The Red Keep.
Dusk was approaching.
The prince's party returned laden with spoils.
Joffrey rode on his horse, holding a birdcage, his face filled with smugness as he reviewed the passing procession, as if all the prey had been hunted by him alone.
With the memories of the original body, his behavior was no different from the arrogant and willful brat he used to be.
The dangers at the center of the political vortex were countless.
Joffrey understood that he still had to lie low and endure, maintaining a foolish and harmless image.
After four or five months.
Kill the king, and then thoroughly cleanse King's Landing...
"Oh, my dear Prince, hunting is a dangerous activity. You didn't give any prior notice, and the Queen was very worried."
Varys, the Master of Whisperers, the "Spider," had somehow sidled over.
The bald fat man wore a wide purple robe, exuding a strong scent of powder, which always made people feel an inexplicable sense of disgust.
Heh, I've been waiting for you.
Joffrey waved his hand fiercely in front of his nose a few times, then pointed at Tyrion beside him.
"It's all my uncle's fault. It was just a piece of news, but he insisted I take him hunting in the Kingswood before he would tell me."
"Also, don't stand so close, Spider."
The eunuch Varys obediently stepped back a few paces. "So that's it. It must have been a troublesome secret. I wonder if the Prince is satisfied?"
Tyrion put on an exaggerated expression.
"Does that even need saying? If I hadn't satisfied the esteemed Prince Joffrey, could I still be standing here properly?"
Varys just looked at the Prince with a fawning smile.
"Look, this Snow Bunting in the cage, how happily it hops, hahaha." Joffrey laughed.
Varys also smiled widely. "Yes, it's truly amusing."
"By the way," Joffrey dropped the birdcage. "Where are Father and Mother?"
"Tomorrow is my twelfth nameday, and I've thought of a unique gift. A Dragon Egg! Haha, you've never seen one, have you!"
Varys echoed repeatedly, "Oh, oh, indeed a rare treasure, such a treasure, who could be fortunate enough to witness it?"
Joffrey's face fell again. "Hmph, some people can see them every day! It's a... what... a governor..."
Needless to say, Tyrion knew his part had arrived.
"A governor in Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis. He possesses three Dragon Eggs, perfect for giving to the three princes and princesses."
Joffrey pouted.
Anyone could see that he had no intention of sharing the gift with his younger siblings.
Varys stepped back a few more paces.
"Look at my memory, it's terrible, I almost forgot to clear up your confusion."
"Although our brave King is still inspecting the city, you only need to move to the Queen's Ballroom, and you will surely see the Queen's charming smile."
"I wish you an early fulfillment of your wishes."
Joffrey immediately pulled on the reins and rode towards Maegor's Holdfast on his own.
Tyrion quickly followed. According to the plan, he still had to endure Cersei's glare and interrogation.
The Spider did not linger.
He had also harvested his own "prey."
...
Crossing the dry moat and the twelve-foot-thick walls, one reached the center of the Red Keep, the castle within the castle—Maegor's Holdfast.
In the Queen's Ballroom on the first floor, things were progressing smoothly.
Queen Cersei, who was infinitely indulgent towards her children, simply did not know how to refuse, especially when it came to her favorite eldest son.
Tyrion fully dealt with his sister's sarcasm and questions, assuring her that the three Dragon Eggs truly existed, but refusing to reveal the source of the information.
Joffrey only needed to give up struggling and let Cersei have her way.
In less than half an hour, the satisfied Queen relented and ordered the Master of Coin, "Littlefinger," to supervise the matter with all his might, sparing no expense.
From this moment on, the Dragon Mother's storyline was completely overturned.
Leaving the Queen's Ballroom.
Tyrion hesitated for a moment, then headed straight for the White Sword Tower.
That was the residence of the Kingsguard. As everyone knew, Ser Jaime Lannister, the "Kingslayer," was an honorable Kingsguard.
