Kapitel 44: Upon Seeing a Prince, Why Not Kneel
The midday sun shone brightly.
Aemon stepped out of the tower, intending to report to his mother about his progress.
In the spacious hall, a voice filled with indignation echoed.
Geral Royce, a middle-aged man with graying whiskers, stood clad in a leather-backed bronze cuirass. His stern visage made him look every bit the stubborn traditionalist he was.
"Lady Rhea, do you truly intend to let that boy inherit Runestone?" Geral asked, his voice laced with disbelief as though the very suggestion was blasphemous.
Lady Rhea, seated calmly and polishing an ornate longsword, replied without looking up, "Cousin, he is my son."
"And also his son!" Geral exclaimed, his frustration mounting. "Your husband returned from the Stepstones only to retreat to Dragonstone. He doesn't care about you, nor about House Royce!"
Lady Rhea's expression turned icy. "I have no need for an incompetent husband. Aemon is my son and heir, and that is all that matters."
Deep down, she wouldn't mind hearing that Daemon had met his end—whether cut down by an enemy or collapsing on some wench's belly.
But slander against her son? That was something she would never tolerate.
Geral flinched at her icy tone but pressed on. "There are better options."
"Who?" Rhea sneered, setting down her sword and fixing her cousin with a pointed glare. "You? Or my unwed cousin?"
"I…" Geral faltered, stammering as he struggled for words.
Years ago, when their uncle Yorbert chose Rhea as heir to Runestone, there had been several candidates among their kin. Geral, as the eldest male cousin, had believed himself the obvious choice.
But Uncle Yorbert bypassed them all, selecting Rhea for her sharp wit and decisiveness.
She had proved worthy of the title, running Runestone with strength and competence.
Seeing Geral's inability to respond, Rhea lost her patience. "Go back home, cousin," she said coldly.
"But—" Geral tried again.
"Tell the others to abandon their ambitions," she interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade. "I will not yield an inch."
Her resolute stance shattered any hope Geral might have held.
He stood there, stunned and struggling to think of a rebuttal.
At that moment—
"Mother!"
Aemon entered with a bright smile, his youthful energy filling the room.
Both Rhea and Geral turned toward the source of the voice.
Geral's spirits lifted slightly, seeing the boy as a potential weak link.
Rhea, however, narrowed her eyes at her cousin, sensing his renewed scheming.
What had these fools promised him to make him the ringleader of this opposition?
"Were you two chatting?" Aemon asked innocently, his gaze lingering on Geral.
Geral stiffened, managing only a perfunctory nod as acknowledgment. It was barely courteous and certainly not respectful.
Aemon smirked inwardly. A fool who doesn't know his place.
"Why aren't you in the tower for your lessons?" Rhea asked, her tone brusque. She eyed the two men standing behind her son—Ser Steffon, who nodded politely, and Gonsor, who remained as nonchalant as ever.
Before Aemon could respond, Rhea cut him off, turning to Geral. "Cousin, it's time for you to leave."
She didn't want Aemon to witness such petty squabbles.
But Geral, still unwilling to give up, exclaimed, "If you let a Targaryen inherit Runestone, what will happen to the Royce name?"
"I am the Countess of Runestone, and the Royce name is none of your concern," Rhea retorted.
"I am also a member of House Royce. I have every right to worry about our family's future!" Geral argued, pointing accusingly at Aemon.
"You're his mother," Geral pressed on. "How can you make such an emotional decision and risk our family's legacy on a whim?"
Rhea's gaze turned glacial, her displeasure palpable.
Geral's words lacked all tact, but it was clear his thoughts were consumed by the potential loss of Runestone to Targaryen control.
"I object—"
"Ser Geral Royce," Aemon interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through Geral's tirade. "May I ask what authority you have to make these statements?"
He couldn't stand by and let someone disparage his mother without defending her.
"I speak as a Royce," Geral replied curtly.
Aemon locked eyes with him and continued, "Earlier, I overheard you mention my father. May I ask, has he ever wronged you or done anything detrimental to House Royce?"
Geral hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for an answer.
In truth, Daemon Targaryen had paid Geral little mind, his visits to Runestone infrequent. The most grievous offense Geral could think of was Daemon's derisive nickname for Rhea: "Bronze Bitch."
"Another question," Aemon pressed. "As my mother's son, do I not carry half the blood of House Royce within me?"
"Of course," Geral admitted reluctantly.
"Then my father has done you no wrong, and I am undeniably a part of this family," Aemon said, his voice calm but unyielding.
Suddenly, he drew his bronze short sword, the blade glinting ominously. Pointing it at Geral's waist, he declared, "My claim comes from my mother. It has the King's approval. How dare you question it?"
Geral stumbled backward, startled by the blade's sudden appearance.
"You're a Targaryen!" Geral exclaimed. "If you inherit Runestone, it will be like a cuckoo stealing a nest!"
Before Aemon could respond, the hall doors burst open.
"Your Highness!"
Ser William entered, sweating profusely and holding a rolled-up banner. "The craftsmen have finished it. You must see it!"
Aemon glanced at Geral before smirking. "Unfurl it here."
William hesitated, sensing the tense atmosphere, but obeyed.
With a flourish, the banner was unfurled.
The design immediately drew gasps.
Split into two equal halves, the left side bore a deep orange background with white stripes adorned with black runes and pebbles, a nod to House Royce's sigil.
The right side was simpler: a black field bearing the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen.
The colors complemented each other perfectly, the designs unified yet distinct. The banner radiated a sense of balance and strength.
Rhea's eyes widened, and even Geral looked shaken.
"A divided banner," Rhea murmured, recognizing its symbolism: a union of two houses.
Gonsor grabbed the flag and held it before Rhea.
Rhea studied it carefully before turning to Geral. "Well, cousin? Have you anything more to say?"
Geral stood frozen, his mind reeling.
"If you're out of words, I am not," Aemon said, stepping forward. "You've made reckless accusations. Do you understand the gravity of your actions?"
"I—Your Highness—I…" Geral stammered, cold sweat pouring down his face.
"You remember I am a prince, then?" Aemon tilted his head, his tone mocking.
Geral's lips quivered, but no sound came out.
Aemon's expression softened into a chilling smile. "In honor of this banner, I will forgive you."
Relief flickered across Geral's face, but it was short-lived.
"However," Aemon continued, his voice dropping menacingly, "if you see a prince, why do you not kneel?"
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein