146-150

*Chapter 146: Crushing Aerial Assault*

The aunt and niece duo made their decision and immediately sprang into action.

Sea Snake deployed a small team from the port, using the guise of a patrol mission to head for the Stepstones.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar and Rhaenys secretly slipped out of the castle to find their respective dragons.

There were now several dragons on Tideshead Island.

Aside from Seasmoke and Sunfyre, who were in hiding, the most conspicuous was Caraxes, who had crawled from the shallows to the rocky outcrop.

Known as the Blood Wyrm, Caraxes was grievously wounded, with one wing broken and his body covered in scars.

Thanks to a dragon’s remarkable vitality, he managed to cling to life.

With his wings injured, Caraxes temporarily lost his ability to fly and could only survive through regular feeding of cattle and sheep by soldiers.

Once his condition improved, they planned to transport him back to either the Dragonpit or Dragonstone.

…

Not long after, Rhaegar mounted the saddle on Cannibal's back and set off to meet Rhaenys at the eastern coastline.

Meraxes’ lair was there, undisturbed, making it a perfect spot for hunting deep-sea fish.

“Hsssaaa...”

After the two met, Cannibal let out a piercing screech and darted out of Tideshead Island.

Meraxes narrowed her vertical pupils, shaking off her languid demeanor, and spread her wings to give chase.

There was no denying that Meraxes lived up to her reputation as the fastest dragon in history.

After soaring for a while, Meraxes overtook Cannibal like a red streak of lightning.

Cannibal pushed himself to his limit, struggling to follow her flight path.

“No wonder Aunt Rhaenys is so confident!”

Rhaegar gazed in awe at the massive red dragon ahead.

Roughly an hour passed.

Meraxes slowed down, allowing Cannibal to catch up, and the two dragons flew side by side.

An endless expanse of ocean revealed a series of rocky islands.

From above, they looked like scattered stones dropped on a blue canvas.

“Rhaegar, this is the Stepstones,” Rhaenys called out from atop her dragon, her voice loud and clear.

Rhaegar looked down at the cluster of islands, densely packed yet chaotic in their arrangement. It was his first time seeing the Stepstones.

The Stepstones were once part of the Arm of Dorne, connecting Westeros to the continent of Essos.

Thousands of years ago, when Old Valyria's Freehold launched its conquests across Essos, enslaving land after land, the ancestors of the First Men were among those subjugated.

Unable to bear their oppression, the First Men crossed the Arm of Dorne to invade Westeros.

At that time, Westeros was ruled by the Children of the Forest and giants, leading to fierce wars between them and the First Men.

In the end, the greenseers of the Children of the Forest unleashed powerful magic to shatter the Arm of Dorne, creating the Stepstones.

Thus, the Stepstones now lie between the Broken Arm and the Disputed Lands.

Thanks to its advantageous location, the Stepstones became a breeding ground for piracy and lawlessness.

The Free Cities of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh often fought for control over the islands.

After forming the Triarchy, or the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, they annexed these islands and purged the pirates.

However, the Triarchy's navy proved worse than the pirates.

They imposed exorbitant passage fees, kidnapped women and boys to sell to brothels, and, in their greed, plundered passing ships, earning the hatred of many.

This exploitation was one of the key reasons why the Sea Snake and Daemon launched the first Stepstones campaign.

“It’s certainly a prime location, controlling the crucial maritime route between two continents,” Rhaegar said as he surveyed the islands below, recognizing why wars had raged here for centuries.

“Hsssaaa...”

Cannibal suddenly let out a sharp cry, his vertical pupils fixed on the southeastern corner of the islands.

“You smell blood?”

Rhaegar tensed up.

“Hsssaaa...”

Cannibal responded, flapping his wings and heading toward the source of the scent.

Rhaegar signaled to Rhaenys, and the two dragons advanced together.

“Finish them off quickly! Kill these weaklings!”

“This is the last ship for today. Hurry up and secure it...”

Near a secluded, chaotic island, several bloodstained ships were anchored, and shouts of fighting and looting rang out loudly.

When Cannibal arrived overhead, they saw a group of pirates boarding another ship, killing its crew and stealing everything in sight.

“Should we act, Aunt?”

Rhaegar frowned, disturbed by the massacre below.

“Watch out for stray arrows. Make sure your dragon stays high enough!”

Rhaenys didn’t answer directly, instead issuing a warning before diving toward the scene atop Meraxes.

“Dracarys!”

A loud roar echoed as Melias unleashed its crimson dragon flames, incinerating the pillaging pirates.

"Ahhh!!..."

Caught off guard by the sudden burst of dragon fire, the pirates let out agonizing screams before being reduced to charred corpses.

