The Red Keep study.
A quill dipped in ink raced across the spread-out paper, annotating, crossing out, and finally leaving a concise signature.
Sunlight slanted in from the high windows, dust motes dancing chaotically in the beams and falling upon Aegon's profile, highlighting his sharp features and his deep, reserved violet eyes.
He sat upright in a high-backed chair, reviewing various documents organized and presented by Jon Connington.
The progress of clearing the ruins of King's Landing, the disbursement of grain and pay for newly recruited soldiers, the state of reorganizations reported from local areas, and the disputes triggered by the details of the new tax system...
One by one, decrees were finalized under his pen, either approved, rejected, or sent back for further discussion.
The tip of the pen paused on a line of text.
It was an additional proposal Jon Connington had attached to the regular reports.
In the process of implementing the defense system for The Crownlands and consolidating local military power, the old general had developed a broader idea.
He requested the establishment of a 'Constabulary' system alongside the military framework, with Constabulary posts set up in major towns and even key villages.
Directly managed by the Small Council in King's Landing, it would deploy trained and salaried constables to enforce the laws of the realm across the land, no longer leaving justice to the arbitrary whims of local lords and their private trials.
In his view, this move would deter criminals and stabilize local order.
Aegon's gaze lingered on the word 'Constabulary' for a moment, his fingertips lightly tapping the paper.
The idea was feasible, aligning perfectly with his intentions to break feudal fragmentation and reshape the central order.
Jon Connington was indeed a man who could get things done.
However, there were still countless details to be hammered out—the specific structure, personnel, pay, the division of authority and responsibility with local defenses, and even how to prevent the growth of corruption; it was certainly not something to be hastily implemented with a single decree.
He wrote an annotation on the side: "Discussable. Have the Small Council draft the detailed regulations, then report back."
After setting down the pen, Aegon leaned back into his chair.
The campaign to reclaim The Crownlands had, in fact, ended.
With the total annihilation of the twenty thousand Westerlands elites Jaime Lannister had brought into The Crownlands, the campaign had long since lost any suspense.
The actions of the Ash Company and the Golden Company in recent days were merely final mopping-up operations, clearing out any remnants that might be hiding and ensuring no enemy forces could cause trouble in this land.
Now, most of the castles in The Crownlands stood empty.
The original noble families had either been eliminated by the Ash Company as military merits during their resistance, or had long since fled to the Westerlands or elsewhere upon hearing the news.
What to do with these castles had become a practical problem.
The army under his command was the main force for the Western Expedition; it was impossible to divide them to garrison dozens of castles.
To grant them all as rewards for merit was also inappropriate; not to mention that rewards must be granted progressively to encourage the army's morale, the current military merits alone were far from enough to match so many castle fiefs.
Military merit could only be earned through war.
It was time to decide on the next strategy.
"Your Highness," a guard's announcement sounded from outside the door, "The reforging of the blade Brightroar is complete. The Qohorik Master Smith requests an audience."
"Let him in."
A moment later, the study door was pushed open.
The master from Qohor bowed as he entered, cradling an oak sword box covered in dark velvet.
His expression was even more respectful than when they first met; during his time in the Red Keep, he had long since come to understand what kind of figure he was serving.
He walked to the desk, bowed, placed the sword box gently on the edge of the table, opened the latch, and lifted the lid.
There was no blinding radiance, only the cold, heavy aura of a blade quietly spreading out.
The Qohorik master stepped aside, his voice carrying the solemnity of a craftsman: "As Your Highness commanded, the blade has been reforged according to the specifications of a hand-and-a-half sword, balancing the needs of both one-handed use and two-handed striking."
"The dimensions are longer than a typical knight's sword, making it a heavy hand-and-a-half sword. The balance is well-distributed..."
Aegon did not interrupt, reaching into the box to take the sword.
The blade was slightly heavy, its weight just right.
The hilt was lengthened and wrapped in dark, non-slip leather, the binding method sophisticated and fitted to the shape of a palm.
He gave the sword a light swing with one hand; it made a steady sound as it cut through the air. With a turn of his wrist, the blade moved in response to his hand, balanced and smooth.
He looked down at the blade.
The dark patterns unique to Valyrian Steel were interwoven like ripples and clouds, casting a reserved, cold glint under the light. It was not as dazzling as new iron, but it appeared all the more lethal.
The crossguard was cast as a pair of outstretched dragon wings with sharp lines.
From the crossguard to the pommel, a relief of a flying dragon coiled around, its head standing high upon the pommel, holding a vividly colored ruby in its mouth like a drop of congealed fire, standing out exceptionally against the dark blade.
Unlike the former Brightroar, this sword was made entirely of Valyrian Steel, a seamless whole without a single trace of joining, a distillation of peak craftsmanship and rare materials.
Aegon's fingertips brushed over the cold dragon-wing crossguard, and he nodded slightly.
"Very good." He placed the sword back into the box for the moment.
The master from Qohor breathed a sigh of relief and continued his report: "Your Highness, the original Brightroar was a two-handed greatsword. Its material was sufficient to forge two ordinary longswords."
"But given Your Highness's requirement for it to be entirely of Valyrian Steel, lengthened and weighted, after the reforging, the remaining steel might only be enough to forge a small dagger, and even that would be quite a stretch."
Aegon looked up at the old man.
"Then forge it into an ornament," he said indifferently. "A Valyrian Steel pendant or a necklace. I presume you understand more than just weaponry."
The master bowed hastily: "As you command, Your Highness. Crafting an ornament is no difficult task, though it requires time and meticulous work."
Aegon nodded, his gaze falling back to the sword box.
The longsword lay quietly within, the dark patterns and red light reflecting each other; beneath the silence lay a sharpness that could tear through anything.
"This sword," the Qohorik master inquired in a timely, low voice, "should it have a new name?"
Aegon remained silent for a moment.
Abolishing feudalism, absolute royal authority, and reforging order with his own will.
The man and the blade shared a single path.
"It shall be named dictatorship."
His voice was not loud, yet it carried an unquestionable decisiveness.
The Qohorik master's body trembled slightly, and he bowed deeply: "Yes, Your Highness. dictatorship... the name is worthy of this blade."
"You have done well," Aegon said, looking at him. "A reward will be sent to your quarters. You may leave."
"Thank you for your grace, Your Highness." The master bowed, closed the sword box, but did not take it with him, instead quietly awaiting further instructions.
"Leave the sword."
"Yes." The master placed the sword box on the desk, bowed respectfully, and gently closed the door behind him.
Silence returned to the study.
Aegon's gaze lingered on the sword box for a moment before he looked toward the guard by the door.
"Go and summon Jon Connington, Laswell Peake, and the ministers of the Small Council," he ordered. "In one hour, we shall hold council in the Throne Room."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The guard took his orders and hurried away.
Aegon reached out and once more gripped the valyrian steel sword named dictatorship.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter