Rhaenyra never doubted whether Baelon’s ideas would work.
Her little brother had been frighteningly clever since he was small.
So she left in high spirits, planning to go to Viserys first and accept the position of heir, then find Daemon.
Watching her back disappear through the doorway, Baelon felt a complicated swirl of emotions.
People have feelings.
Even someone who crossed over into this world can’t stay completely detached.
I just hope my arrival can change a few fates for the better.
He let out a soft sigh and called toward the door.
“Ser Cole, come in.”
Cole entered quickly and stood silently at the foot of the bed.
He made no move to get closer.
Baelon didn’t mind the cool distance.
He smiled and asked, “Ser Cole, how do you see me?”
Cole looked startled and hesitated.
Baelon pressed him.
“Don’t forget the oath you just swore. I’m ordering you to tell me the truth.”
For some reason, facing this child who couldn’t even get out of bed, Cole felt an unexpected tension.
He took a deep breath and answered as carefully as he could.
“A clever prince. A sickly dragon king.”
Baelon gave a quiet laugh.
“And how do you feel about the white cloak on your back?”
Cole’s eyes dropped to the cloak without thinking.
“It’s all I have. More important than my life.”
Baelon had clearly expected the answer.
He gestured for Cole to come closer.
Cole stepped to the bedside and bent down.
Baelon reached out and caught the edge of the white cloak that hung naturally from his shoulders.
“Then guard it well,” Baelon said softly.
“Don’t let even a speck of dust touch it. I’ll stand with you. All right?”
Cole stayed bent over, frozen in place as if he hadn’t understood.
Baelon gently let go.
“From now on you’re my hands and feet. Here’s to a good partnership.”
In the next instant Cole’s eyes turned red.
He straightened so fast his armor clinked.
Baelon watched the man’s obvious emotion and felt both satisfaction and a touch of amusement inside.
People raised in this world really are simple.
Honor above everything.
“A man dies for the one who knows his worth.” That old saying still works perfectly here.
While the thought ran through his head, Baelon picked up a rolled bundle of papers from beside his pillow and handed it to Cole.
“Ser Cole, this is your first task from me.”
Cole took the papers and unrolled them.
The first sheet showed a chair with wheels and various diagrams.
He looked at Baelon in confusion.
“Take it to a carpenter. Have him build it exactly to the measurements and design on the page. This is how I’ll move around from now on. Make sure it’s sturdy.”
Cole nodded and turned to the second sheet.
Baelon continued.
“This is a new home for Ignir, built in the Red Keep courtyard. Give it to a stonemason. Use volcanic stone for everything—Ignir likes the smell of it.”
Cole agreed and flipped to the third page.
His eyes widened at the detailed drawings of arrows, mechanisms, and parts.
Baelon’s expression grew serious.
“This last one goes to a blacksmith you trust completely. Every measurement must be followed to the letter. Not a fraction off.”
“Once the parts are finished, bring them back. You and I will assemble it ourselves. Best if no one else even knows it exists.”
“This thing is called a repeating crossbow. It’s going to keep us both alive.”
Cole’s face tightened.
He nodded hard.
When he had finished explaining the designs, Baelon changed the subject.
“About the cost—the wheelchair and the crossbow come out of my own funds.”
“The money for Ignir’s courtyard shelter, you’ll get from Otto Hightower. Tell him my father approved it. If he refuses or drags his feet, don’t argue. Just come back and tell me.”
“When you go to him, be arrogant. Quote a high price. Try to push him into refusing.”
Cole looked puzzled but nodded anyway.
He rolled the papers back up and left the room.
Rhaenyra moved fast when it came to getting rid of Otto Hightower.
That same evening, right after Baelon finished dinner, she arrived with Daemon.
Compared to Aegon, the son Alicent had given Viserys, Daemon clearly felt far more affection for his brother’s eldest boy—the one who carried their father’s name.
He strode into the room, completely ignoring the watchful Ignir, and scooped Baelon off the bed in one smooth motion.
“Hey, kid. Been a while. Your sister says you’ve got something important to tell me?”
Baelon had long since grown used to Daemon’s rough affection.
He settled comfortably in the crook of his uncle’s arm and looked up into those sharp eyes.
“Uncle Daemon, Father is about to announce that my sister will be his heir. What do you think about that?”
Daemon’s expression stiffened for a heartbeat before smoothing out.
“What I think doesn’t concern you. You’re still a child.”
“Will you leave King’s Landing because of it?”
Daemon rubbed Baelon’s head hard.
“I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or grateful. Those bastard Seven really couldn’t give you a body that matches that brain of yours, could they?”
“Since you brought it up, I’ll talk to you about it.”
“The truth is, your condition, your sister becoming heir, and Aegon’s birth… all of it already pushed me far away from that seat. If you could run around the yard like a normal child, I probably would have left already.”
“You guessed right. Once the lords come to King’s Landing and swear their oaths to your sister, I’ll be leaving.”
“House Velaryon is locked in a nasty fight with the Crabfeeder in the Narrow Sea. I’ve decided to go help them. Do something useful on a battlefield for once.”
Baelon nodded.
“King’s Landing really isn’t the right place for you anymore.”
“But if I have a way to drive Otto Hightower out, things might change. Would you stay and help me and my sister?”
“Drive Otto out?” Daemon looked down at him with amused disbelief.
“You really are too clever for your own good, kid. But you don’t know your father very well.”
Baelon shook his head.
“I know him. And I’m confident I can do this.”
“My sister and I just don’t have the right people yet. We need your help.”
“There’s no downside for you whether it works or not. Why not give it a try?”
Daemon studied the small, utterly confident boy with growing interest.
“All right. Tell me your plan.”
“As the great lord of Flea Bottom, finding someone from House Hightower—or one of Otto’s secret men—here in King’s Landing shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Daemon flicked Baelon’s nose.
“You little brat. Daring to joke about your own uncle.”
“It wouldn’t be hard for me. Otto’s never liked me, and I’ve been watching him for just as long. But once I find the man, then what?”
Baelon didn’t soften his words.
“Lure him here. Or kill him and bring me the body.”
“I just told Father I’m worried people from House Hightower want to harm me. If I’m attacked right now and the assassin has ties to the Hightowers, do you really think Otto will still be able to stay on as Hand?”
Daemon’s eyes sharpened with sudden interest.
“I’ll find the man fast and bring him to you.”
Baelon shook his head.
“No, Uncle. Not yet. Once you have him, wait for my signal.”
“Wait until Otto personally tells my father to send Ignir to the Dragonpit. Wait until he starts disagreeing with Father about naming the heir. Wait until Father is good and tired of him.”