Rhaegar was momentarily stunned but quickly grinned. "Glutton, watch for ambushes. It's our turn to join the fight!"

"Hiss-screech..."

The scent of blood awakened Glutton's primal instincts. It let out an excited roar and dove toward the chaos with a powerful beat of its wings.

*Boom—*

Without waiting for further orders, a torrent of green dragon fire rained down, scorching the pirates who had leapt into the sea.

"Glutton, target that pirate ship and sink it!"

Rhaegar's sharp eyes locked onto the warship commandeered by the pirates. With a firm grip on Glutton's reins, he guided it into a fiery assault.

"It's a dragon! Watch out for the flames! Shoot it down!"

Panic spread among the pirates as their leader unsheathed his blade and shouted orders, rallying the remaining forces to retaliate.

The pirates capable of drawing bows were the elites among them.

Despite their fear of the two massive dragons circling overhead, they nervously obeyed their leader's commands, drawing their bows with trembling hands.

*In an instant.*

Arrows rained down like a storm, aiming for the two dragons in the sky.

Melias, agile and quick, flapped its wings to ascend higher before the arrows could hit, and as it departed, it unleashed dragon fire, burning the ship's mast to ash.

"Hiss-screech..."

Glutton, more aggressive by nature, confronted the incoming arrows with a single, devastating blast of dragon fire, reducing them to ashes and molten droplets of iron.

Such an attack was utterly feeble in the face of the dragons' might.

"Retreat quickly! Abandon the cargo and get back to the ship!"

Realizing their attacks were futile, the pirate leader, trembling with fear, scrambled back to the warship via the gangplank, barking orders at the helmsman to set sail.

*Boom—*

But Rhaegar had no intention of letting them escape. Glutton dived down, its dragon flames pouring out like a torrential flood, engulfing the warship.

"Ahhh!!..."

In a matter of moments, most of the warship was consumed by flames, leaving behind only anguished screams.

*Whoosh—*

Just then, a sudden gust of wind howled as a steel spear shot out from the shadows.

"Glutton, lower your left wing!"

Rhaegar spotted the spear in time and hurriedly issued a command.

Sensing the danger as well, Glutton deftly altered its flight path, dodging the incoming spear with ease.

Rhaegar scanned the surroundings and quickly located an inconspicuous island.

Behind the small island, another pirate ship lay hidden.

"Glutton, burn them to the ground!"

Without hesitation, Rhaegar issued his next order, his gaze icy as he stared at the ship that had launched the ambush.

"Hiss-screech..."

Glutton roared furiously, flapping its wings as it closed in on its prey.

*Whoosh—*

Seeing the dragon approach, the pirates aboard the hidden ship were in a frenzy, hastily reloading their scorpion ballista to fire another steel spear.

Glutton’s slit-pupiled eyes glinted with disdain. With a slight tilt of its body, it effortlessly dodged the second spear.

"Dragon fire!"

In the brief moment of evasion, Glutton soared over the pirate ship. Following Rhaegar's command, it unleashed an inferno of raging dragon flames.

---

Chapter 147: An Unexpected Gain

*Boom—*

Under the onslaught of dragonfire, the pirate ship nearly capsized. The mast snapped in half, crashing onto the deck.

The sailor manning the scorpion ballista had no time to evade and was crushed into pulp by the falling mast before being incinerated by the dragonfire.

"Keep burning! Sink the entire ship!"

Rhaegar pressed the attack, commanding Devourer to unleash more dragonfire.

With the threat of the scorpion ballista eliminated, Devourer paid no mind to the feeble arrows. It hovered in midair, engulfing the entire pirate ship in green flames.

Seated firmly in the saddle, Rhaegar carefully scanned the scene to ensure no one had escaped.

Facing the ferocious and terrifying pirates from the Isle of Women for the first time, he refused to be careless.

Only when the entire ship was reduced to ashes could he consider it a true victory.

After a long moment, Rhaenys flew in on Meraxes, calling out, "Rhaegar, are you safe?"

"I'm fine. I got a firsthand look at a scorpion ballista, though."

Glancing down at the pirate ship, now reduced to ruins, Rhaegar finally signaled Devourer to stop breathing fire.

"Hah, you really are cautious."

Rhaenys held onto the reins and looked down from above at the scene of utter devastation.

The entire ship was burned to nothing.

Not just the pirates— even their weapons had melted into molten iron.

"Being cautious is never a bad thing."

Rhaegar chuckled and guided Devourer toward the merchant ship they had just rescued.

Rhaenys clicked her tongue and followed on her dragon.

They returned to the secluded island where the battle had taken place. The pirate ship was still burning, the charred corpses crackling as they burned.

The merchant ship had been caught in the blaze, its deck completely destroyed, and the sails still smoldering.

