Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 433: Selection of the King's Hand

Dragon Nest City, Silver Blood Tower.

The black iron candlesticks cast dim flames on the stone wall, lengthening the shadows of the Vareses gathered here, like an ancient dragon whispering on the stone wall. Igor sat at the head of the long table, his hands folded and resting on his chin, as if thinking about something.

"Osiris." Igor's voice was as low as thunder from the ground, echoing in the silent hall.

Othiris Vareses raised his head slightly. He was the most low-key male of the third generation of the Vareses family. Although he was not as proficient in medicine and dragon fighting as Damion, nor as well-read as Sebastian, nor as young and vigorous as Regen's children, his deep purple eyes were just as sharp, with a calmness that came from years of baptism.

He is the one who is best at getting along with everyone among the three generations of Varese, and is completely different from the reckless person he was when he was young.

"Father is old." Igor said slowly, "Although the black blood fever did not take his life, it took away his energy. King's Landing needs new hunters. Oser, it's your turn to draw the hunting bow."

Osiris did not respond immediately, but gently stroked the silver dragon laurel leaf emblem engraved on the table.

"If I'm not mistaken, my father should be entrusting Bran to reorganize the Royal Council." He finally spoke, his voice calm but with a sharp edge that could not be ignored. "Even if he is Aunt Serena's adopted son, Igor, can you guarantee that Bran will remain loyal to the Varese family?"

"Bran has no loyalty, Other," Igor said firmly. "If he were loyal to us, it would be a mistake for him."

Dan Varese nodded in the corner. "We don't need a loyal blood crow, Oser. Bran will only consider the overall situation and how to maximize benefits."

Igor's eyes swept across like a knife: "That's why Osiris is the most suitable one."

Osiris nodded in understanding; he knew what to do.

After the meeting, Joniel and Luthris stopped Igor.

Jonniel grinned, "Uncle, let me and Luthris go to King's Landing. We will make sure to bring Grandpa back safely."

Lusiris also echoed: "Yeah, Dragon Nest City is so boring now that even the dragons are too lazy to fight."

Igor glanced at them coldly: "Do you think we are going to participate in the martial arts competition?"

Lusiris shrugged: "It's better than counting bricks here."

"No." Igor refused bluntly, "Osiris is enough alone, I don't need you to make trouble."

Lusiris wanted to argue, but was held back by Jonniel. They knew Igor's temper too well. Once he made a decision, no one could change it unless he chose to change it himself.

"Then at least let us give Osiris a ride?" Jonniel compromised.

Igor was silent for a moment, and finally nodded: "Okay. But come back after you send me to the Blackwater River, and don't cause any trouble for me."

At the same time, in the Red Keep in King's Landing, Brynden stood at the window of the Prime Minister's Tower, staring at the dragon's lair in the distance with his one eye. His adoptive mother Serena once told him: "Dragons and crows are both black, but dragons burn themselves to illuminate others, while crows only circle over death."

"Sir." A servant reported in a low voice, "The ravens from Dragon's Nest City have arrived."

Blood Crow unfolded the letter and the corners of his mouth rose slightly.

"Othiris Vareses." He murmured the name softly, as if savoring its meaning.

He knew that Lingol's abdication meant the end of an era. And he, a "crow" raised by Varese, had to ensure that the transition of power would not cause a new storm. "Prepare to welcome the new prime minister." He ordered his attendants, his voice calm but unquestionable, "In the name of the king and the prime minister."

Inside the dragon's lair, a piece of parchment was spread out on the oak table on the bed, the ink still wet. Ringol lay on the bed, tapping the parchment lightly with his pale fingers. His face was more haggard than before. Although the black blood fever did not take his life, it carved deeper grooves on his face.

Brynden stood beside him, looking down, waiting for Ringol's response.

"Harwin Redwyne, Alan Tully, Harry Florentine," Ringol slowly read out the names on the list, his voice hoarse but still majestic, "You made a good choice."

Blood Crow raised his lips slightly: "Although Redwyne is a heavy drinker, he has rich experience in naval battles. The fleet of the Redwyne family also undertakes a heavy transportation task. The little guy of the Velaryon family is too young, and I can't follow the tradition; Tarly is young, but his iron-fisted approach is exactly what King's Landing needs now; as for Florence..."

"He knows how to calculate better than the patterns on the gold coins." Lingol continued, with a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

The well-behaved Harry won trust by severing his own bloodline, but after surviving the black blood fever, he no longer had the ability to continue his bloodline.

Brynden chuckled. "It seems I haven't forgotten what Lady Serena taught me."

Lingol's eyes softened for a moment: "She has always been proud of you."

That night, Alan Tarly, the new Lord of Horn Hill, was summoned to the dragon's lair alone. The "Little Hunter" had become famous for strictly enforcing quarantine orders during the plague. When he walked into the room, his eagle-like eyes quickly scanned the surroundings. Ringol sat by the fire, and the fire stretched his shadow very long.

"Sir." Alan knelt on one knee, his voice steady.

"Get up, kid." Ringol pointed to the chair opposite, "Sit down."

Alan sat with his back straight, as if ready to draw his sword at any moment, just like his father. Ringol appreciated the alertness, but his next words made young Tully frown slightly.

"Brynden chose you not only because of your ability, but also because of your loyalty." The old Prime Minister said in a low voice, "Some people in King's Landing have always believed that Brynden is a member of the Varese family and that he is helping Varese to erode the foundation of the Targaryen family. Although these people have stopped their activities after the Blackfyre Rebellion, as long as the Varese family and Brynden control the Royal Council, such voices will not stop. Arlan, you are the target of such voices."

Alan's mouth tightened: "I don't care about gossip."

"But you must care, and you must pay attention." Ringol suddenly leaned forward, "Because those idle words can turn into daggers, just like the sudden outbreak of the Blackfyre Rebellion, understand?"

The fire from the fireplace flickered in Ringol's purple eyes. At that moment, Alan seemed to see the shadow of Xingge hovering over Dragon's Nest City.

"I understand, Your Highness." He nodded solemnly, "I won't make the same mistake again."

Ringol leaned back and exhaled with satisfaction. "Very good. Now go, Lord Justice, the prison in King's Landing is waiting for you to clean it up."

When Arlan left, Brynden stepped out of the shadows, a complex light flashing in his one eye.

"You don't have to protect me like this, Uncle Ringol," he said softly, "I can handle those poisonous snakes."

Ringol coughed a few times, and a faint silver light seeped out from between his fingers. "When Melissa handed you over to Serena, you were just that small." He compared your height, "Even dragons didn't dare to approach you. Now, you have grown into a pillar of the kingdom. Bran, don't forget that the long summer lasts forever."

Brynden was silent for a long time. Finally, he knelt on one knee and took the old man's skinny hand. "Uncle Ringol, I swear by blood and fire that the long summer will last forever."

Outside the window, Xingge's roar could be heard faintly, as if witnessing this trust spanning two generations.

(End of this chapter)