Cassimir blinked, then frowned. "Aegon Targaryen? Isn't he just another orphan?"
"What difference is there between him and that beggar king? Only the name."
"Difference?" Sa Melis shook her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips as if gently correcting a child's mistake.
Her gaze swept the table; her voice was soft yet carried absolute weight. "Young Lord Cassimir, the difference is as vast as heaven and earth."
"Viserys had nothing beyond a calamity-bringing empty title—penniless, wandering, pawning even his dignity."
"This Prince Aegon, however…" She paused, savoring the power in the name, "was personally rescued from the Westerosi catastrophe by someone of tremendous reach."
"And raised in secret by Jon Connington—the knight who once ruled the Stormlands and remained loyal to House Targaryen unto death."
"From childhood he received the most orthodox princely education; knowledge, speech, arms, and the art of command—all impeccable."
"More importantly…" She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table with poised focus.
"He enjoys the full support and friendship of Pentos's Governor Illyrio."
"You know Illyrio's wealth and connections. Behind him stands that terrifyingly well-informed friend at the Westerosi court… Their intelligence net blankets the entire Westeros."
Cassimir and several nobles showed clear interest; Illyrio's riches could move any heart.
Sa Melis read their faces and played her heaviest chip: "And… the Golden Company."
She spoke as casually as discussing the weather, yet gasps rippled through the courtyard.
"The undefeated Golden Company that roams the Disputed Lands has sworn fealty to Prince Aegon."
"A force of nearly ten thousand, superbly equipped and battle-hardened, will be his solid backbone."
The Company's weight was far more vivid and stunning than mere gold.
"So, young Lord Cassimir, my lords," Sa Melis purred persuasively, "our coming meeting is no simple 'welcome'."
"It is a 'partnership' that concerns the future, an 'investment' with incalculable returns."
"In the short term, a Targaryen heir backed by the Golden Company and Illyrio appearing in the Narrow Sea is a powerful deterrent." She reasoned coolly, "When the greedy vultures of Myr and Tyrosh bare their teeth at Lys, they'll think twice."
"In the long term…" A glint flashed in her eyes, though her tone stayed soft, "Westeros under the Stag dynasty looks calm yet hides swirling currents. When the time is ripe, this legitimate heir could raise the banner of restoration, supported by the Golden Company's steel and Illyrio's gold."
"By then…" She sipped from her crystal goblet, studying their expressions, "our investment will return a hundred- or thousand-fold. Trade privileges across Westeros? A few rich castles? Even… higher glory and power?"
Suppressing her own excitement, she went on, "And what Lys must pay is actually little."
"Publicly acknowledge Prince Aegon's identity and rights, offer courtesy and support, provide ports and supplies when needed."
"And… bestow upon him the title 'Prince of Lys,' giving him a dignified, stable starting point."
Having finished, Sa Melis breathed lightly, raising her cup again to hide her flushed cheeks.
If she could bring this about… She already saw the glorious future—no longer a high-class courtesan shuttling among nobles, but a woman wielding real power like the legendary "Black Swan" Johanna Swann.
Moreover… Prince Aegon seemed unmarried. If she could go further… The thought sent a tremor through her.
"Enough, Miss Sa Melis."
Governor Dorian Antalion's voice cut through her reverie and quelled the courtyard's restless murmur.
Calm as ever, he tapped the table. "Everything depends on the bargaining chips and whether this Prince Aegon… is worth our wager."
"The Golden Company's allegiance must be confirmed, Illyrio's support secured, the prince's ability and temperament personally verified."
"The title Prince of Lys… is no gift to be given lightly."
"Of course, my lord governor." Sa Melis adjusted instantly, perfect smile returning, confidence restored.
"But I assure you, an alliance with Prince Aegon can only benefit us."
"Illyrio and his friend have paved the way; the loyalty of the Golden Company and Connington is ready guarantee."
"This Prince Aegon… is a rare commodity. If we hesitate and another city takes him, our loss will be real."
Beyond the green wall, Aegon slowly closed his eyes, then opened them.
In the violet depths, the last ripple of emotion turned to icy stillness.
Golden Company, Connington, Blackfyre blood, Lysene nobles, Illyrio's gold, Varys's spies… What a grand stage.
What a superb game of chess.
Using his name—Aegon Targaryen—they wove a perfect "return of the dragon" tale to string every power together, pushing a pretender toward the iron throne.
And he, the rightful heir, was like a rat in the gutter, just crawled from cursed lands with a hundred sworn brothers, an unhatched monster, and a clutch of stone eggs, watching from the shadows.
Ironic?
More than that, it was cold clarity—and killing intent spreading from his heart.
The pieces were set.
The players thought they controlled the board.
Then… he stepped back, leaving no trace, and quietly departed the courtyard heatedly discussing how to "invest in the future."
Time to see for himself those two relatives who would soon become either stepping-stones or backdrop.
Then—
He would decide how… to overturn this seemingly perfect board.
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