Chapter 491

Using an incredible advantage of foresight and knowledge, he toyed with every opponent, effortlessly sweeping through and crushing the Seven Kingdoms and their schemes. He became the most trusted subordinate of the queen—the man behind Daenerys. By means of indoctrination, he controlled the rightful monarch of the Seven Kingdoms, ultimately establishing a new dynasty under his rule—the True Dragon Dynasty.

A flood of fantasies about a glorious future surged into his mind, nearly drowning out all other thoughts. Yet, in that very moment, Aegor faintly felt the dragon scale embedded beneath his skin grow warm. The tidal wave of daydreams was swept to the corner of his consciousness, leaving him clear-headed once again.

What was going on? Could this dragon scale clear away distractions? While it seemed beneficial, it felt rather overbearing.

Aegor frowned but knew this was no time to dwell on it. He adjusted his breathing to avoid betraying any sign of turmoil. After a brief hesitation, he chose to tread cautiously: “Thank you for your willingness to assist, but I haven’t heard anything about this from Lady R’hllor. May I ask—did she send you to help me?”

He voiced his question plainly, emphasizing his prior interaction with R’hllor to keep the greenseer in check.

If the goddess had arranged for Bran to assist him, Aegor wouldn’t hesitate to accept such a powerful ally. But something about this situation felt off.

When R’hllor had chosen him as her champion, she had informed him through dreams, clearly explaining the reasons and implications. Additionally, through fire prophecies, she made her followers aware of his divine authority. This dual communication eliminated any potential misunderstandings or disobedience, ensuring he wasn’t doubted or undermined as her representative.

R’hllor, ancient and meticulous, had always been reliable. If she had arranged for the greenseer to support him, why hadn’t she mentioned it in a dream? Was it an oversight due to urgency, or…had she not arranged it at all?

“The Lady of Light made no such request,” Bran admitted, confirming Aegor’s suspicion. “This is entirely my initiative, born from respect and admiration. You need only give the word, and all my abilities will be at your disposal—no repayment required.”

No repayment? Did he think Aegor was a fool? Anyone with sense knew “no repayment” usually meant “everything.”

Suppressing his scorn, Aegor sneered, maintaining a mask of indifference. “Such noble selflessness, Lord Greenseer. But I do have a question: when you revealed Jon’s true parentage, what exactly was your motivation?”

No one could foresee every outcome. Jon, upon learning the truth, had come to Aegor for guidance—a move that even the all-seeing greenseer hadn’t expected. While Bran could subtly influence events through subconscious suggestions, he couldn’t outright control others’ will or force actions against their desires.

The complexity and unpredictability of human behavior were eternal challenges for those who sought to manipulate it.

With a sigh, Bran remained composed as he shook his head, acknowledging his misstep without hesitation. “It was a mistake—a reckless act driven by the part of my soul that remains Bran Stark, out of love for my brother. If this has caused you trouble, please accept my apology on my behalf.”

A flawless deflection—openly admitting fault while downplaying the severity, neatly neutralizing Aegor’s accusation. Though irritated, Aegor quickly recognized the futility of pressing further. He was dealing with a “semi-immortal” whose experience and wisdom far surpassed his own. Expecting to outwit him with mere words was wishful thinking.

Realizing this, Aegor abandoned his probing and shifted focus. If Bran’s intentions weren’t unreasonable, limited cooperation could still be on the table despite past friction.

“What do you want?” Aegor decided to ask directly. “Speak honestly—convince me, and I’ll agree.”

But as he formulated the words in his mind, considering how to temper the bluntness, a sudden thought struck him.

Negotiation, mutually beneficial deals—these were the tools of a Lord Commander, a leader of men, a politician. But here, in this room, before the greenseer and the Red Priestess, he bore another identity: R’hllor’s chosen, the earthly representative of the Lord of Light.

With the unimaginable power and authority his divine patron granted, to persist in using conventional methods of diplomacy was not only lowering himself but wasting an advantage. Worse, it might expose his own insecurities.

“Spare me your talk of respect and admiration,” Aegor declared, abandoning pretense and ramping up his audacity. Locking eyes with Bran, he adopted the air of R’hllor’s champion and pressed forward. “You’re clearly hiding something from me. I don’t want to trouble Lady R’hllor over every trivial matter, so you’d best come clean. Leave nothing out—if I find even the slightest inconsistency, I’ll make sure to bring it up the next time I speak with her.”

Though empty-handed and grasping at nothing, Aegor played his bluff to perfection. This wasn’t his first time attempting to extract information through intimidation, but it was certainly his boldest—targeting the greenseer himself.

Predictably, Bran’s youthful face showed no cracks, feigning innocence and confusion at the accusation. But Aegor maintained his cold, unyielding gaze. Silence proved its strength against guilty hearts, and after half a minute of tense quiet, the greenseer relented.

Taking a deep breath as though steeling himself for something momentous, Bran turned to the third person in the room: the Red Priestess.

“I request that your follower leave. What I’m about to say is for your ears alone.”

“No,” Aegor rejected instantly. Having forced Bran’s first concession through R’hllor’s looming presence, he pressed on. “Melisandre, what the greenseer says next stays between the three of us. No word of it is to leave this room. That’s an order.”

The Red Priestess, who had been watching the “heretic” intently, turned and nodded gently. “As you command.”

And so, the three remained.

Bran’s usually expressionless face remained unreadable, but subtle changes rippled across it. His features tensed ever so slightly, betraying hints of suppressed frustration. Then, for the first time since returning from beyond the Wall, the new greenseer’s stoic mask cracked, revealing an unmistakable flicker of anger.

Had Aegor pushed him too far? Was Bran on the verge of retaliation?

The possibility of violence had Aegor tense, ready to roll away at the first sign of danger. Melisandre, ever vigilant, gathered her power to shield her chosen and smite the heretic if needed.

But the anticipated clash didn’t come. The young greenseer’s face twisted with an expression that didn’t belong to his years—animosity and bitterness not directed at Aegor. With gritted teeth, he growled under his breath, voice filled with ancient resentment:

“Millennia upon millennia, one after another, and still she won’t give me a clear answer. When will this cursed game finally end?”