The Reach, fight one hard battle to prove he wasn't slacking, and then gracefully disappear, following the original plot.
If his elder brother Rhaegar personally recruited them, they might gather 50,000 or 60,000 troops, fight a hard battle, then pacify Stormlands, and then start bargaining.
You couldn't expect the Tyrells of Highgarden, or even the entire nobility of The Reach, to be like reckless fools who disregarded the cost.
They responded to the Iron Throne's call; the soldiers were trained by their families, and the provisions were supplied by their families, without drawing a single copper star from the national treasury.
Without benefits, why should they give their all?
Therefore, Daeron personally went south to The Reach to negotiate with Olenna, the "Queen of Thorns," to secure the maximum support from the Tyrells of Highgarden.
A full seventy thousand soldiers!
And it was seventy thousand soldiers who would follow Daeron through the War of the Usurper from beginning to end.
For this kind of unconditional support, Daeron inevitably had to promise benefits and also coax the less-than-wise Duke Mace.
To be honest, Duke Mace wasn't a bad person.
He was foolish but wealthy, and timid and fearful of trouble.
Daeron didn't even need to use many tactics; Mace hypnotized himself into being a loyal minister of the royal family.
However, he wouldn't let go of a famous general like Randyll Tarly either.
"Prince, you are truly wise and martial."
Duke Mace beamed with joy. If he hadn't been afraid of offending Daeron, he would have started singing and dancing.
Daeron put an arm around his shoulders, pressed a full glass of red wine to his lips, and poured it in without a word, laughing loudly, "My Lord, a toast to you!"
Duke Mace couldn't refuse. He closed his eyes and gulped it down. When he opened them again, his gaze was already blurred.
"Prince, *hic*—"
Before he could speak, a wine burp escaped first.
Daeron laughed, handed him over to Count Mathis, exchanged a few pleasantries, and walked toward a corner of the pavilion.
At this time, Randyll was frowning, looking completely out of place in the festive atmosphere.
"Not going to have a drink?"
Daeron struck up a conversation on purpose.
Randyll looked down on the others and said flatly, "I am a soldier; I must maintain a clear head."
Good self-discipline.
Daeron poured a glass of wine for Randyll, pushed it in front of him, and said with a gentle smile, "The House Targaryen will not forget those who have served with merit."
With that, his hand left the glass, and he turned to walk away.
True consolation only requires a few words.
Randyll looked puzzled. He stared down at the glass where the wine was swaying, a complex mix of emotions surfacing in his heart.
Daeron walked back into the crowd and found Davos, who was socialising effortlessly.
"Take this to Randyll. As for exactly what to say, I'll leave that to your performance."
With his back to the crowd, Daeron took out two pieces of gold star cheese and a bottle of Life Potion.
Life Potion: "Restores a large amount of health."
The crafting recipe was automatically unlocked after reaching Combat Level 2.
The recipe required one Red Mushroom, one Purple Mushroom, one Morel, and one Chanterelle.
After the Tourney at Harrenhal.
Daeron had crafted a large number of mushroom logs and placed them in the woods of oak, maple, and pine trees planted in advance at Dragon Language Farm. Every four days, different types of mushrooms would be produced.
Limited by the rarity of Purple Mushrooms, the output of other mushrooms was also not high.
Before the war started, Daeron had only crafted over forty bottles of Life Potion, barely enough.
"Prince, what is this?"
Davos held the red, round-bellied bottle of Life Potion; it was his first time seeing it too.
Daeron told him honestly, "Life Potion. It can heal injuries. For most non-fatal wounds, drinking it will have some effect."
In reality, the effect of the Life Potion was very powerful.
Unless it was a head or internal organ injury, or poisoning.
For things like broken limbs, skin burns, or infected and festering wounds, drinking the Life Potion could stabilize one's condition, allowing for a recovery of varying speeds.
In the relatively backward medical state of Westeros, it was already comparable to a supreme divine medicine.
"Leave it to me, Prince."
Davos took the order. Negotiation and social interaction were what he was best at.
Randyll held that glass of wine, still staring blankly.
He was pondering the meaning behind Daeron's words.
Not forgetting his merit—did that mean he would be given rewards or formal recognition?
Given the current situation, the royal family still needed the House Tyrell's efforts, so he estimated the rewards would come after the war.
Rewards were fine.
For a noble, practical interests were far more reliable than honor.
