North of the emerald waters of the Gods Eye stands the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms—Harrenhal.
This is a castle built of fear.
Legend has it that Harren the Black, then King of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands, built this "impenetrable fortress" at the cost of countless weirwoods, stones, the lives of thousands of captives, and mortar mixed with the blood of infants.
Unfortunately, he didn't account for Aegon's dragons.
During Aegon's Conquest, Dragonflame consumed everything from the sky. Harren turned to charred bones in the highest tower, which would later be called the Kingspyre Tower.
Harrenhal lost its master.
After that, Harrenhal changed hands several times, and without exception, every family that owned it eventually became history.
People thus believed Harrenhal was cursed.
Joffrey originally thought this was just a baseless rumor. What did it matter if several families were wiped out consecutively over a few hundred years? That didn't prove anything.
But now.
Upon the vast, decaying Harrenhal, Joffrey saw a hazy, bloody hue everywhere.
Lady of Harrenhal, Shella Whent, appeared with only a dozen or so people, each one highly wary, trying their best to hide their fear of the giant beast.
The power of the rain clearly couldn't put them at ease.
"Harrenhal does not welcome strangers! Who are you? What are your intentions?! Don't think we are afraid of this monster."
These people didn't recognize the Crown Prince.
Tyrion reluctantly dismounted from the Lion's Back and walked towards the House Whent people to negotiate.
"Greetings, esteemed Lady Whent. I am Tyrion Lannister, as I'm sure you have heard."
The dwarf's stature was quite recognizable.
"The King's procession will arrive shortly. The Crown Prince and I mean no harm, we merely wished to see the majestic Harrenhal in advance. We hope House Whent will forgive us."
A dozen knights arrived on horseback.
These knights should have followed the Crown Prince closely, but their horses couldn't match the speed of the rain, so they naturally arrived a bit late.
Fortunately, it was still in time.
House Whent saw the Baratheon Stag banner and the Lannister Golden Lion Banner fluttering on their backs.
The elderly Lady Whent dispelled all her doubts.
"Esteemed Crown Prince, Lord Tyrion, this old woman was truly rude. I humbly ask our honored guests to not take offense."
Lady Whent bowed with difficulty.
She turned and instructed her subordinates, "Why aren't you hurrying back to prepare? Inform everyone, we must make sure His Majesty the King and his party feel the warmth and sincerity of House Whent."
The rain had already moved with impressive might, and Tyrion could only regretfully follow behind, stepping on the mud.
Lady Whent personally led the way for the Crown Prince on the Lion's Back.
"Your Highness has come specifically, this old woman is deeply honored. I only hope you are not disappointed when you see it."
Her face held obvious bitterness.
"Harrenhal is now nothing more than an empty ruin."
All of her children had passed away before her, Harrenhal was vast and difficult to maintain, and she herself was old and poor. The next Lady of Harrenhal was unknown. These difficulties had long since destroyed her smile.
"You are too modest. How can this be called a ruin? I don't think it's any worse than the Red Keep."
Joffrey concentrated on observing Harrenhal.
It did indeed look like a ruin. There were no strict gates or defenses, and no clear boundary between the buildings and the scattered piles of stone.
The people living inside seemed particularly small and silent, practically like vagrants in an unfinished building.
Fortunately, there was a gatehouse.
Passing through the gatehouse, as tall as the Tower of the Hand in the Red Keep, perhaps counted as officially entering the castle.
Inside, Joffrey could still see the scars of Dragonflame ravaging the castle.
All the stone walls were cracked and faded, and the repeatedly melted and cooled rock flowed everywhere like water droplets. The five towers, towering into the clouds, looked like the rough, crooked fingers of a malevolent spirit, trying to grasp people's souls.
The sight was terrifying.
Joffrey's gaze, however, seemed to be looking at something non-existent inside the stone walls.
The hazy red light covering Harrenhal wasn't bright enough, and he could directly discern the brighter, eerie patterns within the stone walls.
New runes are beckoning to me.
Joffrey confirmed another new way to obtain runes.
Buildings with mysterious ancient legends.
It was certain that The Wall and Storm's End possessed magical power. Did Winterfell?
He looked forward to the rest of his journey even more.
Night fell.
Harrenhal finally seemed a bit lively.
King Robert arrived with a large retinue, and Lady Whent respectfully invited the King and his party to stay in the Kingspyre Tower, the central structure of Harrenhal.
Despite the somewhat ominous name, King Robert happily accepted the offer.
At this moment, the Hall of a Hundred Hearths was filled with hundreds of knights and lords and thousands of servants, but it still felt somewhat empty compared to the vast space.
Joffrey was very curious why Harren the Black had built everything so large.
It was inconvenient to live in, and the environment wasn't good enough.
It seemed as if it was specifically built to awe people with how such an unprecedentedly massive castle could be destroyed like a toy by dragons.
But deep down, he was actually quite envious.
Honestly, bigger is better.
His own Red Keep was nice, but its area was only a few hundred thousand square meters.
Not to mention comparing it to the imperial palaces of his previous life, even in Westeros, castles like Harrenhal and Winterfell were larger than the Red Keep.
How could he tolerate this?
He set another ambitious goal for himself: to build a dream palace that would be unprecedented and unmatched.
It should at least be as large as the current King's Landing.
King's Landing.
King's Landing.
Joffrey looked at King Robert with a complicated expression.
The King, reeking of alcohol, was embracing a serving girl and boasting about his past glorious deeds to the surrounding noble knights.
Every minute, every moment, every time he saw King Robert, every time he thought of the schemers in the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey knew how dangerous his situation was.
He could plot how to kill the King without hesitation.
He faced this world with a new soul and naturally did not accept the constraints of any relationships. People and things that were beneficial could be acknowledged; those that were not could be treated as enemies.
Moreover, King Robert's concern for his son was not adequate; there was not much affection to speak of in their interactions these past few days.
And without Robert, it was very important to him.
Aside from the ethereal curse of kinslaying, there was no reason for Joffrey to hesitate or even give up.
Speaking of which, if there was no blood relation, would it still count as kinslaying?
Joffrey didn't care.
He had made up his mind; he would not waver, he would not torment himself.
Father. I will call you Father one last time from the bottom of my heart.
I am going to kill you.
You have named me Prince of Dragonstone, so I will make you happy one more time.
You like grand spectacles, don't you?
I have brought a piece of music that I really like to this world.
It was called "The King's Arrival" there; now its name is "King's Landing".
I originally planned to save it for my own coronation.
Now I give it to you.
Your name will be linked to it.
Be happy.
Let me offer you a gift with the music of "King's Landing".
To send you off.
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