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... ng's Bedchamber

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Viserys lay on his bed, his face gaunt and pale, each cough wracking his frail body.

Grand Maester Mellos stood nearby, speaking in a measured tone. "Your Grace, you have contracted a cold. Rest is imperative."

"I can't afford to rest; there's too much to be done." Viserys struggled to suppress another coughing fit, his breath coming in labored gasps. "How are the preparations for the tournament? The nobles in the North mus ...

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