Seeing this scene, Joffrey understood that Tyrion was about to face the truth about Tysha completely.
Love, hate, and resentment, the eternal accompaniment of humanity.
He looked up at the towering Tower of the Hand.
Several days ago, Lord Tywin Lannister had arrived in the capital with a large retinue, preparing to attend Prince Joffrey's Nameday Tourney tomorrow.
He was currently staying in the Tower of the Hand.
Would Tyrion repeat the parricide scene in the Tower of the Hand from the original work?
Returning to his bedroom, Joffrey dismissed his servants and lay lazily on the bed, staring at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander.
A full day of rushing and scheming was bound to leave one physically and mentally exhausted.
Despite this, Joffrey knew he couldn't relax yet. Compared to his life, what was a little hardship and fatigue?
He had a clear understanding of his dangerous situation.
In a few months, the chaotic era that would sweep across the entire continent and even the world would begin.
He wanted to stop it.
But even if the king died tomorrow and he was crowned on the spot, he would still be powerless.
Peace or turmoil depended on the level of conflict and contradiction among the various classes in the Seven Kingdoms, not solely on a good king.
He knew very well. Westeros belonged to the King, but even more so to the nobles.
The King on the Iron Throne, like the Son of Heaven in the Western Zhou and Eastern Zhou dynasties, nominally ruled the Seven Kingdoms.
But the area and population of the directly administered Crownlands were less than one-tenth of the entire Seven Kingdoms.
In most of the land under the dynasty's rule, the direct rulers were the various feudal lords, led by the lords paramount of the Seven Kingdoms.
Under one Iron Throne were many independent forces, playing an endless game of power.
There was no middle ground in this game; if you didn't become a winner, there was only a dead end.
The strong contended for supremacy.
He was the deer, and also a player.
And he only had a bad hand: no confidantes, no money, no power, no reputation, no army. The only thing he had was the title of Crown Prince, which carried the risk of exploding at any time.
Even worse, the rules of the game were more cruel and violent.
Propriety and music had collapsed, and strength reigned supreme.
In just a few years, the lords paramount and great lords of the Seven Kingdoms, overseas forces, the Wildlings beyond The Wall, and even monsters like the Others would wager all their chips, competing and killing each other.
Joffrey was undoubtedly the most conspicuous target.
If he couldn't win this game, even if he wasn't poisoned to death like in the original work, he would eventually die in some other unexpected way.
Of course, in addition to the dangerous impetus, huge benefits were also important drivers.
Three Dragon Eggs that could hatch were enough to make countless people go crazy. Yet he could obtain them with just one day's effort.
There were many similar opportunities.
The fruit was too tempting, how could one resist not acting?
The light grew dimmer and dimmer, the intricate patterns on the ceiling gradually disappeared, leaving Joffrey with a blurry black shadow.
He got up and walked to the window, admiring the evening view of the Red Keep.
The clouds in the sky were layered, red like fire.
The Red Keep, built of crimson, was also stained with red light, seemingly brighter, and yet also darker.
Soldiers on duty in the corridors and on the ground were placing torches and lighting braziers everywhere, preparing for the night patrol.
It was like a castle scene from a medieval movie, constantly reminding him that he had traveled to another world.
An epic and magical world, his real world.
How to smoothly control the capital, King's Landing, within half a year and eliminate internal hidden dangers?
He stood lost in thought for a long time.
When he came back to his senses, the moon was already in the sky.
Looking up at the bright moon, he made up his mind.
The new life was bound to be dangerous and exciting. The future would be very busy.
He would reminisce about that world one last time. After tonight, he would live wholeheartedly and freely in the present.
The night grew thicker and cooler.
He changed into silk pajamas, poured a glass of Dornish Red Wine, and leaned against the window, gazing out.
A toast to the moon.
It was as cold and as round as the moon palace there.
A toast to the stars.
Countless stars. Were they also worlds
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