*Thud—*

A charred hatch burst open from within, and a group of ragged, half-naked people scrambled out in a panic.

"The slavers are all dead! Run!"

"Bless the Lord of Light! The flames have cleansed our sins…"

"...”

There were men and women, young and old, most of them emaciated and desperate, rushing onto the deck.

"Are these people slaves?"

Hearing the mention of slavers, Rhaegar’s expression darkened, his voice turning cold.

Westeros opposed slavery and forbade the slave trade.

This was the first time he had encountered a so-called slave ship.

"Aside from Westeros and Braavos, slavery is legal almost everywhere."

Rhaenys remained relatively indifferent, though the furrow of her brows showed some unease.

She had traveled the world with her husband's fleet and had seen far too many slaves.

Especially in Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and across Slaver’s Bay, slaves were as common as livestock.

"Should we go down and take a look?"

Noting Rhaegar’s evident distaste, Rhaenys suggested.

"Good idea. This ship won’t hold up much longer— we should move these people onto another vessel."

Rhaegar nodded and guided Devourer to descend.

"Dragonlord… Dragonlord…"

Seeing the dragon approach, the slaves dropped to their knees, trembling in fear.

The legacy of Old Valyria’s dragonlords had left a lasting impression on Essos.

Rhaegar surveyed the crowd and spoke loudly, "Where were you taken from, and where were you being transported?"

"Oh mighty Lord of Dragons, we were taken from all over the world. This ship was bound for Pentos."

A frail, elderly man knelt and replied hoarsely.

"Pentos?"

Rhaegar frowned slightly.

As one of the Free Cities, Pentos had signed an agreement with Braavos prohibiting the slave trade.

Then again, Pentos wasn’t Westeros or Braavos, where slavery was explicitly outlawed.

Officially, they might ban slavery, but behind the scenes, who was really enforcing it?

As he pondered, one of the kneeling slaves began crawling stealthily toward the deck.

"He's a pirate!"

Someone shouted, exposing the escapee.

Before the pirate could react, the surrounding slaves sprang into action, tackling him to the ground and beating him mercilessly.

Rhaegar watched coldly, making no move to intervene.

He had already sensed that something was off about this man.

---

All the other slaves were skin and bones, but he was well-fed and robust.

Squelch—  

Suddenly, the sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out, and the attacking slaves scattered in panic.

Rhaegar turned his gaze toward the commotion.

A frail-looking foreign girl stood up, gripping a dagger in one hand and holding a pirate’s severed head in the other.

Clang—  

She let go of the dagger, her flat chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as she stepped forward toward the deck.

The other slaves parted to make way for her.

When she reached the group of slaves, she suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud, holding the pirate’s head in both hands while bowing her head in silence.

Rhaegar studied her for a moment—thin as a twig, with messy black hair and a pale foreign face.

“What’s your name?”

He was curious about her swift and efficient killing technique.

“Sara.”

Her voice was hoarse, and she looked incredibly weak.

“You’re a slave too?”

“I haven’t been sold yet.”

She denied being a slave, though she was visibly on the verge of collapse.

Rhaegar glanced at the women among the slaves and instructed, “Take care of her. A fleet will arrive tonight to take you all away.”

She was a brave girl, but he had no time to deal with minor matters now.

“Oh great Lord of Dragons, where will the fleet take us?”

A frail old man asked tremulously.

Rhaegar hesitated and looked up at Rhaenys.

These people were all former slaves—he couldn’t sell them, nor was it easy to resettle them.

Sensing his dilemma, Rhaenys said, “We’ll transport them to Tideshead Island first. If they can’t find work there, we’ll send them to King’s Landing.”

She was experienced in handling such matters.

Most slaves, aside from women and children, were young laborers or skilled craftsmen.

As long as they had a stable environment, survival wouldn’t be an issue.

“Alright, let’s do that.”

Rhaegar nodded in agreement, deciding to return to Tideshead Island.

“Wait!”

The foreign girl suddenly called out, her voice urgent. “Honorable prince, I have a treasure to offer you.”

Rhaegar paused, intrigued. “Oh? What treasure?”

Several merchant ships were nearby—there was a chance something rare and valuable had been found.

His Explorer’s Quest required such artifacts, especially those with ancient origins or unique materials.

“A Valyrian steel longsword!”

The girl answered immediately.

“A Valyrian steel sword? Where is it?”

Rhaegar’s eyes lit up with excitement.

A single Valyrian steel sword was worth a fortune—there were only a handful in all of Westeros.

Moreover, Valyrian steel was infused with magic. If it had a significant enough history, it could trigger an Explorer’s Quest.

