6-10

**Chapter 6: Ancient Valyrian Language**

*"Begin the Exploration!"*

Encountering another exploration task, Rhaegar wasn’t going to let it slip by.

Silently chanting “begin,” the progress panel for exploring the dragonhorn dagger appeared.

**[Valyrian Steel Dagger]**
Exploration Progress: 2.5%

"Yes!"

Rhaegar cheered inwardly, his face breaking into a wide smile.

When Rhaenyra asked to examine the dragonhorn dagger, Rhaegar refused, feigning fatigue and pitifully claiming he was too tired.

“Fine, then. Go ahead and cuddle the dagger to sleep, you stingy brat,” Rhaenyra huffed.

Rhaegar rubbed his dark circles, leaning into his sister’s embrace while yawning. He promised his father, “I’ll return the dagger before we get off the carriage.”

“As you wish, just don’t start having nightmares and waving it around,” Viserys joked, a hint of relief in his gaze.

Who knew if it was because he hadn’t seen his eldest son in so long? Somehow, Rhaegar seemed more spirited over the past two days—not out of breath after speaking a few sentences.

As a father, Viserys was delighted.

---

The carriage journey continued.

From dawn until the sun hung high in the sky.

**“Exploration complete. Please retrieve the lost relic.”**

The carriage came to a halt just in time. The coachman reined in the gentle white horses with ease.

Rhaegar was awakened by the system notification, his nose tickling.

Opening his eyes, he saw Rhaenyra teasing his nose with a strand of her silver hair.

“Sister, you’re so childish,” Rhaegar grumbled, propping himself up.

To his surprise, he found he’d somehow ended up lying on the seat, his head resting on Rhaenyra’s lap.

“We’ve arrived at the camp. Outside, the ministers are all waiting to welcome us,” Rhaenyra said with a sly smile, reminding her brother to compose himself.

Rhaegar snapped to attention and immediately checked the system panel.

**[Valyrian Steel Dagger]**
Exploration Progress: 100%

Looking at the dragonhorn dagger in his hand, he noticed a glowing blue orb stuck to the horn handle.

Discreetly glancing around the carriage, Rhaegar confirmed that no one else seemed to notice the conspicuous blue orb.

“Looks like only I can see it.”

For some reason, Rhaegar felt relieved, even a bit smug.

He liked this feeling of exclusivity.

Touching the blue orb, it dissolved into tiny points of light, seeping into his hand like before.

“Father, here’s your dagger back.”

Viserys, adjusting his attire with Alicent’s help, took the dagger as Rhaegar handed it over.

“Let your sister straighten the creases in your clothes. Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the ministers,” Viserys advised, casually fastening the dagger to his belt.

Rhaenyra, not particularly gentle, pulled him over with a grin, tidying his rumpled silver hair from sleep.

Taking advantage of the moment, Rhaegar checked the system panel again.

**“Relic successfully retrieved. Scanning…”**
**“Scan complete. Relic identified as Excellent grade: *The Ancestors’ Warning.*”**
**“Would you like to activate this relic?”**

“Excellent grade?”

Noticing the panel’s new grading system, Rhaegar pondered.

The last relic, *The Dragon’s Legacy,* was rated as Legendary. Its aura was red.

This time, the relic was rated Excellent, with a blue aura.

“So relics are ranked. The Legendary grade activated the ancient Valyrian Dragonlord bloodline—no wonder it’s so precious.”

Reflecting on the changes brought by *Blood of the Dragon,* Rhaegar silently thanked Balerion.

“Activate the relic,” he thought.

A line of text appeared on the system panel:

**“Congratulations! *The Ancestors’ Warning* has been successfully activated. You have obtained…”**
**[Ancient Valyrian Proficiency]**
**Grade: Excellent (Blue)**
**Effect: Mastery of the Ancient Valyrian Language**
**Evaluation: ‘Learning a new language is never a loss.’**

The moment he saw the panel clearly, it was as if a current of electricity surged from his tailbone up to the crown of his head.

Rhaegar shivered, and suddenly, knowledge of Valyrian languages appeared in his mind.

Both High Valyrian and the common dialect.

It was as if the language had taken root in his brain, as natural as if he'd been born with it.

“Rhaegar, are you cold?”

Rhaenyra noticed his unusual behavior and expressed concern.

Rhaegar shook his head quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

He patted his chest to show he was truly okay.

“Pull yourself together. We’ve kept the ministers waiting long enough. Show some composure.”

Viserys, with Blackfyre at his side, stepped out of the carriage first, lifting the curtain.

Cheers erupted immediately from the crowd outside as they greeted their king.

“Let’s go, children.”

Alicent spoke softly, following close behind.

Rhaenyra frowned slightly, displeased by her words.

Once, not long ago, they had been inseparable friends who shared everything.

But after her mother died in childbirth, Alicent had turned around and married her father.

