Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 3: A New Player in the Game of Thrones

The Red Keep.

Dusk approached.

The prince and his party returned laden with spoils.

Joffrey, astride his horse and clutching a birdcage, surveyed the passing convoy with an air of smugness, as if he alone had bagged all the game.

Bolstered by the memories of his predecessor, his behavior was indistinguishable from the arrogant, willful brat he had always been.

The political vortex was fraught with countless dangers.

Joffrey understood that he needed to lie low and bide his time, maintaining his image as a foolish, harmless boy.

Until four or five months from now.

To kill the king, then thoroughly cleanse King's Landing…

"My dear prince, hunting is such a perilous activity. To embark without so much as a word beforehand… the queen was beside herself with worry."

The master of whisperers, "Varys the Spider," had materialized from seemingly nowhere.

The bald, portly eunuch, clad in a voluminous violet robe, exuded a cloying, powdery scent that invariably inspired a sense of revulsion.

Ah, I've been expecting you.

Joffrey waved his hand dismissively in front of his nose a few times, then pointed to Tyrion beside him.

"It's all my uncle's fault. A mere piece of information, yet he insisted I bring him to the Kingswood to hunt before he'd reveal it."

"Besides, don't stand so close, Spider."

Varys obediently retreated a few paces. "Indeed? Such a troublesome secret. I trust the prince is satisfied?"

Tyrion put on an exaggerated expression.

"Need you even ask? Had the esteemed Prince Joffrey not been appeased, would I still be standing here in one piece?"

Varys merely gazed at the prince obsequiously.

"Look at the snow bunting in this cage, hopping about so merrily, ha ha ha."

Varys plastered on a smile. "Indeed, how amusing."

"By the way," Joffrey said, tossing the birdcage aside. "Where are Father and Mother?"

"Tomorrow is my twelfth nameday. I've conceived of a singular gift. Dragon eggs! Ha! You've never seen them, have you!"

Varys chimed in with effusive agreement. "Oh, my! Truly a rare treasure. Who could be so fortunate as to behold such a marvel?"

Joffrey's face darkened. "Hmph, some people get to see them every day! It's a… whatchamacallit… governor…"

Without needing to be told, Tyrion knew his cue had arrived.

"A governor of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis. He possesses three dragon eggs, perfectly suited as gifts for the three princes and princesses."

Joffrey pursed his lips.

Anyone could tell that he had no intention of sharing the gift with his younger siblings.

Varys retreated a few more steps.

"Forgive my poor memory, how remiss of me. I almost forgot to enlighten you."

"While our valiant king is still inspecting the city, you need only proceed to the Queen's Ballroom, where you are sure to find the queen's captivating smile."

"I wish you every success in your endeavor."

Joffrey immediately yanked on the reins and steered his horse toward Maegor's Holdfast.

Tyrion hastily followed. According to the plan, he still had to endure Cersei's glares and probing questions.

The Spider, however, did not persist.

He, too, had secured his own "prey."

…

Passing through the dry moat and the twelve-foot-thick walls, one arrived at the heart 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, infinitely indulgent of her children, knew not how to refuse, especially her most beloved eldest son.

Tyrion did his utmost to parry his sister's barbed remarks and insistent inquiries, assuring her that the three dragon eggs truly existed, but refusing to divulge the source of his information.

Joffrey merely needed to cease his struggles and allow Cersei to badger him.

In less than half an hour, the satisfied queen relented, ordering the master of coin, "Littlefinger," to oversee the matter with all due diligence, sparing no expense.

From that moment on, Daenerys's storyline was irrevocably altered.

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 a member of the Kingsguard.

Seeing this, Joffrey understood that Tyrion was about to confront the truth about Tysha.

Love and hate, humanity's eternal accompaniment.

He raised his head to gaze at the towering Hand's Tower.

Several days ago, Lord Tywin Lannister had arrived in the capital with a large entourage, preparing to attend Prince Joffrey's nameday tourney tomorrow.

He was currently residing in the Hand's Tower.

Would Tyrion reenact the kinslaying scene from the Hand's Tower of the original story?

Returning to his bedchamber, Joffrey dismissed his servants, languidly lay down on the bed, and gazed at the ceiling, letting his mind wander.

A full day of scheming and running about inevitably left one mentally and physically exhausted.

Despite this, Joffrey knew he could not afford to relax. Compared to his life, a little hardship was nothing.

He had a clear understanding of his perilous situation.

In a few months, the chaos that would engulf the entire continent and even the world would begin.

He was intent on preventing it.

But even if the king were to die tomorrow, and he were to don the crown on the spot, he would still be powerless.

Whether there would be peace or turmoil depended on the degree of conflict and tension among the various strata of the Seven Kingdoms, not on a good king alone.

He knew full well that 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 Eastern and Western Zhou dynasties, nominally ruled the Seven Kingdoms.

But the area and population of the Crownlands directly under his control were less than a tenth of the total of the Seven Kingdoms.

In most of the lands under the dynasty, the direct rulers were the various vassal forces, headed by the dukes of the Seven Kingdoms.

Beneath one Iron Throne were many independent forces, playing a never-ending game of thrones.

There was no middle ground in this game; one was either a winner or faced certain death.

The struggle for supremacy.

He was a deer, and also a player.

And he only had a bad hand: no confidants, no money, no power, no reputation, no army. His only advantage was the title of crown prince, which also carried the risk of detonating at any time.

What was worse, the rules of the game had become more cruel and violent.

Etiquette and music were collapsing, and strength was paramount.

In a few short years, the dukes and great lords of the Seven Kingdoms, overseas powers, wildlings beyond the Wall, and even monsters such as the Others would all stake their entire fortunes on gambling and slaughtering each other.

Joffrey was undoubtedly the most conspicuous target.

If he could not win this game, even if he did not die from a poisoned cup as in the original story, he would sooner or later meet some other unexpected death.

Of course, in addition to the spur of danger, the enormous benefits were also an important driving force.

Three dragon eggs that could hatch were enough to drive countless people mad. Yet he could obtain them with just a day's effort.

There were many similar opportunities.

The fruit was too tempting; how could anyone resist taking action?

The light grew dimmer, and the intricate patterns on the ceiling gradually faded, leaving Joffrey a blurry shadow.

He got up and walked to the window, admiring the evening scenery of the Red Keep.

The clouds in the sky were layered, red like fire.

The Red Keep, built of crimson stone, was also stained with red light, seeming brighter, yet also darker.

The soldiers on duty in the corridors and on the ground were inserting torches and lighting braziers everywhere, preparing for the night patrol.

The castle scene, reminiscent of a medieval film, constantly reminded him that he had crossed over to another world.

An epic and magical world, his own real world.

How to smoothly control the capital city of King's Landing within half a year and eliminate internal hidden dangers?

He stood there in a daze for a long time.

By the time he came back to his senses, the moon was already in the sky.

Looking up at the bright moon, he made a decision.

The new life was bound to be dangerous and exciting. The future would be busy.

He would cherish the memory of that world one last time. After tonight, he would live fully and freely in the present.

The night was getting thicker and cooler.

He changed into silk pajamas, poured a glass of Dornish red wine, and leaned against the window to look out.

A toast to the moon.

It was similar to the Moon Palace there, so cold and so round.

A toast to the stars.

The starry sky. Were they also worlds…

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