Rayder did not hesitate or soften his words; he stated his demands bluntly, with the precision and authority of a man who had learned to take what he wanted. "I want all records concerning the Land of Eternal Winter," he said, his voice steady. "Books, maps, or any related documentation. Every fragment of information matters. I also require the details of the trade routes and resource distributions in Nymph Town and across the North. Both of these requests must be fulfilled. Only then will I accept your proposal and support Laenor. And make no mistake—whether or not Laenor eventually claims the Iron Throne, you are still bound to your promise. I will receive what is due to me."
The weight of his words lingered in the room. Rayder's demands were not merely a list of requests—they were an assertion of dominance, a demonstration that he not only sought influence over politics but also craved absolute knowledge about the strategic and economic underpinnings of the North. His tone left no room for negotiation.
Erlad, the Northern lord who had been acting as intermediary, felt a cold knot of apprehension tighten in his chest. The gravity of Rayder's requests immediately registered in his mind, and a mixture of hesitation, disbelief, and unease flickered across his face. He had known Rayder to be clever, but now he realized just how far-reaching and ambitious the man truly was.
The truth was bitterly clear: if Erlad succeeded in his mission against Rayder, almost all the risks would fall squarely on his shoulders. Every political misstep, every misjudged word in the council could potentially ignite wrath from Jaehaerys and the other influential ministers, threatening his lands, his alliances, and the delicate balance of power he had fought so hard to maintain. Meanwhile, Rayder—regardless of success or failure—stood to reap the intelligence and advantages he sought.
A spark of indignation rose in Erlad's chest. He could almost taste the injustice of it. Here he was, the middleman, shouldering all uncertainty and danger, while Rayder, with the calmness of a calculating predator, demanded the fruits of the transaction without risk. The sense of being manipulated gnawed at him, and he struggled with a surge of anger, feeling as if he had been cleverly tricked into playing a dangerous game without sufficient leverage.
Even beyond the political risks, Erlad's personal doubts weighed heavily. Deep down, he did not believe that Laenor had any real chance of ascending to the Iron Throne. The old king, Jaehaerys, despite his advancing years, remained formidable in influence and judgment, and Viserys had the backing of capable and ambitious brothers like Daemon. Laenor, young, inexperienced, and lacking a sufficient network of loyal supporters, was at best a hopeful contender, at worst a naive dreamer attempting to seize a throne in an environment stacked against him.
The more Erlad thought about it, the deeper his uncertainty grew. He wondered whether he had been manipulated not only by Corlys Velaryon but also by this enigmatic Rayder, whose motives were as opaque as they were persuasive. Every risk Erlad weighed now seemed magnified—every step forward could lead to ruin, and yet the lure of reclaiming his newly granted lands remained irresistibly strong. These lands were not mere property; they were the foundation of his family's power, resources critical to the North's economy, and a symbol of his legacy. The stakes were high, the potential consequences terrifying, but the temptation of control and opportunity was undeniable.
The intelligence Erlad had gathered on Rayder added another layer of caution. It painted a picture of a man who was neither benevolent nor simple to confront. To challenge him directly could be fatal. Add to this the subtle pressure from Corlys, and Erlad had little choice. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed his doubts and reluctantly agreed.
Rayder allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The subtlety of this operation pleased him immensely. Without violence, without overt coercion, he had extracted the information he required. A few careful words, a strategic promise, and an agreement that placed the Northern lord at risk while he remained untouchable—that was the elegance of power. He did not even consider the possibility of Erlad reneging; with Red Dragon Yigen and Black Dragon Im circling in the distance, the threat of raw power was implicit and inescapable. If Erlad dared betray him, the price would be blood.
With the agreement sealed, the tension that had pervaded the council hall seemed to lift. Erlad, now acting as a willing host rather than a wary intermediary, led Rayder through the streets of King's Landing, eager to display the city's charm. The sight of the three-headed dragon, Kidora, walking beside them, drew awe-struck stares from passersby. Though Red Dragon Yigen and Black Dragon Im were far too large to navigate the narrow streets, Kidora's manageable size allowed him to accompany the pair, his three heads swaying curiously and occasionally sniffing at the various market stalls. The combination of man and dragon created a spectacle that none could ignore—a living marvel winding its way through the bustling city.