And now, she addressed Rhaenyra as though she were a mere child.

It was disgusting.

Rhaenyra’s face remained stern as she pulled Rhaegar out of the carriage with her.

Compared to the cheers greeting the king, the crowd's reception of Rhaenyra, the heir, was noticeably lukewarm.

Meanwhile, Alicent, accompanied by her three children, smiled as noblewomen greeted her warmly.

Some brazen fools even shouted, “Long live Prince Aegon!”

The cry quickly spread, and soon many in the crowd were cheering for Prince Aegon.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar, the legitimate heirs, were almost forgotten.

Rhaenyra forced a smile, pretending not to care, and followed Viserys.

Rhaegar, sensing her unease, gently shook her hand and offered a sweet smile.

Though his pale complexion and dark circles made the gesture less endearing.

“I’m fine, Rhaegar,” Rhaenyra said softly, though her voice betrayed her gloom.

“I know. Targaryens never back down.”

Rhaegar replied quietly, his gaze shifting to the direction of the initial inappropriate cheer.

It only took a second to identify the culprit: a man with golden curls and a large nose, standing beside an older noblewoman.

Judging by his stance, he was likely a skilled knight.

“Big-nosed fool, I’ve got my eye on you,” Rhaegar muttered to himself, memorizing the man's face.

Not for any particular reason—

But because that big nose just begged for a punch!

---

After the enthusiastic welcome, the celebration began at the campsite.

Tables laden with wine, fruit, and pastries were set out for the nobles and their families participating in the hunt.

Viserys entered the main tent and took his seat on the throne to receive greetings from the ministers.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar followed him inside.

Nearby, a group of noblewomen huddled together, gossiping about rumors from the Stepstones.

Apparently, a noble lady had been captured by the Crabfeeder's pirates.

As Rhaenyra approached, a white-haired, elegantly dressed old woman called out to her, asking for her opinion.

Welcoming the opportunity for conversation, Rhaenyra smiled and joined the group.

But the woman’s intentions were far from friendly.

Within two sentences, she brought up Daemon’s unauthorized war, questioning whether Rhaenyra had wrested the heir’s position from him.

“Lady Gillraff, Daemon brought this upon himself. The princess is far more suited to the role of heir,” Alicent interjected from her seat beside the elderly noblewoman, defending Rhaenyra.

After all, the current king was Viserys—her husband.

Whether the heir was Rhaenyra or Alicent’s own child, it was still a family matter.

Daemon had long since been excluded from the line of succession.

Alicent would not tolerate any rumors suggesting Daemon was wrongfully stripped of his claim.

Lady Gillraff fell silent for a moment before shifting her focus back to Daemon’s unauthorized war.

“Because of this unnecessary conflict, your uncle has dragged the kingdom into a mess, forcing us to deploy fleets and soldiers to eradicate the Triarchy completely.”

“This will cost countless resources and the lives of many soldiers.”

**(End of Chapter)**

**Chapter 7: Larys the Clubfoot**

“The kingdom hasn’t gone to war yet. My father is still in negotiations.”

Rhaenyra lost her smile and retorted against the old lady’s accusation.

Another elderly woman spoke up, “Even though the King refuses to acknowledge it, the war has already begun, thanks to your uncle and the Sea Snake.”

“And how have you been serving the realm lately, Lady Redwyne?”

Rhaenyra lost all patience, casting a scornful glance at the lapdog in the woman’s arms and shooting back, “By eating biscuits?”

The blatant mockery hung in the air, silencing the crowd.

The atmosphere grew tense.

Then, suddenly—

“Pfft~”

A burst of barely restrained laughter broke through the silence, its sharpness echoing in the quiet.

Lady Redwyne’s face darkened as her gaze landed on the silver-haired boy struggling to hold back his laughter. She spoke in a low voice, “Your Highness, is this young man the prince?”

Rhaenyra couldn’t be bothered to reply and simply turned to leave, her cool silhouette the only response she gave the old woman.

Rhaegar couldn’t suppress his amusement any longer. Standing confidently before the group of noblewomen, he introduced himself: “I am Rhaegar. Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“Viserys the First is my father, and I am his eldest son.”

Looking at Lady Redwyne, he asked with an innocent smile, “Forgive me for being frail and sickly as a child, which kept me from public view. Lady Biscuit, does my name ring a bell for you?”

“Pfft~”

Another person failed to stifle their laughter.

Rhaegar turned his head and saw a frail man with curly brown hair sitting incongruously among the women—a gathering of gossipy tongues.

The man held a cane in one hand, and Rhaegar’s gaze dropped to notice an unusual shoe.

The man was a cripple with a deformed foot.

Sensing his gaze, the man nodded politely and introduced himself, “Larys Strong, at your service, Prince.”

Rhaegar returned the gesture and asked curiously, “Is Lord Lyonel your father?”