“It’s in the slave master’s cabin. He used it to behead a female slave, just to show off its sharpness.”

Sara’s voice was weak.

The frail old man gasped upon hearing this and quickly urged the young men beside him, “Go! Hurry and find that sword for our Dragon Lord!”

The other slaves immediately rushed into the wrecked ship, ignoring the scorching, charred wood as they searched frantically.

Before long, a charred corpse was dragged out.

Beside it lay a pitch-black longsword.

The old man picked up the sword and carefully wiped away the ash with a coarse cloth, revealing the true form of the Valyrian steel blade.

Now, we just need a fitting name for this Valyrian steel sword.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 148: The Old Shipwright  

“Oh great Lord of Dragons, only your mercy and wisdom are worthy of this sword.”  

The frail old man struggled to lift the Valyrian steel greatsword, presenting it with both hands.  

Judging by the trembling of his upper body, the sword was quite heavy.  

With the Valyrian steel greatsword before him, Rhaegar’s heart surged with excitement. He dismounted his dragon, leaping onto the deck with a thud.  

The scorched deck reeked of blood and smoke. Rhaegar strode toward the frail old man, his gaze burning as he took the sword.  

As soon as it was in his hands, Rhaegar paused slightly before exclaiming with delight, “It’s actually a greatsword!”  

There were many types of swords.  

The most common was the hand-and-a-half sword—House Targaryen’s ancestral sword, Blackfyre, was a standard example.  

Other types included greatswords, longswords, and shortswords.  

It was said that House Stark of the North possessed a Valyrian steel greatsword passed down through generations—Ice, a massive blade.  

Rhaegar grasped the charred hilt, his eyes scanning the broad blade, his fingers brushing lightly over it.  

Though scorched by dragonfire, the blade’s surface was only slightly blackened.  

The signature rippling patterns of Valyrian steel remained clearly visible, and the material was still of the highest quality.  

The wooden hilt was burnt and tattered, and the edges of the blade were dented and chipped, bearing the marks of countless battles.  

“Exploration mission activated: Recover the lost Valyrian steel greatsword.”  

As expected, the system’s notification sounded, and Rhaegar’s lips curled into a grin as he pulled up his system panel.  

[Lost Valyrian Steel Greatsword] 

Exploration progress: 0.5%  

“Thanks to these pirates, I’ve gotten my hands on a Valyrian steel greatsword.”  

Rhaegar gripped the hilt with both hands and tested a few swings—the blade cut through the air with a powerful whoosh.  

“It’s a bit heavy—might not be ideal for prolonged combat.”  

Lowering the sword, Rhaegar pondered.  

His relic, Blood of the True Dragon, granted him physical abilities far beyond ordinary men—his endurance and strength were exceptional.  

His current weapon, Dark Sister, was originally forged for a woman. Its slender, delicate design was becoming less suited to his growing needs.  

This Valyrian steel greatsword, however, was the perfect replacement.  

Obtaining both a new sword and an exploration quest, Rhaegar was elated.  

He gestured toward the foreign girl and instructed, “Take good care of this girl. If you can’t find work, you’re welcome to follow me back to King’s Landing.”  

This sword had come to him from this slave ship.  

He would do his best to help these homeless, unfortunate souls.  

With that, Rhaegar wrapped the greatsword in a piece of coarse cloth and slung it across his back.  

“Screeeech…”  

His dragon, Glutton, sensing his intent, descended slightly, offering its soft neck as a ladder for him to climb.  

Once he and Rhaenys were airborne, she eyed the sword in his arms with envy. “You really are lucky.”  

Valyrian steel was a magical relic of Old Valyria.  

When the Doom of Valyria struck, the secrets of forging Valyrian steel were lost along with the fallen empire.  

Every existing Valyrian steel weapon was now irreplaceable—once lost, there was no making another.  

A heavy Valyrian steel greatsword was as valuable as a kingdom’s treasure.  

“All thanks to you for letting me have it,” Rhaegar said sincerely. “With this sword, House Targaryen has gained another ancestral blade.”  

“The slaves gave the sword to you, not me.”  

Rhaenys lifted her chin in mock indignation. “Just don’t let Corlys see it—he’ll be green with envy.”  

House Velaryon had existed since the days of Old Valyria, though they had only been a minor noble house at the time.  

Long ago, House Velaryon had once possessed a Valyrian steel weapon.  

It was a curved blade called Seaflame.  

But it had been lost during a voyage, and since then, House Velaryon had been without a Valyrian steel heirloom.  

Among the Valyrian-descended noble houses:  

House Targaryen, the dragonlords, had Blackfyre, Dark Sister, and the little-known Dragonfang Dagger.  

House Celtigar was rumored to own a Valyrian steel battle-axe.  