Randyll raised the wine glass, wanting to drain it in one gulp, but felt it wouldn't be satisfying.
At that moment, someone approached from behind.
Davos was no longer a lowly smuggler; his bearing was composed and his manner natural as he placed the items the Prince had given him in front of Randyll.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Randyll's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, locked directly onto Davos.
Davos said, "The Prince asked me to give these to you, Lord Randyll."
"Prince Daeron?"
Randyll withdrew his gaze but remained wary.
Davos knew well the complexity of human nature; with someone like Randyll, the more you said, the more mistakes you made. He stated directly, "The Prince holds you in high regard. These things can heal your injuries. When the rebellion is suppressed, he will surely reward you handsomely."
He paused and pointed at the Life Potion. "Drink this first; the effect is good."
The message was delivered, and the items were handed over.
Davos nodded to Randyll and blended back into the crowd.
Randyll: ————
Like master, like servant; they both left after saying only a couple of sentences.
"Products made from special crops?"
Randyll examined the Life Potion and the gold star cheese. Even with his unflinching, cold heart, he felt a slightly different sensation.
special crops were extremely scarce.
In the fertile Reach, the yield of special crops was slightly higher, but the competition among nobles was also more intense.
Randyll had once bought some special crops at a high price and quickly mastered Life Force.
After that, he no longer spent money on them.
Firstly, Horn Hill was located in Dornish Marches and was not that wealthy.
Secondly, any money he had was invested into military supplies rather than buying special crops in an attempt to increase that tiny bit of total Life Force.
Randyll was like a determined, poor warrior, preferring day after day of diligent practice to improve his skills.
"Life Potion... something made by people like Forest Witches or pyromancers?"
Randyll picked up the Life Potion, remembering that Daeron had once put up a large number of special crops for auction, and the Tarly Family had even bought one.
As expected, a Targaryen who could hatch dragons was indeed extraordinary.
It was said that the dragonlords of Old Valyria were all top-tier wizards with miraculous means.
Randyll, fearless, opened the cap of the red bottle and drained the Life Potion in one gulp.
In an instant, a warm current spread through his entire body, especially in his arms, which had suffered slight fractures and torn flesh from his clash with Robert; they even felt a slight heat.
This feeling was completely different from eating special crops.
When special crops were eaten, there would be a faint warm current in the abdomen, which then spread throughout the body.
The Life Potion acted directly on the whole body and focused on the injured areas, accelerating wound healing and relieving pain.
"Truly miraculous."
Randyll put away the two pieces of gold star cheese, picked up his red wine again, and began to sip it gently.
Dorne's summer red, a world-famous strong wine.
It has quite a kick!
Fallwood.
The army of The Reach moved north and was stationed at Fallwood, the seat of House Fell.
Inside the hall.
Randyll said in a deep voice, "Robert has fled to the Riverlands. Stormlands rebel army he organized has dispersed and is currently scattered around Summerhall and The Kingswood."
"The number of scattered troops is in the thousands, and there is a trend of them regrouping."
Randyll spread out a map of Stormlands, pointed to three locations, and made deployments. "Daeron will lead the assault on Storm's End to cut off the last hope of Stormlands. I will attack Bronzegate to open up the route of the Kingsroad."
"Finally, Duke Mace will lead the troops to sweep the rebel forces in The Kingswood area to ensure that the army's supplies will not be interfered with."
He laid out the deployment very clearly, like weaving a large net to ensnare the entire Stormlands.
Duke Mace knitted his brows, seemingly having something to say.
"Lord Randyll, why don't Duke Mace and I switch?"
Daeron spoke first, making adjustments to the nearly perfect deployment.
"Duke Mace will lead the main army to besiege Storm's End, while I, with the advantage of the dragon, will quickly sweep the rebels in The Kingswood."
Hearing this, Randyll frowned.
Daeron put his arm around Duke Mace's shoulder and praised, "Duke Mace has great merit in logistics and coordination. With tens of thousands of troops besieging Storm's End, the garrison will surely be frightened into surrendering at the mere sight of us."
"Exactly!"
Duke Mace was incredibly excited. He hadn't expected the Prince to hold him in such high regard. He beat his chest and guaranteed, "Give me one month, and I will surely capture Storm's End."
"One month?" Daeron repeated.
Duke Mace puffed out his large belly and said proudly, "Just one month. If it's a day late, you may hold me fully accountable."
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