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Daeron stood between the three totem poles, Galaxy Sword in one hand and Dark Sister in the other. He gave the pillars a quick bow of thanks, then headed back the way he came.
Finding the desert oasis wasn't just about one new sword.
He kept searching. South of the dividing road he spotted the bleached bones of a massive dragon half-buried in the sand—different from the black iron-rich bones of the family dragons he knew.
Further on, tucked between a giant cactus and a coconut palm, sat a familiar wooden chest.
It opened with a creak.
Cactus seeds, starfruit seeds, desert totems, Triple Shot Espresso, Spicy Eel—everything a man could want in one place.
Daeron checked the panel. Monday. Too bad. The desert merchant's stock changed every day.
He bought fifty of each seed, three hundred starfruit seeds for Ginger Island, and every desert totem he could afford. Four million gold vanished in a heartbeat.
Then he grabbed 568 Triple Shot Espressos and 756 Spicy Eels.
Speed buffs and luck buffs stacked. Perfect for the mines.
He tried feeding them to Caraxes.
The dragon happily swallowed the eel but refused the coffee. No speed boost when they flew. Special food only worked on people.
"Dragons really are too strong for this stuff," Daeron muttered.
No matter. He had plenty for himself.
---
The next day Anders Yronwood and Arthur Dayne arrived with a column of riders.
Melisandre met them at the rock wall. "The prince is inside the oasis. Don't disturb him."
They found Daeron sitting under a palm tree, calmly wiping Dark Sister clean.
His black clothes were torn. His silver-gold hair had been hacked into a short, uneven cut. Green blood flecked his face. He looked like he had just walked out of a slaughterhouse.
Anders started to speak. Arthur grabbed his arm and shook his head.
The Sword of the Morning's eyes were sharp. That wasn't human blood. And no ordinary beast could have shredded Daeron's clothes.
"Prince, did you run into trouble?" Arthur asked quietly.
Daeron looked up. "There's a cave over by the lake. A few monsters. I took care of them."
He pointed north toward Skull Cavern.
Arthur checked the entrance himself. No blood. No bodies. Just an odd altar and a sealed door. He returned and said nothing more.
Daeron was already lost in his panel.
Farming 10, Mining 10, Foraging 10, Fishing 10, Combat 10. Mastery progress climbing fast.
A new trinket glowed in his inventory—Level 2 Fairy Box. A tiny purple fairy with butterfly wings now fluttered around his shoulders, healing every scratch with soft green light.
No one else could see her.
---
King's Landing.
Tywin called an emergency Small Council meeting.
Lord Caswell of Bitterbridge was planning to rebel.
The room went dead silent.
Mace Tyrell's mouth fell open. "Caswell? Rebellion?"
Varys stood and explained in his soft voice. Caswell had been meeting secretly with Lords Peake, Fossoway, and Merryweather. He was angry about the Great Council and the three-kingdom merger. He wanted to force the king to reverse course and strip Daeron of the succession.
The letters Caswell sent to the Red Keep had never arrived.
Varys made sure of that.
Tywin's green eyes were ice. "Mace, your bannerman is plotting treason. You will answer for it."
Mace swallowed hard. "I'll find every traitor, my lord. I swear it."
Davos Seaworth spoke up. "We need to move fast. Pull one weed and the whole patch comes with it."
Tywin nodded. "You'll take ten Lionheart knights and your Constabulary Knights. Crush Bitterbridge. Take Caswell alive. Make him name every accomplice."
A dragon's roar split the air outside.
"Hiss-graa—!!"
Red wings flashed across the sky above the Red Keep.
The council turned as one.
Ser Gerold Hightower opened the door. Behind him stood Arthur Dayne, dusty from the road.
"My lords," Gerold said. "Prince Daeron has returned."