Only House Velaryon had none.  

In his youth, Corlys Velaryon, the famed Sea Snake, had sailed across the world many times, hoping to acquire a Valyrian steel weapon.  

But he had never succeeded.  

Rhaegar chuckled even more gleefully at Rhaenys’s words. “I can’t wait to see Lord Corlys’s jealous face.”  

The sword was in his hands now—no one could take it from him.  

He had to flaunt it a little, just to make that cunning old man drool.  

Rhaenys shook her head with an amused smile, unwilling to entertain her smug nephew any further.  

Rhaegar ordered the freed slaves to wait aboard the ship, then turned his dragon and flew back toward Driftmark with Rhaenys.  

—  

The grand feast on Driftmark lasted for several days before finally coming to a satisfying conclusion.  

One by one, the guests boarded their ships and departed the harbor, returning home well-pleased. 

A large ship with a seahorse sail hanging from its mast was docked at the port. Sailors maintained order while laborers loaded supplies.  

“Prince, the Stepstones are scattered and disorganized. My family's fleet can only fortify Bloodstone Island—we don’t have the resources to cover a larger area.”  

Standing on the dock, the Sea Snake observed the cargo being loaded onto the ship as he gave his report in a low voice.  

Rhaegar stood beside him and acknowledged, “To fully fortify the Stepstones, we would need watchtowers, fleet patrols, and stationed soldiers to guard the strongholds. That’s not something House Velaryon can accomplish alone.”  

The Stepstones had only two large islands: Bloodstone Island and Grey Gallows.  

During the last Stepstones campaign, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters’ pirates had fortified both islands and avoided direct confrontation, prolonging the war indefinitely.  

This time, however, the Three Daughters had not yet seized the islands, making it the perfect opportunity for the kingdom to send troops and reinforce the defenses.  

Once he returned to King’s Landing, Rhaegar would report everything to his father.  

He would push for funds from the royal treasury to fully arm the Stepstones and bring them entirely under the kingdom’s protection.  

As they spoke, several shirtless veteran shipwrights disembarked from the large vessel, leading their apprentices toward them.  

"Lord Corlys, the ship has been thoroughly inspected—everything is in perfect condition," reported a stocky, silver-haired old shipwright with the utmost respect.  

The Sea Snake glanced at him before nodding. "You may go, Master Ironhammer."  

“Yes, Lord Corlys.”  

The old shipwright was long accustomed to his lord’s prideful demeanor and left with his companions.  

Now that they were no longer being disturbed, the Sea Snake resumed his discussion with Rhaegar about the Stepstones’ defenses.  

“Prince, we must act quickly. The Three Daughters’ pirates could invade the Stepstones at any moment.”  

“We don’t have an effective means of defense right now, and we could easily fall into the same situation as the last war.”  

His analysis was logical and conveyed a deep concern for the war.  

Rhaegar listened intently, his gaze sweeping over the port—until, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the stocky old shipwright.  

The man was crouched in front of an orange vendor’s stall, haggling with the merchant.  

Beside him stood two small figures—two little boys with silver-gold hair and dark skin.  

The sight reminded Rhaegar of the many bastard children he had seen on Dragonstone.  

As the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, Dragonstone was full of bastards with tangled bloodlines.  

He hadn’t expected House Velaryon—a family so rooted in tradition and formality—to have so many bastards as well.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 149: Otto Takes Office

After the cargo was unloaded, Rhaenys and Rhaenyra arrived together, followed by dozens of slaves.

Rhaenyra looked exhausted, rubbing her forehead as she said, “Many of the elderly, women, and able-bodied men have stayed behind. The remaining ones are mostly children and craftsmen.”

Tidehead Island was relatively prosperous. The elderly and women could learn to make handicrafts, and the able-bodied could make a living working at the docks.

However, the children couldn't fend for themselves, and Tidehead Island had no welfare institutions, so they had no choice but to return to King’s Landing with the main ship.

As for the craftsmen, their decision was made collectively.

Staying on Tidehead Island meant working. Following the dragonlord who saved them also meant working.

Since they had to work either way, they figured they might as well follow the dragonlord.

With their skills, they would never go hungry, no matter where they went.

“You’ve worked hard. Once they’re all on board, we’ll set off.”

Rhaegar smiled warmly, giving Rhaenyra’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Hmph, go find Aegon. Who knows which woman’s bed he spent the night in this time?”

Rhaenyra wasn’t falling for his act, instead bringing up Aegon, who had gone missing after a night of debauchery.

Rhaegar’s expression darkened slightly. He was somewhat traumatized by Aegon’s peculiar tastes.

That kind of old woman? And he could still go for it?

…

With everything in place, the Sea Snake boarded the main ship, and the sails were set.

