King's Landing, a lively tavern.
After Daemon gradually restored order and economy to King's Landing, these taverns, which had either gone underground or gone bankrupt under Rhaenyra's 'all-tax' rule, revived and returned. With considerable investment from behind-the-scenes patrons, they now gathered all sorts of people from King's Landing. It was both a place of entertainment for the common folk of King's Landing and a venue for many who sought to gain profit in this place of power to gather information.
Bang.
A silver-haired man burst into the tavern, bottle in hand: "Haha, this time I watched the whole dragon landing." After saying that, the man took a big swig of mead and drunkenly slurred, "Who said I couldn't? Pay up, quick, pay up."
A dark-skinned sailor from the Summer Isles grumbled as he pulled out a handful of copper coins: "Damn it, Ulf, you're really lucky. Why didn't Vermithor crush you to death?"
"Ha, my old man was 'Brave' Baelon, even Vermithor had to spare my life out of respect for my old man being the son of its previous master." Ulf sat down casually beside a few old drinking buddies, tossing the newly won copper coins onto the counter.
The equally silver-haired barkeep glared at his old regular, then casually pulled out a bottle of mead that clearly had several years of age on it and threw it onto Ulf's table.
"That's not right, that money could buy four or five bottles of new mead, how dare you, you bastard..." Ulf slammed the table, about to get angry, but the barkeep slapped him in the face with a somewhat mottled piece of parchment.
"You owe me over twenty coppers already. These coppers are for paying off your debt."
"Uh..." Ulf was momentarily speechless. He was originally an ordinary soldier from Dragonstone, responsible for guarding the castle during the Dance of the Dragons. After the war, he received his last military pay and retired gracefully, taking advantage of Daemon's street and new house construction in King's Landing to settle down there.
Unfortunately, besides fighting, drinking, and bragging, he had no other means of making a living. In just a few short years, he had squandered all his savings. However, luckily, he had some luck and a smooth tongue, managing to make a living by bragging and telling stories.
As for his claim that he was Prince Baelon's bastard, people just took it as a joke. Although, considering his age and background, it was unlikely he was a Targaryen bastard like those little bald-headed children in King's Landing, who were actually bastards of the Valyrian people brought by the Varezes family. But precisely because a large number of Valyrians settled in Westeros, silver hair and purple eyes were no longer rare, and less conspicuous among the common folk.
"Alright, alright." Ulf grudgingly took the mead. He pulled out the cork and took a swig. "Seven Hells, it's really sour."
"Alright, Ulf, tell us about those dragons." The dark-skinned sailor from the Summer Isles quickly raised his mug to smooth things over. "Didn't you follow His Majesty and the Prince's entourage the whole way? Tell us about it."
"Yes, tell us about it." The others in the tavern also chimed in.
Ulf was now in high spirits, jumping onto the table. The black fellow was not ambiguous either, pouring a full mug of strong ale from his own beer pitcher and handing it to Ulf, who, not being picky, drank it all in one go.
"I won't talk about Vermithor, everyone saw it, by the seven gods, the sky turned dark when it flew over King's Landing. Let's first talk about the dragon gods that His Highness the Prince brought to the palace outside the city." Ulf proudly introduced the dragon of his self-proclaimed grandfather, and when he mentioned the Vaerezys Black Palace, this drunkard actually felt a bit of envy.
This palace was quickly built with the help of the dragons. Tall black walls protected this beautiful grand palace, and common people like them could only watch from afar, fantasizing about how luxurious the interior of this palace must be.
"This time I'm going to talk about those two new dragons. I'm telling you, that black dragon with the beautiful roar, I asked my Gold Cloaks friends, and they told me it's called Star Song. By the seven gods, I can't believe that dragon is only ten years old."
"How is that possible?"
An older citizen of King's Landing immediately stood up: "How can that young dragon be only ten years old?" He had also just watched the King's procession enter the city and saw the five dragons flying over the capital.
"I've seen King Aegon..." Before he could finish, his drinking buddy on the table quickly raised his mug: "To King Jacaerys I, friend of the common folk."
Everyone in the tavern simultaneously shouted and raised their mugs. Only then did the drinking buddy quietly pull the old citizen: "You should call him Usurper Aegon; the one on the Iron Throne now is King Aegon."
People drank a round of ale before turning their attention to Ulf and the old citizen. They also knew that the old citizen's statement was incorrect, but nearly seven years had passed since the Dance of the Dragons.
Although many things were no longer as sensitive, it was still good to be serious.
"Usurper Aegon's golden dragon, it's called... what was its name again?" "Sunfyre," a sullen man said flatly. Unlike the others, this man wore rough leather clothing, and his hands were large and coarse, not at all like an ordinary citizen.
"Yes, it's called Sunfyre, by the seven gods, I can swear to the Father that the black dragon's size is almost catching up to Sunfyre's."
"How is that possible? You must have seen wrong."
"Why not? I saw it with my own eyes."
Ignoring the argument between the old citizen and his other drinking buddies, Ulf happily accepted a sour wine offered by a drinking buddy and gulped it down. "Barkeep, your sour wine is still the best. Honestly, how much vinegar do you put in it?"
"Get out of here, if you're going to tell a story, get on with it."
"Oh right, and the Queen's dragon, Seven Hells, it's really ugly." Ulf exaggeratedly widened his eyes with his fingers. "That dragon's eyes are bigger than..."
Ulf looked around for a reference and finally chose his own head: "Bigger than my head. Its head looks like an eel, and like a toad, just not like a dragon."
"Ulf, if those Silver Dragon guys hear you, you'll be in big trouble." A chubby merchant said with a smile: "They are very particular about the appearance of their Princess's dragon."
"Hehe, as long as you don't sell me out, they won't find me. That dragon isn't small either. I watched it land in that palace outside the city. I'm telling you, when that dragon landed, several octopus tentacles suddenly fell off it with a splash, scaring us quite a bit."
Ulf mysteriously lowered his voice: "I don't think that dragon counts as a dragon at all; it doesn't even have dragon horns..."
"Ulf." The barkeep sternly interrupted Ulf's gossiping: "Do you want to get me shut down? I'm telling you, if the Gold Cloaks seal my shop, I'll be the first to kill you."
"Don't get excited." Ulf impishly raised his wine bottle: "I just won't say anything, alright?"
Meanwhile, in a villa beneath the Dragonpit on the other side.
A young man with silver hair and purple eyes quickly entered the villa's basement.
Several other people with similar silver hair and purple eyes sat around a long table in the basement. Before them were already spread out portraits of the dragons that had landed in King's Landing today, drawn by an artist.
"Everyone, we still have a chance." The young man who entered took out a stack of new portraits. "The young king on the Iron Throne has ordered the dragons raised on Dragonstone to be moved to the Dragonpit in King's Landing for his descendants' use."
"By R'hllor, I don't believe he can't see the threat of the Varezes family."
"Shut up." A man who clearly had a bad temper snapped at the one who had just spoken. "Do you think only you can see it? Even if they want to curb the Varezes, they'll choose from within their own family, not us outsiders."
"Then what's the point of us coming to this dirty place?" A young man said dejectedly: "Ben and Hogg are dead, and those Rogare commoners are more eager to find us than spies. If we can't get dragons, we might as well go back to Volantis."
"He's stupid, and so are you." The leading man snorted. "The deaths of those three were not without value; at least they provided us with a lesson. Everyone, time is on our side. Our goal is to make the family great again, and whether that happens in our generation is not important. Our task is to record the appearance and personality of every dragon, and to learn methods of raising, taming, and hatching dragons."
He smiled faintly.
"Wait, our chance will come."
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