“Yes, he is. I am his youngest son,” Larys replied, withdrawing his deformed foot slightly.

“Your father is known far and wide as a good and loyal servant of the realm.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Rhaegar shifted his focus back to Lady Redwyne.

“The Three Daughters have invaded the kingdom’s territory, plundering passing ships and enslaving the loyal subjects of my father’s realm,” he declared.

“My uncle Daemon may have acted without permission, but he did so to defend his brother’s kingdom, fulfilling the responsibilities of a Targaryen prince.”

Pausing briefly, Rhaegar glanced at Lady Jirelle, who had spoken first, and continued with conviction:

“This war was not of our making. It is the Three Daughters who have overstepped, challenging the authority of Targaryen rule.”

“I am confident that it won’t be long before my father makes the hard decision, despite the criticisms he’ll face for entering the war. He will send troops to defeat the Crab Feeder and repel the foreign invaders.”

“And as for the kingdom’s governance, that is for the King and his council to manage. It hardly requires the input of a biscuit-loving lady.”

Rhaegar’s passionate speech concluded, emphasizing Lady Redwyne and her biscuit obsession for effect.

The noblewomen who had previously mocked Rhaenyra were left red-faced, as if they had been slapped in public.

Alicent stared at Rhaegar in shock, as though seeing him for the first time.

No one could have imagined that a six-year-old boy could deliver such a speech.

Especially Lady Redwyne, who felt thoroughly humiliated yet found herself unable to retort.

“Queen Alicent, you ought to discipline the King’s children better,” she snapped, throwing her lapdog to the ground and storming off, lifting her biscuit-crumb-stained skirts in fury.

She muttered angrily as she left.

“Perhaps my words were too naive to resonate with everyone here,” Rhaegar said with a smile, placing a hand on his lightly heaving chest before bowing and taking his leave.

He had no time to chat with a group of narrow-minded gossips.

He needed to find his sister.

Adolescents struggling with insecurity are often prone to sadness and require comfort.

Just as he stepped out of the tent, he heard an uneven set of footsteps behind him.

Turning around, he saw Larys leaning on his cane.

“Ser Larys, are you not a fan of the noblewomen’s gossip?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

Larys replied tactfully, “Not quite. I enjoy gathering all kinds of information.”

“And that is?”

---
Rhaegar looked at him strangely.

Larys bent down, lowering himself to Rhaegar’s eye level as much as possible, his smile carrying a hint of flattery. “I’ve come specifically to meet you, Your Highness.”

Rhaegar nodded, signaling him to continue.

Larys said, “I’ve heard that the king’s eldest son—Your Highness—has always stayed in the palace due to health issues?”

“That’s correct. My mother had a difficult labor when I was born, and I was at risk of dying before the age of six.”

Rhaegar spoke bluntly, curious about Larys’s intentions.

“Praise the Seven Gods! Even though you’ve been frail and sickly, Your Highness, your astonishing intellect has never been overshadowed. Truly, a blessing for the kingdom.”

Larys offered exaggerated praise.

Rhaegar’s patience began to wane. He said calmly, “Without years of running and playing, I simply read more books.”

“Oh? What kind of books do you enjoy, Your Highness?”

“Some history books. Reading history makes one wise and teaches us the lessons of our predecessors.”

Rhaegar, losing interest in the conversation, remarked coldly, “History serves to warn future generations—to guard their honor and stay away from those with ill intentions.”

Then he turned and left.

Larys, leaning on his cane, watched his departing figure with a faint smile and a meaningful look in his eyes.

“A fascinating little prince. The waves keep coming, but it’s not time to come ashore yet.”

---

Leaving the scheming man behind without a farewell, Rhaegar continued searching for his sister.

He searched for a long time but found no sign of her.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra had been too upset and had hidden in some corner, secretly shedding her precious pearls of tears.

“Your Highness.”

As he walked among the bonfires and fruit platters, a steady voice called out to him.

Rhaegar looked around and saw a White Knight dressed in silver armor and draped in a white cloak.

Beneath the helmet was a ponytail, thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a full beard.

Rhaegar recognized this White Knight.

And not just him—he had seen two identical faces.

Among the King’s Kingsguard were twin brothers.

Ser Erryk Cargyll.

Ser Arryk Cargyll.

The brothers were exceptional warriors and paragons of justice, which had earned them both a place in the Kingsguard.

“Ser Erryk, do you need something from me?”

Rhaegar, holding a bunch of red grapes, looked at him curiously.

Hearing his name spoken correctly, Erryk was momentarily startled, seeming slightly flattered.

The twins resembled each other so closely that only those who had spent considerable time with them could tell them apart. Mistaking one for the other was common.

Erryk stepped forward and bowed respectfully. “The king is looking for you.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

Rhaegar was very cooperative. Erryk hesitated slightly before offering a word of caution. “Your Highness, the king just had an argument with the princess, so he’s not in the best mood.”

