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The King's Solar, Maegor's Holdfast.
The morning of the Small Council meeting.
King Viserys I sat at the head of the long table, the weight of the realm resting on his frail shoulders.
Aemond stood a step away from his father's side, his gaze calmly scanning the faces along both sides of the table.
These men were the core currently maintaining the operation of the Seven Kingdoms.
Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, sat in the first seat at the King's left hand.
Master of Coin, Lyman Beesbury, sat opposite Otto.
This old man in his fifties came from House Beesbury of the Reach, a staunch traditionalist.
Master of Laws, Jasper Wylde, known as "Ironrod", sat next to Lyman.
Master of Whispers, Larys Strong, sat in the middle of the long table.
Known as "The Clubfoot," he leisurely sipped the fine wine in his cup.
But as Aemond's gaze swept over him, Larys slightly raised his eyelids to meet the Prince's eyes, a polite, knowing smile on his lips.
Aemond looked at the Clubfoot, sneering inwardly.
'Lord Larys Strong of Harrenhal.'
A year ago, his father, Lord Lyonel Strong, was Hand of the King. His older brother, Harwin Strong, was Princess Rhaenyra's lover and the true father of her three brown-haired sons.
The Strongs were pillars of the Black faction.
But a sudden fire consumed Harrenhal, claiming the lives of both Lyonel and Harwin.
The second son, Larys, inherited the title. And soon, promoted by Otto Hightower, he entered the council.
'Ruthless enough,' Aemond thought.
'Killed his own kin to clear the board.'
Now the Strongs belonged to the Greens.
Master of Ships, Tyland Lannister, sat opposite Larys.
But more than half of the Royal Navy under him had been won over by the Sea Snake, Corlys Velaryon.
He was a Master of Ships whose power had been hollowed out.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole, stood sentinel by the door.
Grand Maester Mellos sat at the end of the table, scrolls piled before him.
"Let us begin," Viserys broke the silence.
Hand Otto spoke first. "Your Grace, first regarding the cultivation of the Crownlands..."
The meeting progressed in a dull manner. Taxes, grain reserves, road repairs, disputes among the lords, and trivial and complex government affairs surged toward the council like an endless tide.
Aemond stood silently, occasionally handing his father documents that needed signing or passing warm water mixed with honey when Viserys coughed.
"...Therefore, I suggest reducing the mill tax on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush by thirty percent to encourage more farmers to reclaim wasteland," Lyman Beesbury concluded his lengthy report.
Viserys rubbed his temples and nodded tiredly.
"Approved. Is there anything else?"
"Your Grace," Lyman hesitated, turning his gaze to Aemond.
"There is one more matter... Prince Aemond approached me yesterday, requesting to withdraw one hundred thousand gold dragons from the treasury."
The council chamber fell silent instantly.
All eyes turned toward Aemond. One hundred thousand gold dragons was a fortune; enough to equip an army or build a castle.
Viserys turned his head, his eyes filled with curiosity rather than reproach.
"Aemond? What do you want so much money for?"
Aemond met his father's gaze. "I want to expand the estate you bestowed upon me, Father. It is near the Kingswood with excellent terrain, but the existing buildings are too simple. I plan to build a proper castle there."
Aemond spoke nonchalantly, but Otto knew better.
Not long ago, Aemond had requested fifty thousand gold dragons from House Hightower.
His Riverside Manor was already recruiting hundreds of stonemasons, carpenters, and blacksmiths. House Hightower knights were already stationed there, training men.
'He is building his own power,' Otto thought, satisfied.
"A castle..." Viserys mused.
He looked at his second son, the son who now controlled two dragons.
The King looked up at the Master of Coin.
"Lyman, allocate two hundred thousand gold dragons."
"Two hundred thousand?!" Old Lyman Beesbury almost jumped out of his chair.
"Your Grace! This... this is too generous! Although the treasury is full, such a large expenditure must be handled with caution! The accumulation of the Old King Jaehaerys and Your Grace over decades..."
"Aemond is my son," Viserys interrupted coldly.
"How can this money be considered generous? My son needs a castle worthy of his status. This land will also become his fief."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the table. "Regarding his current territory, the area can be expanded a bit further..."
Shock rippled through the room.
An independent fief? This meant Aemond would no longer be just a Prince, but a powerful Lord with his own territory, army, and financial authority.
Otto did not speak, avoiding suspicion of bias, but his eyes gleamed.
Jasper Wylde spoke immediately.
"Your Grace is wise! Prince Aemond is exceptionally gifted and indeed deserves this honor."
Larys Strong smiled. "Your Grace, this will also strengthen the royal family's power around King's Landing."
Tyland Lannister nodded. "I also support Your Grace's decision."
Only Lyman Beesbury countered.
"Your Grace, the area near the Kingswood is royal land, the King's own hunting grounds. If it is designated as Prince Aemond's fief, what about the other members of the royal family?"
"Royal family members?" Viserys's voice turned sharp.
"My eldest son Aegon is at Driftmark. My eldest daughter, Rhaenyra, has Dragonstone. My youngest son, Daeron, is with House Hightower. Aemond is the only child by my side. Why should I not bestow upon him a fief?"
He allowed no further argument.
"My mind is made up. The Riverside Manor and the surrounding hundred miles are designated as Aemond's fief."
"Thank you for the reward, Father," Aemond bowed.
"Have you thought of what to call it?" Viserys asked.
Aemond smiled. "I ask Your Grace to grant me a name."
Viserys pondered for a moment.
"Then let it be named... Summerhall."
"Lyman, allocate the gold. Otto, Jasper, draft the formal documents to establish Aemond's lordship over Summerhall."
Aemond looked at Lyman Beesbury with a faint smile.
'Now even the King favors me. The Small Council is filled with my people. How can you possibly play against me?'
He also had to thank Rhaenyra. Her absence from court, driven by her feud with Alicent and the rumors about her sons, had left a vacuum that Aemond was all too happy to fill.
"Is there anything else?" Viserys asked, looking ready to retire.
"Your Grace," Otto spoke up.
"There is one more thing. The envoys from the Triarchy have been waiting. You agreed yesterday to grant them an audience."
Viserys paused. "Ah, my memory... Let them in."
Ser Criston pushed open the doors.
"The King summons the envoys of the Triarchy!"
Outside the door, the sound of heavy footsteps approached.
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