The dragonriders each mounted their dragons, taking a much faster route back to King’s Landing.

As night fell, the massive dragons arrived at the Dragonpit one after another.

Maester Menas, along with a group of dragon guards, stepped forward joyfully. “Prince, welcome back safely.”

“Has anything happened recently?”

Rhaegar dismounted casually, asking offhandedly.

Menas glanced at the exhausted-looking Aegon before replying cautiously, “The King has ordered that former Hand of the King Otto Hightower be appointed Minister of Civil Affairs. He will return to King’s Landing to take office soon.”

“That’s good news—I expected as much.”

Rhaegar chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

He had deliberately delayed pressing forward with the street-cleaning plan, waiting for Otto to take the lead and share the burden.

And look at that—he had only been gone for a few days, and Otto had already been given a position.

Alicent’s influence was nothing to scoff at.

“Are we done talking? I’ve been freezing in the wind all day—I need a hot bath.”

Rhaenyra stretched and yawned.

“Don’t blame me. Your and Aegon’s dragons are too slow. If I didn’t have to wait for you, I would’ve been back as early as Aunt Rhaenys.”

Rhaegar took her hand, ignoring the weak-legged Aegon, and the two of them boarded a carriage back to the Red Keep.

…

The Next Day

The Sea Snake’s fleet crossed Blackwater Bay and arrived at King’s Landing’s harbor.

As Crown Prince, Rhaegar personally went to greet them.

The Sea Snake oversaw his sailors unloading crates of goods meant for the royal family. “The slaves have also disembarked. You may take them.”

With that, the sailors brought forward dozens of slaves.

“Thank you, Lord Corlys.”

Rhaegar nodded slightly as Ser Erryk stepped forward to take charge of them.

Children were the future of the kingdom, and craftsmen were a rare resource—he would make good use of them.

Leaving the harbor, the Sea Snake, accompanied by his wife and eldest son, made his way grandly to the Red Keep.

On the way, Rhaenys briefed him on Laenor’s situation.

He was safe and sound in the Red Keep, surrounded by maids and wet nurses, under Alicent’s personal care.

Inside the Red Keep, King Viserys had prepared a grand banquet to welcome the long-absent Velaryon family.

In truth, the Red Keep had been hosting banquets for days.

First, they welcomed Laenor, then Rhaenys, then Laenor’s mother and son.

At the feast, courtiers raised their goblets in celebration, the atmosphere lively and joyous.

No one spoiled the mood by bringing up the Stepstones, ensuring the banquet concluded smoothly.

…

Late at Night

Rhaegar left the banquet early, returning to his chambers alone.

Sitting at the round table, he took out his Valyrian steel greatsword, habitually running his fingers over it, his eyes filled with anticipation.

He pulled up his system panel to check the exploration logs from the previous day.

*[The Lost Valyrian Steel Greatsword]*

*Exploration Progress: 100%*

"This exploration is complete. Please retrieve the lost treasure."

"Relic successfully retrieved. Analyzing..."

"Analysis complete. Classified as an excellent-grade relic: Nameless Sword."

A line of small text appeared below:

"An ancient relic returns to the hands of an ancient bloodline. It needs a resounding true name."  

Rhaegar ran his hand along the uneven blade and asked, "If this greatsword is also made of Valyrian steel, why is its relic grade lower than Dark Sister?"

After thinking it over, he could only conclude that Dark Sister was a House Targaryen ancestral sword, passed down for generations.

It had endured the passage of time, carrying a legendary history.

Its exploration level was also higher.

The material of the Valyrian steel greatsword was not inferior, but its true name had long been lost, and it lacked a storied background.

That was why its exploration level was lower than Dark Sister.

The Explorer’s Quest didn’t activate for just any random relic or weapon.

He had explored nearly every corner of the Red Keep over the years.

He had searched for the remains of Meraxes and Silverwing, just as Balerion's skull was kept.

He had even secretly sat on the Iron Throne and worn Aegon the Conqueror’s black iron crown.

Yet, none of those had triggered the Explorer’s Quest.

Rhaegar speculated that it was because Meraxes and Silverwing had died too young, without legendary exploits, and thus didn’t meet the criteria.

The Iron Throne and the black iron crown did have a certain legendary significance.

But both were forged barely a century ago, lacking the weight of history.

So, they, too, failed to meet the requirements for an Explorer’s Quest.

In the Red Keep, only one item truly had the potential to trigger an Explorer’s Quest—

His father, Viserys, always carried the ancestral sword, Blackfyre.

Rhaegar had once requested to see it under the pretense of studying it.

His father told him it was still too early—he would receive it when he came of age.