“An argument? About what?”

Rhaegar brushed off the question of Rhaenyra returning to the tent and his futile search, focusing first on the cause of the dispute.

“It concerns the princess’s marriage. I dare not say more.”

Erryk, upright and honorable, refrained from commenting on the king and princess’s private matters. However, he did mention someone by name.

Jason Lannister.

Duke of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West…

In short, a man with a string of lofty titles.

It took Rhaegar a moment to connect the dots.

With Erryk’s reminder, he pieced together the situation.

This man was Tyland Lannister’s elder brother.

The current head of House Lannister.

The issue stemmed from Jason Lannister’s private attempt to court Rhaenyra.

Arrogant and self-assured, Jason openly expressed his desire for her beauty and power without any pretense.

Rhaenyra had no interest in such a peacock-like fool.

She rejected him politely.

Returning to the tent, she opposed Viserys’s attempts to control her marriage, citing Jason Lannister’s behavior as an example.

Then…

What followed was the inevitable clash of wills.

The debate ended with Viserys fuming in anger and Rhaenyra retreating in tears.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 8: The White Stag

"How is my sister doing now?"

Sighing softly, Rhaegar felt a wave of concern for Rhaenyra.

Ser Erryk didn’t hide the truth: "The princess ran out of the tent before me. The guards said she headed into the King’s Wood."

"Alone?"

"Ser Criston Cole followed closely behind her."

Rhaegar nodded thoughtfully before asking abruptly, "Ser Erryk, what exact words did my father use when he sent you to find me?"

Slightly puzzled, Erryk replied honestly, "His Majesty ordered me to bring the prince back and to ensure your safety."

"Good."

Rhaegar smiled and added, "Then I’ll trouble you with that task."

As Erryk gave him a confused look, Rhaegar jogged toward the nearest horse enclosure, ducking under the railing.

"Prince, I don’t understand what you mean."

Erryk followed closely, bewildered.

Rhaegar selected a tall black horse and asked, "How about this one? It looks sturdy."

"Prince, don’t tell me you’re planning to head into the King’s Wood?"

Erryk, quick on the uptake, immediately tried to dissuade him.

Rhaegar patted the horse’s foreleg and said seriously, "No, we’re going into the King’s Wood—together."

"His Majesty won’t approve of you running off!"

"It’s not considered running off if I have a White Cloak protecting me," Rhaegar countered, giving Erryk no chance to refuse.

He tugged gently at a tuft of the horse’s mane and said softly, "Ser, I assume you don’t want anything to happen to me?"

With that, he exerted slight pressure with his small hand.

The black horse, feeling the discomfort, pawed the ground uneasily and let out a loud whinny.

Standing by the horse’s leg, Rhaegar stared quietly at Erryk.

"What’s your choice, Ser?"

Erryk found himself staring at the young prince, who was blatantly threatening him with his own safety.

In that moment, Erryk couldn’t help but pity the king.

With such unruly children, his mind must be in constant turmoil.

And he pitied himself.

Erryk knew that he couldn’t stop someone who was willing to risk harm to themselves.

Swallowing his frustration, Erryk lowered his head. "I will take you to find the princess, but you must follow my instructions."

"No problem, Ser."
Rhaegar’s pale face lit up with a faint smile as he released the horse’s mane and spread his arms wide.

Erryk stepped forward, lifting the frail prince and placing him on the horse’s back.

He untied the reins, led the horse out of the enclosure, and mounted. With one arm around the young prince and the other holding the reins, he gave the horse a nudge with his legs.

"Hyah!"

Before long, the black horse trotted out of the camp and onto the King’s Wood trail.

"Ser, do you have any idea where my sister might be?"

Rhaegar’s hair fluttered in the wind as he questioned the knight.

Erryk’s expression was grave as he replied, "Criston is a sharp man. He’s left markers along the way."

Hearing this, Rhaegar relaxed.

Those worthy of joining the Kingsguard weren’t ordinary men. Leaving clues like this would be second nature.

Time passed quickly.

The sun was high when they left camp, but now dusk was settling in.

In the golden light of the setting sun, Erryk led the black horse slowly along a forest path thick with pine and cypress.

"Ser, I have reason to believe that my luck is terrible. I’m not suited for searches," Rhaegar murmured weakly, slumped over the horse’s back. His lips were pale, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Erryk sighed. "Perhaps. Cole’s trail disappeared halfway, and now we’re like headless flies."

"Heh, that must be Rhaenyra’s doing. She doesn’t want anyone to find her."

Rhaegar shook his head with a bitter smile.

Erryk didn’t respond. He was too busy scanning the surroundings, trying to find the way back to camp.

The King’s Wood was vast, and Rhaegar’s haphazard directions had led them too far.

Rustle... rustle...

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps crunching through the underbrush came from behind them.

