Inside the Red Keep's study, candlelight illuminated the spread-out map of King's Landing, which was meticulously marked with the trifles of the city's reconstruction.
The Great Sept of Baelor and Silk Street, leveled by the hurricane force of dragon wings, and the reconstruction boundaries of the Dragonpit on Rhaenys's Hill were densely marked, all of which were the minute but essential tasks for maintaining the foundations of the dynasty.
Aegon stood before the table, his silver-white hair draping over his shoulders, dressed in simple black attire that made his figure appear as sturdy as a pine.
Jon Connington stood to the side, reporting the progress of the reconstruction of King's Landing word by word.
This trusted old minister, who held both military and political power, carried the complex burdens of the entire King's Landing on his shoulders; working day and night had long since caused his back to stoop slightly.
Yet, not long ago at the Grand Council, Aegon had personally conferred upon him the title of Marquess and expanded his fiefdom to nearly twice its original size. This honor and trust had given this Old Knight a new lease on life.
His hair was graying, but his eyes were burning bright; he reported every single matter with clarity and precision, filled with an inexhaustible drive.
After reporting the final reconstruction matter, Jon Connington gathered the scrolls and pondered for a long time. Unable to suppress the doubts in his heart, he bowed and spoke, his tone full of confusion:
"Your Grace, there is one thing I have never understood: why did you intentionally let Tommen Baratheon go after the Battle of Starkworth Castle?"
"At the time, our three armies had them surrounded and could have captured the entire enemy force. Why did you specifically order that a gap be left for them to escape?"
Upon hearing this, Aegon slowly raised his fingertips and tapped them against the map, neither too lightly nor too heavily. The sound of his knuckles against the paper was exceptionally clear in the quiet study, each tap carrying an indisputable force.
He did not answer directly, but instead looked up at Clinton. His violet eyes were calm and unruffled, yet they held the certainty of one who overlooks the world, and he spoke indifferently:
"Jon, if you were facing a powerful enemy strong enough to shake your foundations, what would you do?"
Jon Connington frowned slightly and was about to speak, but was directly interrupted by Aegon's next words. The tone was calm, yet every word exuded the spirit of one who could sweep across the world:
"Gather all available forces and fight with everything you have."
"Conversely, if your enemies are scattered across the continent of Westeros, fighting their own battles and dragging things out, how would you thoroughly wipe them out as quickly as possible?"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the outline of the entire continent on the map. His voice was indifferent, yet carried an overwhelming dominance:
"Let them go, and lure them to gather. Only by gathering the sand into a tower can one topple it all at once... gather them to annihilate them, and settle it in one battle."
As his voice fell, Aegon slowly pressed both hands against the edge of the table and leaned forward slightly. It was a look of utter disdain for all his adversaries, as if the conflicts of the entire continent were merely a game of chess in his palm.
"And to make these scattered enemies willingly gather together, one needs a bargaining chip of sufficient weight."
"My letting Tommen Baratheon go was never out of kindness; it was handing Tywin Lannister the sharpest sword, a trump card capable of prying open the entire continent."
Clinton knitted his brows even tighter, stepped forward, and asked with full confusion: "A trump card? Your Grace, Tommen is merely a child controlled by the Lannister, how could he carry such weight?"
Aegon looked up, a flash of piercing coldness suddenly crossing his violet eyes. His tone turned a few degrees colder as he spoke, every word puncturing the tacit truth of the world and laying bare the core of this chess game:
"Although he is the bastard child of Jaime and Cersei's incest, flowing through his veins is the lion's blood of the Lannister..."
"Yet in the eyes of everyone in Westeros, he is the legitimate son of Robert Baratheon and the rightful heir to the iron throne."
"This card is one I specifically left for Tywin."
"With him, Tywin can raise the banner of 'restoring the legitimate line' and stir up all the forces of the usurper from back then... the aggrieved Stark, the reclusive Arryn, and the dependent Tully."
"Just as the usurper alliance could join forces to destroy the Targaryen in the past, today, Tywin can use this banner to rebuild the anti-Targaryen alliance of the Lion, the Wolf, the Falcon, and the Fish."
"What I have always wanted is not to wipe out these scattered remnants one by one, but to wait for them to gather on their own, and then wipe them all out at once, ending the threat forever."
Jon Connington's expression remained full of concern as he said in a deep voice: "Your Grace, the current situation is no longer what it used to be."
"Stark and Lannister are already mortal enemies, and the Vale is controlled by that shortsighted woman Lysa Tully, who has closed off the Vale and ignores outside affairs. How could they put aside their grievances and unite just because of a child?"
"Could he, a mere usurper's descendant with an empty title and a claimant to the Baratheon throne, truly make all parties bow their heads?"
Aegon shook his head gently, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, almost mocking smile.
It was an expression of total disdain for his adversaries, as well as absolute confidence in his own strength.
He withdrew his hand from the edge of the table and stood up straight again, his silver hair slightly swaying. His tone was indifferent yet resonated with power:
"That is not a problem we need to worry about."
"I have already delivered the trump card into Tywin's hands. How to play the card, how to win over various forces, and how to hold up this banner are things that old lion should be worrying about."
"I never underestimate Tywin Lannister. I believe that old lion will give me a 'reply' that I will be satisfied with."
Just as his voice fell, a steady and respectful report came from a guard outside the study door, breaking the silence of the room:
"Reporting, Your Grace, news has come from the Red Keep's black cells that Jaime Lannister has awakened!"
In an instant, the aura around Aegon turned suddenly cold. The calmness he had shown while planning the chess game vanished, leaving only a chilling determination.
He turned and looked out the window, his gaze piercing through the stone walls of the Red Keep and falling directly upon the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor in the distance. His voice was low and harsh, ringing through the study word by word:
"Awakened just in time."
"Pass the order: immediately take Jaime Lannister out of the black cells and escort him to the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor!"
"Back then, he wore the White Cloak of the Targaryen Kingsguard, yet he personally betrayed and murdered the King he had sworn to protect—my grandfather, Aerys Targaryen II—committing the monstrous sin of regicide."
"Today, I will have all the people of King's Landing watch, to see with their own eyes how the blood debt that the Lannister owes the Targaryen will be repaid one by one!"
"This deep sin... how it shall be judged!"
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