Rhaegar had no choice but to let it go for now and didn’t rush to explore Blackfyre.

Instead, he had spent time and money offering bounties across Westeros and the Free Cities, searching for rare artifacts and ancient relics.

He had spent a fortune, yet only a handful of items had triggered the Explorer’s Quest.

At one point, he was nearly bankrupt—even his collection of mushroom prints was at risk.

*Knock, knock…*

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, followed by a familiar voice.

"Rhaegar, I'm coming in."

Creaaak—  

The door swung open from the outside, and Rhaenyra stepped inside, dressed in a red gown.

Rhaegar chuckled. "The banquet’s over? I thought you’d find a dance partner."

"Helping Alicent organize the banquet was exhausting enough. I don’t have the energy to dance."

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra lounged sideways on the bed and glanced at the Valyrian steel greatsword with curiosity.

"I heard you asked the Sea Snake to invite a master smith from Qohor. Are you planning to reforge this sword?"

The art of forging Valyrian steel had long been lost.

But the finest blacksmiths of Qohor still possessed the knowledge to reforge it.

"That’s right. The blade is dull, and it’s far too heavy."

Rhaegar swung the greatsword a couple of times. A weapon of this weight wasn’t practical for prolonged combat on the battlefield.

After much consideration, he decided it would be best to reforge the sword into a well-balanced hand-and-a-half sword.

That way, he could also rename the newly forged Valyrian steel sword and officially claim the relic.

Rhaenyra tapped her lips with a finger, seemingly uninterested.

As a woman, she had no place on the battlefield—no matter how fine a weapon was, she would never have the chance to wield it.

After a moment of thought, she said, "Tomorrow, there will be a meeting of the Small Council to discuss an alliance between the Crown and House Velaryon."

King’s Landing was a cesspool—filthy, chaotic, and unsanitary.

A governing body was necessary to maintain order.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 150: The Seven Gods Church’s Small Moves

“This is only natural. With war on the horizon, we must secure allies.”

Rhaegar wasn’t surprised.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered as she spoke mysteriously. “I just heard some new information—Otto is returning to King’s Landing.”

“That’s not news. We’ve known that for a while.”

Rhaegar looked puzzled.

“No, besides Otto, the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven is accompanying him.”

Rhaenyra continued seriously, “More and more people in Flea Bottom are becoming followers of the Seven. Rumors about the war are spreading like wildfire, and there are signs that the people are beginning to reject House Velaryon.”

“Otto is colluding with the Faith of the Seven to stir up the public?”

Rhaegar frowned, scoffing at such petty tricks.

“I have to admit, it’s an effective move.”

Rhaenyra sighed in frustration. “The Faith of the Seven has always been skilled at creating trouble for the royal family. Public opinion can be extremely influential.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll make them shut up.”

Rhaegar pondered briefly before deciding how to handle the situation.

War was coming.

He needed to stabilize things internally first—he couldn’t afford to have anyone dragging them down.

After some thought, Rhaegar set down his greatsword, stood up, and said as he walked, “I’m heading out for a bit. You should rest.”

“Where are you going?”

Rhaenyra was stunned to see him leaving.

“To find a good ally.”

Rhaegar left those words behind and walked away with Ser Erryk, the guard at the door.

---

In the grand banquet hall, music and dance filled the air as nobles paired off and waltzed elegantly.

In stark contrast, the dungeons of the Red Keep were dark, damp, and crawling with vermin.

“Your Highness, there’s no need for you to come personally.”

Dressed in a black robe, Ser Erryk tried to dissuade Rhaegar as they entered the prison.

Rhaegar, also clad in black, ignored him and silently observed his surroundings as he walked deeper inside.

Ser Erryk dismissed the guards and hurried to catch up.

Before long, they reached the depths of the dungeon.

Clank... Clank...  

The sound of chains rattling echoed through the dim, narrow corridor.

Rhaegar stopped in front of a solitary cell, his gaze searching for the prisoner within.

“Your Highness, I never expected you to visit me in person.”

Sitting on the wooden bed, Xyrios looked genuinely surprised to see Rhaegar.

From what he remembered, this prince had never cared about whether he lived or died.

During training, they would occasionally let him out for some fresh air, but most of the time, he was left to rot in his cell, ignored.

Rhaegar glanced around the room, then at Xyrios himself.

The cell wasn’t bad—it was dry and relatively clean, even furnished with bedding.

Far better than the common dungeon cells.

Xyrios still looked the same—messy brown curls, an unkempt beard, and a perpetual smirk on his face.

“You’ve atoned for your crimes. I’ve decided to release you.”

Rhaegar smiled.

“Oh? And might I ask if there’s a place for my services?”

Xyrios was quick-witted and eager to ask.