Erryk, ever vigilant as one of the kingdom’s finest guards, immediately sensed danger and turned his sharp gaze toward the sound.

Rhaegar, already exhausted and frail, had no idea what was happening.

Erryk began to back the horse away slowly, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. In a low voice, he said, "Prince, something’s coming from over there. It’s big."

"Is it dangerous?"

Rhaegar immediately adjusted his posture.

“I don’t know. It depends on the nature of what’s coming—poachers or a wild boar?”

Rhaegar whispered cautiously, “Should we ride away quickly to avoid a confrontation?”

Elyck’s voice carried a hint of pride: “Don’t worry, Prince. I’ll shield you with my life.”

As they spoke, the noise grew louder and closer.

A towering, snow-white stag emerged gracefully from the forest, appearing before the two of them.

“A white stag!?”

Rhaegar stared in awe at the elegant creature.

He had a penchant for reading history and knew a lot about various traditions.

Before Aegon the Conqueror unified the continent of Westeros, in the time before dragons, kings of the land regarded white stags as symbols of good fortune and royal authority.

Over a hundred years had passed since then, and white stags had long vanished from the eyes of the world.

To Rhaegar amazement, one still roamed the royal forest.

“Prince, now is not the time for curiosity. This stag is enormous—if it charges, it will be a force to reckon with.”

Elyck’s expression shifted slightly as he fixed his gaze on the stag, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, which was partially drawn.

Only after hearing this did Rhaegar take note of the stag’s immense size.

Without even counting its massive antlers, the stag’s shoulder height was around two meters, and its body length exceeded five meters.

Its silky, white fur gleamed like satin, concealing layers of powerful muscles beneath—a clear testament to the staggering strength this noble creature could unleash.

“Can you take it down?”

Rhaegar sounded a bit worried.

Elyck replied, “One-on-one, I’d say my chances are fifty-fifty.”

“What if I help?”

“Pray it doesn’t attack us first,” Elyck answered, his tone tinged with resignation.

Rhaegar rested his hand on his forehead, feeling the weight of his own frail limbs.

“Yoo~ Yoo~”

Perhaps fate still favored them.

The white stag didn’t attack. Instead, it let out a soft call, its amber eyes filled with curiosity and innocence.

“It doesn’t seem to have a wild beast’s aggression?”

Noticing this, Rhaegar racing heart calmed slightly, leaving him with a faint sense of relief and exhilaration.

“Yoo~ Yoo~”

Seeing that they made no sudden movements, the stag slowly approached, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air.

“Sir, help me down.”

The closer Rhaegar looked into the stag’s eyes, the more he felt its extraordinary nature. He asked Elyck for assistance.

“Prince, it’s dangerous…”

“The white stag is a symbol of good fortune. I don’t believe it’s a mere beast.”

Rhaegar interrupted Elyck’s warning with a bright smile directed at the stag, beckoning it gently.

“Come here, my friend.”

The stag slightly lowered its head, adopting a stance that hinted at readiness for defense, its curious gaze fixed on the young human atop the horse.

“Hurry, help me down, Sir.”

“Be cautious, Prince—this is no joking matter.”

After Rhaegar repeated urging, Elyck reluctantly helped him dismount, his face filled with unease.

Once on the ground, Rega untied a small pouch from his waist and retrieved a handful of red grapes he had stored away. Speaking softly, he called out:

“My friend, would you like to try these?”

The sight of the bright red fruit caught the stag’s attention, its eyes lighting up as it involuntarily stepped closer.

When the distance between them narrowed to less than three meters, Elyck’s sharp eyes remained watchful, and his sword was silently drawn further from its sheath.

Rhaegar quickly intervened. “Put away your weapon. Don’t frighten my friend.”

“But, Prince…”

“That’s an order, Sir!”

Under the stag’s wary gaze, Elyck reluctantly sheathed his sword and followed closely behind Rhaegar.

If danger arose, he was determined to shield the Prince at all costs.

---

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 9: The White Knight's Astonishment

Fortunately, disaster did not strike.

The white deer drew closer, and Rhaegar hands and feet trembled slightly. He cautiously moved forward, raising his hands above his head.

“Yoo, yoo~”

Under the setting sun, the shadows of the boy and the deer overlapped.

The white deer stopped in front of Rhaegar, lowered its head, and sniffed at the grapes he held out in his small hands. It stretched out its tongue, rolled up a grape, and began chewing.

The sweet flesh of the fruit burst with juice, filling the deer’s mouth with a refreshing taste, offering it a new and delightful experience.

After swallowing one grape, it quickly devoured the rest.

Rhaegar watched the deer with excitement, but due to insufficient blood circulation to his heart, his face gradually turned pale. Cold sweat soaked through his thin, elegant clothes.

“Good buddy, you’ve eaten my stash. Now, let me pet you a little.”

