Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Chosen

That night, Joffrey gently swirled the crystal glass in his hand.

Under the candlelight, the liquid inside shimmered with a warm, amber-colored luster, like honey.

"It's just diarrhea, it won't kill you."

He silently recited the mantra in his mind, then drank the contents of the cup in one gulp.

The first sensation upon tasting it was an exquisite smoothness, followed by an explosive burst of rich fruity aroma that instantly filled his mouth.

After swallowing, it leaves a lingering floral fragrance, sweet and clean, making you want to have another bite.

After putting the cup aside, Joffrey subconsciously tensed his abdomen, waiting for the anticipated cramping pain.

Thirty heartbeats, sixty heartbeats...

He stood up and jumped around a few times, but felt no abnormality in his body.

Joffrey's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, suddenly settled, turning into a burning excitement.

"Come on, let's change to a larger cup!"

He poured himself several more glasses to celebrate.

It seems that this skill does not only cover poison in the narrow sense, but also seems to work on all substances that harm his body.

According to the Hound, he only sprinkled that small packet of laxative into Sir Boros Braun's stew this morning.

This Imperial Guard went to the outhouse more than ten times in one day, and his face was so pale that it was almost the same color as his cloak.

In comparison, Joffrey used three times the dosage on himself.

The result was as easy as drinking a beverage.

In this way, he would no longer have to worry about someone poisoning his wine and assassinating him.

Moreover, unlike the Red Woman who had to use magic to fight back, Joffrey's ability was entirely passive, protecting him at all times.

If there is any regret, it is that he will never again experience the feeling of being slightly tipsy or drunk.

However, he also needs to adapt to a lifestyle where he drinks alcohol like water.

In high spirits, Joffrey opened a thick book and began to copy the words on paper.

It was that huge book about genealogy and history, recording the weddings, funerals, celebrations, and bloodline inheritance of the nobles of the seven kingdoms.

It was from here that Jon Arryn discovered that Robert's three Baratheon children actually had Lannister blond hair and green eyes.

But the first to become suspicious was Robert's younger brother, Stannis.

After all, he had seen many of Robert's illegitimate children, and without exception, they all had black hair. This book merely provides authoritative corroboration.

Therefore, since it is an authoritative body, there is much to be done about it.

"Black hair...blonde hair..."

Joffrey focused intently, trying his best to imitate the handwriting in the book.

Whether in the steward's study or the library beneath the towering tower, wherever there is civilization, there are scholars nurtured by the old town's academic city.

They are scholars, doctors, teachers, and consultants, and they hold knowledge in a reverence that is not to be profaned.

They were also required to remain politically neutral and not get involved in family disputes.

Paisell clearly violated the last point.

As Tywin Lannister's henchman, the Lannisters wouldn't have been able to so easily breach the gates of King's Landing fifteen years ago without his advice.

However, as a top scholar, he was also highly skilled in recording and preservation.

Naturally, they also possess the knowledge to tamper with data.

Paisell possessed a potion that could erase the original writing and allow for the rewriting of forgeries using specially formulated ink.

But the old man was not tight-lipped, and Joffrey was afraid that he would tell the truth after being tortured, so he only planned to do it himself.

Anyway, he only needs to change a few words.

As for why Paciel asked him for the potion...

Joffrey just stared with innocent eyes.

"I think it's fun!"

After practicing several times, Joffrey rubbed his sore wrists and burned the paper in the fireplace.

Going to Winterfell would require at least a month of preparation, and he had plenty of time to accomplish this.

However, this method could not fundamentally prove his legitimate origins, which is why Joffrey chose to alter the book rather than destroy it directly.

After all, Baratheon's black hair is a dominant gene, so it can outshine any other hair color.

Fortunately, this place was still in the dreaded Middle Ages, where the concept of genetics did not yet exist, and people relied solely on inferences based on experience.

Therefore, what Joffrey really needs to focus on is managing.

It's called the Eight Trigrams.

Rumors are often more hurtful than the truth.

……

The following afternoon, Joffrey, accompanied by his hounds and four attendants, once again traveled to the Visenian Hills.

Apart from the Great Cathedral of Baylor and the Alchemists' Guild, most of the city's blacksmiths also live here.

"Your Highness." "Good day, Your Highness!" "Your Highness, would you like to see my newly forged weapon..." Along the way, busy blacksmiths and free riders haggling over prices all greeted Joffrey warmly.

Their prince has always been quite easygoing and has a good reputation among the people.

But today, Joffrey held his head high, ignoring all greetings.

He seems to have become as arrogant as his maternal family.

"Strange, Your Highness is acting so strangely today; you haven't smiled at me at all."

"You're talking nonsense. You were clearly looking at me last time. I reckon His Highness is in a bad mood today; someone must have upset him."

"Hehe, I have an idea, what do you guys think...?"

"Shh, keep your voice down, I know what you're trying to say."

"That child was named after the king; if he really is an illegitimate child, tsk tsk tsk."

The crowd quickly gathered and began to whisper among themselves.

The hound sidled up to Joffrey: "Should we stop them?"

Joffrey shook his head dismissively: "It's just casual conversation between people after work, why bother with such things?"

Casual conversation is good.

Casual conversation is good!

Moreover, this was a rumor he deliberately sent people to spread in the flea den last night, and it was passed through several layers of people to keep it secret.

I didn't expect it to get here in just one morning.

Oh dear, our former prime minister was so upright and strong, yet his child is sickly all the time and still needs to drink milk at six years old.

Moreover, the mother didn't even attend her husband's funeral; she took advantage of the night to board a boat and leave without saying goodbye to anyone.

This forced our beloved king and prince to keep vigil for a whole day and night.

That's absolutely outrageous.

This must be thoroughly investigated!

Of course, this is just a more elegant way of putting it, and only a part of it.

But as the rumors spread, people's interest shifted entirely to the most vulgar and obscene topics.

As for the child's biological father, Joffrey had already found one long ago.

It is the little finger.

However, it's too early to throw it out now. Lysa Tully has only been gone for a few days, and at most she's already passed Blackwater Bay and reached Seagull Town.

After letting things ferment for a while, and after Eddard and Littlefinger made contact, Joffrey decided to reveal the truth.

Riding horses through the steel streets, the group climbed to the top of the hill along a winding path.

A magnificent house appeared before them.

This is Tob Mort's blacksmith shop, the foremost weaponsmith in King's Landing.

He was also the mentor of one of Robert's illegitimate sons.

Joffrey dismounted and led his hounds through the two large gates made of ebony and weirwood.

Before long, the homeowner came out with a big smile on his face.

"Quickly, pour wine for His Highness!"

After sitting down on the bench, Joffrey took a silver cup that was offered to him and took two small sips.

It didn't taste as good as last night.

"Your Highness is so young yet so valiant. Are you going to participate in the martial arts tournament soon?" Master Tob exchanged a few pleasantries before skillfully launching into his sales pitch.

"Then a well-fitting suit of armor is indispensable. Lord Renly has ordered a new set of armor. How about we make one for you as well? Forged in gold, it would best suit your temperament."

What remains is nothing more than the usual rhetoric about art, color, and Valyrian steel.

Joffrey waited expressionlessly for him to finish his rambling, until his voice gradually lowered.

Then, he deliberately spoke in a dissatisfied tone.

"Master, with that mouth of yours, you could easily become a wandering poet!"