Erlad's skill as a host became immediately apparent. He understood not only the importance of showing Rayder the city's wonders but also the subtler art of winning trust and favor. Despite Rayder's lofty position, he craved a taste of life outside political machinations—the simple pleasures of good food, entertainment, and sensory delight. Erlad seized this opportunity.
The pair visited taverns that served the finest ale and spiced roasted meats, engaging in lively games of dice and cards. They explored casinos brimming with excitement, where fortunes could be won or lost in a single throw. Perfumed brothels, with their rich aromas and elegant signage, provided a glimpse into the city's more decadent offerings. Every stop was curated with precision, designed to both entertain and impress.
Rayder, accustomed to commanding armies and manipulating alliances, found himself unexpectedly charmed. He savored exotic dishes, fine wines, and the playful antics of Kidora as the dragon tested each delicacy with his three heads. The dragon's satisfaction, expressed in low, contented hums and playful nuzzles against Rayder, created a rare sense of intimacy between man and beast. Observing this, Erlad allowed himself a small, private gloat. He knew that to secure Rayder's loyalty, it was not enough to negotiate deals; the young man needed to feel the city's culture, its pleasures, and the sense of goodwill that Erlad could provide.
Rayder, for his part, could not suppress his admiration. "This fellow is talented," he thought. "He navigates both people and circumstances with an ease that commands respect." What had initially seemed a mere transaction had transformed into an immersive experience of King's Landing's wealth, culture, and subtle power dynamics.
By the time they returned to the Red Keep, Rayder felt lighter, freer. He could still recall the perfumed streets of Silk Street, the lightly dressed entertainers, and the extraordinary care given to Kidora. He marveled at the city's hidden intricacies, recognizing that King's Landing was indeed a place where hidden dragons and crouching tigers dwelled, where even indulgences were executed with precision and expertise. The city catered to those who had the gold to demand comfort—even if one's needs were as singular as caring for a Titan-level dragon.
Rayder's thoughts began to wander. A mischievous curiosity took root: should Kidora have a companion? Perhaps a female dragon? Kidora's species, a two-winged dragon of Titan-beast magnitude, was biologically compatible with other magic dragons. What sort of offspring might result? Would the progeny inherit Kidora's immense size and strength, or would it display the agility, firepower, and cunning of Targaryen dragons? The possibilities sparked a playful smile on Rayder's lips.
His mind swirled with images of massive dragon eggs, the delicate care required to nurture them, and the potential of new generations of dragons combining the traits of both parents. This experiment, he mused, would have to wait until Kidora's growth stabilized, but the thought alone was exhilarating—a blend of strategy, curiosity, and the thrill of creation.
In this way, Rayder's ambitions were not confined to politics alone. He considered the implications of power on every level, from territorial intelligence to the very breeding of dragons. Every action, every choice, held the potential to shape not only the present but the future, extending influence across generations and continents.
And as he sat in the Red Keep, contemplating his next moves and the care of his extraordinary companion, he understood that King's Landing was more than just a city—it was a chessboard, a stage, and a laboratory for ambition, pleasure, and power. Every alley, every stall, and every corner could yield both opportunity and risk, a constant reminder that in the game of thrones, every trade-off mattered.
Rayder's mind brimmed with possibilities. He had secured the information he required, strengthened his ties with influential players, and ensured that his dragon's future would be as remarkable as its present. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew that every advantage gained came at a cost. Trust could be fleeting, allies fickle, and the Iron Throne remained as elusive as ever.
Still, he smiled. Challenges, intrigue, dragons, and the city's intricate charms—this was exactly the kind of game he had always loved to play. And Rayder, for all his ambition and cunning, was ready to play it better than anyone else.
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