As he spoke, Rhaegar took deep breaths, stretching out his small hand under the deer’s clear gaze.

He touched the silky fur of its long neck.

“Yoo, yoo?”

The white deer didn’t flinch, letting the young human stroke it. It even nudged his satchel with its nose.

Rhaegar beamed. “You little glutton, you smelled that I’ve got more treats?”

Hugging the deer’s neck with one arm, Rhaegar pressed his cheek against its snowy-white fur, gently nuzzling it.

With his other hand, he opened the small pouch and poured out the remaining contents all at once onto the ground.

A few grapes, a slice of apple, half an orange...

The white deer didn’t hold back, lowering its head to eat ravenously.

Watching this scene, Elick was utterly shocked. His lips moved slightly. “Your Highness…”

Rhaegar turned to look at the bewildered Elick. A faint blush crept onto his pale face as he stammered shyly, “These were just leftover fruits I hadn’t finished. It would’ve been wasteful to throw them away.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean... I mean…”

At this moment, Elick found himself utterly speechless.

Even someone as unshakable as him, who wouldn’t bat an eye when surrounded by assassins, was deeply astonished.

A white deer voluntarily approached a human.

In the recorded history of the Vislote continent, there had never been anything so extraordinary.

If poets and bards were to hear of this, it would surely become a legendary tale passed down through the ages.

Regardless of what the White Knight thought, Rhaegar wasn’t in a state to ponder such things.

His heartbeat grew heavier with each passing moment. Accompanied by a ringing in his ears, Rhaegar felt dizzy, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

“Sir Knight, don’t hurt my friend…”

With his last bit of strength, he whispered these words, then loosened his grip on the deer’s neck and collapsed.

*Thud—*

After an exhausting day, Rhaegar couldn’t handle the surge of emotions and fainted.

“Your Highness... Your Highness…”

Before losing consciousness completely, Rhaegar seemed to hear Elick shouting desperately and shaking him.

“Rare creature detected. Contains trace amounts of magical elements. Initiating scan…”

“Scan complete. A pure-hearted white deer. Would you like to begin exploration?”

“…”

“Explorer is unconscious. Exploration will begin automatically. Please wait…”

Hearing the system's prompt, Rhaegar could no longer think. He completely blacked out.

---

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

In an open clearing near the royal forest.

Having fled the camp in sorrow, Rhaenyra was now calm, sitting atop a fallen tree.

In front of her, a handsome knight in silver armor and a white robe set down his sword and skillfully lit a campfire.

“Ser Cole, I didn’t expect your talents to extend beyond combat,” Rhaenyra teased, propping her chin in her hands.

With a smile, Cole, his dark curly hair framing his face, worked on preparing a rabbit he had hunted. “I come from humble beginnings. Before becoming a knight, I had to do all the chores myself.”

It was undeniable—Criston Cole was truly exceptional.

Not only was he a knight of great honor, but his good looks also charmed many young women.

His gentle demeanor and pure gaze were a deadly combination.

Starved for affection, Rhaenyra was utterly smitten with her White Knight.

She gazed at him with starry-eyed admiration as he worked on dinner.

If Rega were present, he would swear by the Seven Gods that even if Cole served her a piece of burnt charcoal, Rhaenyra would eat it without hesitation.

*Rustle, rustle…*

Just as the rabbit began to roast, a noise from not far away caught their attention.

Cole unsheathed his sword, ready for an enemy hidden in the darkness.

*Snort, snort~*

As time passed, a black wild boar emerged from the shadows of the forest, charging madly.

Faced with the onslaught of a fully grown wild boar, Cole’s eyes widened. He quickly dodged to the side.

With a swift adjustment of his stance, his sword sliced the boar, leaving a wound on its body.

*Snort, snort~*

The boar, its thick skin and flesh largely unscathed, turned and charged again in a frenzy.

---
This time, it targeted Rhaenyra, who was momentarily frozen in shock.

"Watch out!"

Cole shouted loudly, warning Rhaenyra to dodge.

In the blink of an eye, the wild boar leapt over the burning campfire, charging straight at the seemingly more vulnerable girl.

The campfire was scattered, burning logs flying in all directions, sending flames into the night sky.

It was like a burst of fiery fireworks.

Amid the flames, the wild boar closed in on the girl.

Its sharp tusks were less than a fist's width from her soft abdomen.

The danger of death drew ever closer.

…

"No!"

Under the moonlit night, a scream pierced the air, shrill and desperate.

Rhaegar abruptly opened his eyes, sitting bolt upright, his face and eyes filled with fear.

"You’re awake, Prince!"

The next second, Elric’s joyful voice reached his ears.

Rhaegar turned his head reflexively, as if startled, and his eyes fell on a blazing campfire.

"The… the campfire isn’t destroyed?"

