"Viserys, you promised me you'd take me to inspect the Royal Fleet today!"
Seeing Viserys hand the last envelope to the new Court Eunuch, Daenerys immediately stepped forward, hugged his arm, and spoke with a hint of urgency in her tone.
The temporary palace was simply too stifling.
People are strange like that. When the siblings were living under someone else's roof, the princess thought it would be wonderful if they could stay there forever. Now that they had everything, she found the palace unbearably stuffy and boring.
Viserys didn't refuse. He took a sip of wine presented by Nine_Thousand_Years—who wore a flattering smile—and, feeling refreshed, rose to his feet. He ordered the preparations for the "Royal Inspection of the Fleet."
Ever since Admiral Pymber switched allegiance, he had been working diligently day and night, terrified that the King above him would find an excuse to replace him. This anxiety had only worsened since the King appointed a Vice Admiral, causing Pymber to suffer from insomnia.
To curry favor with the King, demonstrate his loyalty, and showcase his capabilities, Admiral Pymber proposed that His Grace inspect the Royal Navy fleet he had been training.
When the "Son of Heaven" moves, the earth must shake in response.
With Unsullied clearing the way and white-cloaked knights surrounding them, the King and Princess rode in a double-decker carriage, escorted by a majestic procession toward the harbor of Pentos.
The newly established Royal Navy, including the three armed merchant ships recently added to the battle order, now totaled twenty-three warships. They were lined up in battle formation, prows facing the harbor uniformly, allowing His Grace to admire the fleet's grandeur.
Although the fleet had lost many sailors during the "Pentos Incident," finding replacements near the harbor was easy enough—as long as the price was right.
Sailors in this era didn't require much sophistication. Most were fishermen's sons who could be pulled in to serve immediately. As long as they had the strength to row, the courage to fight, and knew how to swim, they were good to go.
If you wanted skill and expertise, you had to look at the level of a second mate or higher.
---
Clop, clop, clop.
Twenty white-cloaked knights and Unsullied infantry on white horses, stepping in unison, formed two columns to clear the path ahead. In the center, they guarded the double-decker carriage. Behind them, banners flew high, and a large group of white-cloaked players looked imposing and martial.
Vice Admiral Groleo immediately spotted Ser Jorah Mormont, the Kingsguard and honorary Commander of the White Cloaks (players), riding beside the carriage.
He also saw Roland, the Commander of the Royal Kingsguard Knights—the actual Commander of the White Cloaks—dressed in similar white armor.
The Vice Admiral thought to himself, One day, I too shall be as majestic as those two.
Groleo cast a subtle glance at Pymber, who stood a step ahead of him. Incompetent fool, he thought. Sooner or later, the seat of Master of Ships on the Small Council will be mine.
"His Grace, the Rightful Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, King of Pentos and Andalos, Rightful Heir to the Targaryen Dynasty, Scion of the True Dragon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, King Viserys III has arrived!"
Standing behind the carriage driver, the Court Eunuch Nine_Thousand_Years shouted in a shrill voice.
After finishing the announcement, he almost added, "All subjects kneel," but suddenly remembered that wasn't the custom here and quickly stopped himself.
"Greetings, Your Grace. May the Gods bless you forever!"
Seeing the King lead Princess Daenerys down from the carriage by the hand, the two Admirals immediately stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"May the Gods bless you as well, my Lords."
Encouraged by Viserys, Daenerys greeted the two commanders.
"We thank you, Princess, embodiment of kindness and beauty!" The two commanders returned the greeting in unison.
"Very well, my Lords. Please let me see the loyal sailors of the Royal Navy and the Invincible Armada."
Although a small fleet of twenty-three ships wasn't exactly impressive, one still had to say the polite words. If he, as King, started criticizing them when they were already shabby, the Royal Fleet would truly be useless.
So Viserys had already made up his mind: as long as the fleet's performance today was passable, he would pretend not to know even if Mouse_Is_Duck told him later that the navy had hidden people inside the target ships to rig the results.
With the King present, the fleet's morale was decent. After shouting "Long Live the King" three times, the fleet began its drill.
A series of beautiful formation changes and turns made Viserys, who wasn't an expert, nod frequently.
It was clear that Admiral Pymber had put his heart into this, and Vice Admiral Groleo was truly capable.
Daenerys sat beside him, beaming. For her, this was a grand spectacle. Happy and excited, she kept tugging at her brother's sleeve, asking questions about everything, perhaps a bit unseemly for a princess.
Standing behind the Princess, her handmaiden Doreah saw no impatience on the King's face and secretly breathed a sigh of relief for her mistress.
Before coming here, the merchant who bought her had said this King was ambitious in ability and very handsome in character.
Looking at him now, it seemed the rumors were actually understating things—or perhaps the negative rumors were slander.
He was clearly a gentle, handsome, and wealthy King.
As a target ship slowly appeared on the horizon, Viserys knew the main event was coming.
Soon, just as he expected—whether because people were hidden inside or the fleet was truly well-trained—a volley of trebuchet stones left the target ship battered and broken, slowly sinking into the sea.
With that, the naval performance concluded. Admiral Pymber stole a glance at the King's expression. Seeing that he looked very satisfied, Pymber let out a long breath of relief.
This should count as passing the test, right?
---
"Ah, sometimes I really want to leave all these burdens behind and just roam the world with swords in hand, just the two of us!"
King Robert and his soon-to-be Hand, Lord Eddard Stark, rode off the Kingsroad and stopped atop a low, gentle hill.
The feeling of riding into the wind filled Robert with emotion.
Ned glanced at Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount behind the King. Robert turned back as well.
Whatever was left unsaid was understood. He knew what his friend meant.
Don't even think about it. You still have a kingdom.
"Fck!" The King still had the right to express his dissatisfaction. He looked at his friend.
"Do you remember Ser Jorah Mormont?"
Ned was used to the King's erratic conversation topics. He quickly shifted his focus to the long-unheard name.
"I will never forget that man. He doesn't deserve the name Mormont." Ned blurted out. Even if Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, were standing right in front of him, Ned wouldn't hesitate to list Jorah's crimes.
For Ned, black was black and white was white.
King Robert, however, wasn't as unyielding.
Pulling a rolled-up parchment from his belt, the King handed it to his Hand.
"Here. You need to start familiarizing yourself with your work."
"Jorah is currently in Pentos. He was supposed to be waiting for a royal pardon so he could cross the sea and return home," the King said.
"So a slaver has turned himself into a spy?" Ned expressed his disgust openly in front of the King.
"No. The slaver has turned himself into a Kingsguard for House Targaryen!"