'Are you arresting a criminal?'
Count Owen stepped forward.
Seeing that Prince Daeron had been drawn by the commotion, he naturally aimed to please.
The two Gold Cloaks promptly stopped and answered.
'My lord, he's a smuggler; the cargo's aboard the boat.'
'A smuggler?'
Count Owen gave Davos a once-over, then went to inspect the goods in the black-sailed skiff.
Several sacks of onions and beef shanks.
Davos hurriedly said, 'My lord, these are just provisions I bought for my family, absolutely not... contraband.'
When the word 'contraband' was spoken, his plain face tensed as though he had truly been wronged.
'Don't play innocent!'
One of the Gold Cloaks raised a hand as if to strike.
Count Owen waved him off and reasoned eloquently, 'Hundreds of pounds of onions and more than fifty kilos of beef—how big is your family that you could finish all this?'
'Or could an honest fisherman afford so much beef in one go?'
He might be treated like a fool, but that didn't mean he actually was one.
'My lord...'
Davos tried to argue further, but a Gold Cloak roughly gagged him.
Had their superior not been present, they'd have beaten him to the ground already.
When Daeron saw the man's plea fail, he stepped forward.
Count Owen, eager to claim credit, said, 'Your Grace, a lying smuggler caught red-handed.'
Daeron gave a slight nod.
A small sailboat carrying that much cargo was obviously smuggling to any observer.
Ordinary folk couldn't afford beef.
'Mmmph—!'
Seeing the young prince in person, Davos whimpered excitedly, desperate to salvage the situation.
Talk about bad luck—smuggling usually went off without a hitch.
Today hadn't even been intentional; he'd simply come back from sea and picked up some goods to resell on the side.
Who'd have thought the Gold Cloaks would nab him in the act?
Daeron ordered, 'Remove the gag.'
He still needed to confirm whether this was the man he thought.
'Thank you, my lord.'
Once freed, Davos caught his breath and composed himself as best he could.
Daeron looked him up and down. 'That would be "Your Grace" if we observe courtesy.'
'Forgive me, Your Grace.'
Davos corrected himself at once.
Daeron asked, 'What is your name?'
'Er...'
Davos hadn't expected the prince to ask, then blurted, 'Davos—Davos Seaworth, Your Grace.'
Just then a Gold Cloak rummaged out a wooden box from the skiff.
'Your Grace, that box is a gift for my children.'
Seeing it, Davos panicked.
The Gold Cloak ignored him, opened the lid, and revealed a white-and-bluish yam.
'A special wild plant!'
The guard's face changed; he presented it to the prince at once.
The radish-shaped yam, small and faintly cool, was indeed a special crop.
Daeron exclaimed, 'A snow yam.'
stardew valley had season-specific forageables, snow yams being winter's.
This Life Force-laden root matched the one he remembered.
'I'm done for.'
Davos's vision darkened in despair.
How could anyone be this unlucky?
Daeron pocketed the box, untied his purse and tossed it to the two Gold Cloaks to share.
As for Davos Seaworth—'Fine name; it's brought me luck.'
He praised, then ordered, 'Lock him up; I'll question him myself later.'
'Yes, Your Grace.'
The two Gold Cloaks barked, full of vigor as they hauled their prisoner away.
Davos was shoved along.
When luck deserts you, even cold water sticks in your teeth.
Fresh from the King's Landing purge, the City Watch was spread thin between Cobblers Square and Silk Street, leaving the Mud Gate neglected.
Count Owen had only brought two Gold Cloaks while showing Daeron the boats.
By sheer chance they netted Davos.
'Onion Knight—what a coincidence!'
Daeron's lips curled.
Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, was among the most beloved characters: just, wise, tenacious, loyal yet no mere sycophant—a great talent.
To be safe, Daeron added, 'My lord, that smuggler's an old sailor; he'll be useful for ship repairs.'
'Very well.'
Though puzzled, Count Owen complied.
Carrying the snow-yam box, Daeron strolled off, humming a cheery hops tune that showed his mood had lifted.
King's bedchamber.
'Haha, well done!'
Aerys, hair disheveled, lounged in a rumpled robe, laughing triumphantly.
He had already heard of his Second Son's exploits: slaughtering the leeches of the City Watch who'd fattened themselves on the iron throne, then ordering the City Watch to sweep two districts and rescue hordes of innocent children.
Magnificent work!
Count Chesd, who had delivered the report, had left; only two figures remained.
Ser Gerold stood guard over the king.
The loyal white knight wore a complicated expression, silent and unmoving.
Prince Daeron's intentions were good, but letting Gold Cloaks run rampant against criminals would send shockwaves through the populace and the lords.
Never mind the rest, The Red Keep's dungeons were already packed—a dangerous sign.
Varys frowned, waiting on the other side of the bed.
Summoned by the king for intelligence, he watched Aerys's wild delight with deep dismay, unwilling to waste a word.
The realm could not be destroyed now.
'In the end, I must choose an heir,' Varys lamented inwardly.
Aerys, caring nothing for others, crowed, 'Send for Daeron; his king wants him.'
Varys withdrew as though granted a pardon.
Noon, 12:30.
Daeron left the king's bedchamber and exhaled slowly.
Fooling a royal father was hard; fooling one with a mind unhinged was harder still.
'Your Grace, His Majesty has fallen asleep.'
Ser Gerold emerged, gently closing the door.
'My thanks, Ser; you've had a hard time.'
'My duty.'
The White Bull hesitated, then drew out a sealed letter. 'Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar bade me give you this.'
'My brother?'
Daeron started, broke the seal and read.
This time the hand was not his sister-in-law Elia Martell's; the style was terse.
In short: Rhaegar had just returned from overseas to Dragonstone; earlier, having received no reply, his wife Elia feared harming fraternal harmony and answered for him.
Now Rhaegar was back and wrote personally, inviting Daeron to the island.
'Just as I thought.'
The familiar feeling returned.
Daeron wondered why Rhaegar had gone overseas—he'd never heard of such a journey before—but with the Red Comet arriving early, nothing seemed strange anymore.
He shot Ser Gerold an odd glance.
So the stalwart 'White Bull' Gerold Hightower was secretly in league with Rhaegar all along.
No wonder during the War of the Usurper the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard obeyed Rhaegar's order to go to the Tower of Joy and protect the she-wolf Lyanna.