Seeing the roaring flames, Rhaegar swallowed hard, his mouth still dry with anxiety.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Rhaegar turned his head and saw Elric striding toward him, his face full of excitement.

In Elric’s hand was a wild chicken, its neck tied with a rope made of grass.

"Sir, where are we? And where is my sister?"

Rhaegar, still somewhat disoriented, asked anxiously, his youthful face tense with worry.

Elric dropped the game he was carrying, approached the frightened young prince, and placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, his expression serious.

"Don’t be afraid—it was just a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

Rhaegar wiped his forehead, which was damp with the cold sweat of terror.

Elric gently patted his back, patiently recounting the events of the day.

Finally, Rhaegar began to recall what had happened.

"Phew…"

He exhaled heavily, relief flashing through his eyes as the fear faded from his face.

"So, it was just a nightmare."

Though the dream had felt incredibly real, Rhaegar was no stranger to being plagued by nightmares.

"Sir, that dream really scared me."

As the lingering panic subsided, Rhaegar managed a small, awkward smile to mask his unease.

Elric shook his head. "Everyone has bad dreams. Just let it go."

Rhaegar murmured a quiet word of thanks.

Then, as if remembering something, he glanced around.

Not seeing the figure he had in mind, Rhaegar asked curiously, "Where is the white stag? Where did it go?"

Elric answered truthfully, "After you fainted, the white stag stayed by your side the entire time. It even brought you a red fruit.

"Before I left to check the traps, the white stag let you rest on its belly.

"Perhaps it sensed you were about to wake up and left on its own."

Disappointed, Rhaegar muttered, "It left? I wanted to take it back and show it to my father."

Elric comforted him. "The white stag doesn’t belong to the world of humans. It comes from the forest, and now it’s returned there. You should be happy for your new friend."

"Yes, I called it a friend,"

Rhaegar whispered, though he still felt a twinge of reluctance in his heart.

---

**End of Chapter**

Chapter 10: The Generous Friend

The friend he had just met had left without saying goodbye, leaving Rhaegar with an indescribable feeling.

He hadn’t even had the chance to talk much.

"I wanted to take a few more rides on it," Rhaegar joked with Erik.

"If fate allows, perhaps you’ll meet again," Erik replied with a faint smile.

With that, and after ensuring the little prince had calmed down, Erik stood to handle the wild chicken’s corpse.

Watching Erik in his white robe, Rhaegar pursed his lips and took a big drink from the waterskin nearby.

“Ah~ I feel alive again,” he sighed.

With his throat soothed, Rhaegar suddenly recalled the system notification he’d heard before passing out.

"Was it just my imagination?"

With a thought, the system panel appeared before him.

**[Rhaegar Targaryen]**

- **Talents:** Dreamer (Gold), Longevity (Green)
- **Bloodline:** Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (+10%)
- **Skills:** Ancient Valyrian (Mastery) …
- **Relics:** Blood and Fire Alike (Flame Resistance +50%)
- **Evaluation:** "Lucky boy, you’ve made a generous friend."

Staring at the small text on the system panel, Rhaegar’s eyes widened.

"A new talent, Longevity?"

Blinking rapidly, he double-checked to ensure he hadn’t misread.

“It really is a new talent!”

His heart pounded, and Rhaegar clutched his chest, overcome with excitement.

“Longevity… does this mean I can really live to be 100?”

Rhaegar was well aware of his frail body. While not completely broken, it was as good as half-crippled.

As his heart raced faster, Rhaegar’s hands and feet grew cold, but his joy only increased.

His weakness stemmed from organ failure.

That was why a short walk left him breathless, and a slight surge of emotion caused his heart to falter.

Now, it felt as though his heart might leap out of his chest.

Yet he experienced only slight discomfort.

Even his hands and feet showed no trembling.

“Ha ha, I can live to be 100! This damned frailty won’t kill me anymore!”

Finally healed after a long period of illness, Rhaegar couldn’t contain his surging emotions and suddenly burst out laughing.

Erik, who had just finished plucking the chicken, was startled by the sudden laughter as he was about to start roasting it.

Turning around, he saw the little prince rolling on the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

Rhaegar’s arms flailed wildly, scattering dirt all around in his joy.

The overwhelming excitement overwhelmed the young prince’s mind, driving him to this chaotic outburst.

If he didn’t let it out, he might have gone mad.

Though, in Erik’s eyes, Rhaegar already looked like a little lunatic.

“Seven hells, give me a break,” Erik muttered with a sigh.

Abandoning the roasting, he went to check on the little prince.

Having just woken from unconsciousness, the last thing he needed was for Rhaegar to lose his mind.

Sneaking the prince out was already enough to warrant the king’s wrath.

If he returned with a crazed little prince, the king would surely take his head.

“Dear brother, I hope this doesn’t drag you into trouble,” Erik prayed silently, hoping that if he were executed, his brother Alec would remain unscathed.

...