After being locked up for years, he was more than ready to leave.

“I need you to build an intelligence network—and train some assassins while you’re at it.”

Rhaegar stated his intentions bluntly.

Xyrios was from Braavos, a renowned Water Dancer.

For men like him, combat and assassination were second nature.

Rhaegar intended to put his skills to use.

“Thank you for your trust, Your Highness. I won’t let you down.”

Xyrios agreed without hesitation, raising his shackled hands.

Rhaegar gave Ser Erryk a glance, signaling him to unlock the restraints.

Ser Erryk nodded and took out a key he had prepared in advance.

While they worked on that, Rhaegar wandered deeper into the dungeon and spotted another familiar face in the corner.

“Uncle, are you getting used to life down here?”

In another solitary cell, Daemon lay on the bed, both hands and feet bound in chains.

Rhaegar surveyed the cell.

There was a chair, a chamber pot, and thick blankets—it seemed someone had sent him supplies.

Daemon turned over, facing away from Rhaegar, silent.

On his first day in the dungeon, his brother, Viserys, had come to see him.

Viserys had cursed him from head to toe, calling him worse than filth—and had nearly taken his head off.

Let him rot and stink in the dungeon.

"Forget it, you definitely don’t want to see me."

Ser Criston was released, but Rhaegar had no desire to mock anyone. He led his men out of the dungeon.

He still had things to do—let Daemon endure his time in the dungeon.

After escorting Ser Criston to the dragonpit, Rhaegar returned to his chambers.

Pushing open the door, he found the candles had long since burned out.

After a long day, Rhaegar felt exhausted. He took off his shirt and slipped under the covers.

The bed was warm.

Surrounded by the soft, fragrant sheets, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

…

Early the next morning.

Ser Cole knocked on the door, informing the prince that the king had summoned a council meeting.

Still drowsy, Rhaegar hurriedly ate a quick breakfast before heading to the meeting.

"Straighten your collar a bit. Today’s meeting is important."

Rhaenyra, now dressed in a black gown, fussed over his wrinkled attire.

Rhaegar let her adjust it as he silently chewed on his bread.

"I must have owed you in a past life," he muttered.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in exasperation, letting out a huff.

Although she secretly enjoyed it, this should have been Alicent’s duty.

At the entrance to the council chamber.

Even through the thick wooden doors, they could hear Tyland’s report.

"Your Grace, the Stepstones are a land of constant war. The costs of battle, fortress construction, and compensation will be astronomical."

The siblings exchanged glances, each seeing the helplessness in the other’s eyes.

War wasn’t just about the bravery of soldiers—the most critical factor was logistics.

Once war broke out, spending would be like water pouring through one’s fingers.

"Prince, Princess."

Ser Steffon, the Kingsguard stationed at the door, greeted them and personally pushed open the heavy doors.

The voices inside the chamber immediately fell silent.

Rhaegar stepped into the hall, scanning the familiar faces.

The usual council members were present, along with his father, King Viserys.

One detail caught his attention—three new chairs had been added to the council table.

Aside from the one he had secured for Rhaenyra, the other two were likely for the Velaryon couple.

Taking his seat, Rhaegar glanced at Tyland, who stood at the table, and asked, "I arrived before Lord Corlys?"

"The Lord of the Tides was summoned just moments ago—he is on his way."

Tyland answered honestly.

Rhaegar wasn’t surprised. Last night’s feast had gone on quite late, and waking up early was undoubtedly difficult for an older man.

"Since Lord Corlys isn’t here yet, let’s go over the urgent matters first."

Considering the war’s potential impact, it was best to discuss it sooner rather than later.

As he spoke, he picked up his council stone and idly rolled it in his palm.

"Prince, this is my estimate of the war’s expenditures."

Tyland was a man of action—he had already prepared a detailed list and now handed it over.

Rhaegar accepted it politely.

Viserys, looking exhausted, leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Lord Lyonel, you go first."

The mere thought of an impending war had robbed him of sleep.

Lyonel stood and began his analysis. "Your Grace, in response to the Triarchy’s aggression, we must rally as many of the realm’s lords as possible for military support."

"The Stormlands are closest to the Stepstones—Duke Boremund Baratheon will surely offer his full support."

"Boremund is Rhaenys’s uncle. He has always been a steadfast supporter of the crown," Viserys agreed.

"Additionally, we can summon forces from the Riverlands, the Reach, the Vale, and the Westerlands to bolster our army."

Lyonel continued with his suggestions.

Boremund was the current Lord of Storm’s End—the same bearded noble who arranged Rhaenyra’s suitors in the show.

His son, Borros, would later support the Greens and offer his daughter’s hand to Aemond.

(End of Chapter)