As it turned out, Erik had worried for nothing.

After letting Rhaegar vent his emotions for about ten minutes, the boy tired himself out.

Now he lay quietly on the ground, completely spent.

When Erik asked why he had laughed so much, he received only one response:

“A cripple throwing away his crutch—isn’t that worth celebrating?”

Erik didn’t understand.

But he did realize the little prince seemed to be recovering well.

At least, there was no sign of fainting or madness.

“My head’s safe for now,” Erik muttered, shaking his head.

Targaryens and their strange thoughts were beyond him.

He decided to focus on finishing the roast chicken and dealing with the immediate need for dinner.

Rhaegar lay quietly on the white robe Erik had spread out, his thoughts drifting.

He considered many things:

The system’s evaluation of a “generous friend”...

The white stag Erik mentioned, which had fed him a red fruit...

The steadily increasing Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord bloodline displayed on the panel...

He flipped through the system panel once again.

The system detected that the white deer is a rare species and capable of exploration.

While Rhaegar lay unconscious in its embrace, the exploration was automatically completed.

The red fruit was the exploration reward.

**[Magical Creature: White Deer]**

Exploration Progress: "100%"

"Auto-picking up relics, scanning..."

"Scan successful. Classified as an Epic Relic: Blessing of Auspiciousness."

"Activate the relic?"

"Relic auto-activation in progress."

"Congratulations, the Blessing of Auspiciousness has been successfully activated. You have obtained..."

**[Longevity]**

Grade: Good (Green)

Effect: A sacred beast's blessing for a new friend, capable of fulfilling the most heartfelt wishes.

Evaluation: "The red grapes are too sweet; tangy and sweet oranges suit the taste better..."

Seeing the personal touch in the evaluation, Rhaegar couldn't help but smile sincerely.

The disappointment of the white deer's silent departure was completely dispelled.

"Thank you, my dear friend," Rhaegar silently offered his gratitude to the white deer.

At the same time, he noticed a blind spot.

The blessing of the sacred beast was classified as epic.

Yet, the activated relic, **[Longevity]**, was only of good grade.

Compared to **[Bloodfire Synergy]**, which was legendary grade, or even the superior **[Proficiency in Ancient Valyrian]**, this was far less impressive.

After some thought, Rhaegar attributed it to the nature of a "blessing."

Deep down, what Rhaegar desired most was a healthy body.

The blessing targeted exactly that, granting him the health and longevity of **[Longevity]**.

Looking up at the crescent moon in the night sky, a sense of relief Rhaegar had never felt before filled his eyes, and even the dark circles under them seemed to fade.

"From tonight onward, from this very moment, I am no longer a sickly person."

"A Rhaegar Targaryen free of the threat of an early death will bring this world a legend worthy of being sung for millennia."

Raising his fist high above his head, Rhaegar made a silent vow.

He would let the world know his name!

Nearby, as she cooked, Elisse sniffed the golden-brown roast chicken, a puzzled expression crossing her face.

"Strange, it’s not burnt?"

...

The next day.

At dawn, a groggy Rhaegar was hoisted onto a horse’s back, mumbling “dragonfire” in his sleep.

Walking along the path back to the camp, Elick smirked. "As expected of a Targaryen child, dreaming about riding dragons."

The morning dew gradually disappeared as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

Around 8 a.m., Elisse, riding a black horse, appeared at the camp entrance.

“Elick, you’re finally back.”

Before they could enter the camp, a figure darted out from the corner, a voice filled with surprise.

Rhaegar, now fully awake, turned his gaze and saw a face identical to Elick’s.

No need to guess.

This was Elick’s twin brother, Aryck Cargyll.

Aryck, looking anxious, grabbed the reins before his brother could respond and demanded, "Where did you go yesterday?"

Faced with his brother’s anger, Elick dismounted with Rhaegar in his arms and replied helplessly, "What do you think?"

Aryck grew even more furious. "The king ordered you to bring Prince Rhaegar for an audience, yet you snuck him out of camp. That alone is enough for the king to order you hanged!"

Elick’s expression turned complicated. His lips moved, but he only sighed in the end.

Yesterday’s events were too bizarre; he was struggling to process them himself, let alone explain them to his inflexible brother.

Sensing Elick’s difficulty, Rhaegar stepped in. "Ser Aryck, it was my request that your brother take me out of the camp. It wasn’t his decision."

Aryck looked down at Rhaegar, who wasn’t even as tall as his legs, and lowered his voice. "Your Highness, I’m not accusing you, but the king waited for you and the princess all day yesterday and was furious beyond measure.

"Do you understand what I mean?"

Hearing the subtle undertone in Aryck’s words, Rhaegar replied sincerely, "Don’t worry. I understand your concern for your brother, and I will do everything I can to defend Ser Elick.

"This matter started because of me, and I will bear all the consequences."

(End of Chapter)