The Water Gardens were a flowing feast today, with the balconies filled with joyful laughter, mostly from the Dornish Lords welcoming Rhaegar. Children playing in the Water Gardens dined on their own elsewhere below the terrace.
The silver-haired prince chatted effortlessly with the Lords around him, his gaze sharp and spirited. He was like a raging fire, like a scorching sun; Rhaegar presented himself with great kindness. Yet no one underestimated him due to his youth. His status, his illustrious military achievements on the battlefield, the legend of the three-headed Dragonrider, and his effortless victory over Prince Oberyn's challenge all enhanced Rhaegar's charisma. He was a dashing, omnipotent, heroic, and incredibly charming Targaryen.
Rhaegar discovered that the Dornish were as fiery as their temperament; he could only pretend not to see the many blatant flirtatious glances cast his way. These people were both men and women, though the women were more numerous.
Many people considered sleeping with a beautiful Targaryen a status symbol, akin to collecting stamps. Such chaotic love was something Rhaegar still found unacceptable; a Dragon King could not focus his battles solely in the bedroom. Aegon IV boasted of sleeping with nine hundred women, which currently seemed to be the limit for the House Targaryen; the Unworthy King had once turned the House Targaryen into a laughingstock.
Amidst the clinking of cups, Rhaegar followed the introductions of the ruling Princess of House Martell, his gaze sweeping over the scene, familiarizing himself with these core Dornish Lords.
The climate in Dorne was harsh and the land fractured. Due to the brutal environment, the Lords and their people were distributed only in a few relatively fertile areas, and the number of vassal Lords was significantly lower than in other territories. The people were concentrated along the Greenblood River, the eastern coast of Dorne, the southern foothills of the Red Mountains, and deeper, hidden canyons and mountain pastures. Occasionally, some madmen would find water sources in the dunes, but those were truly few and far between.
Listening to Princess Elia's introductions one by one, Rhaegar made comparisons in his mind. The Dornish Lords were self-serving, and Sunspear was not as dominant as one might think.
Although House Martell was the ruling house, the remaining powerful Lords of Dorne were led by the descendants of the six kings whom Princess Nymeria had sent to the Wall. They had once styled themselves as kings and possessed considerable strength. Apart from the royal lines that had gone extinct, the descendants of the other kings remained powerful.
The most powerful vassal was undoubtedly the Blood Royal, the Lord of House Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way; this family had struggled against House Martell the longest. Accompanying them today was the old Lord Merrell, not young but still robust and bad-tempered. Rhaegar saw him chatting with Prince Oberyn and felt the scene was somewhat comical—he needed to keep his mistress in check, Lord.
The Fowler family of Skyreach and House Yronwood had long been at odds, much like the blood feud between the Blackwood family and their neighbors, the Brackens in the Riverlands. The family of Skyreach was powerful, known as the Lords of the High Road, Earls of Skyreach, and Wardens of the Prince's Pass. Arriving today was the head of the house, Lord Franklyn Fowler, nicknamed the Hawk.
Beneath the two Warden families were the Blackmonts of Blackmont, the Manwoodys of Kingsgrave, and the Daynes of Starfall; these three families had also once been kings. The Manwoodys held the fief of Kingsgrave in the Prince's Pass, guarding the road into Dorne. Their family crest was particularly striking: a white skull with a golden crown on a black field, legend saying the founder of the house killed an ancient king of The Reach at Kingsgrave.
House Dayne's Starfall was located on an island west of the Red Mountains, where the Torentine River flowed into the Summer Sea. House Dayne guarded the western bays of Dorne, effectively serving as Wardens of that region. Northeast of Starfall was High Hermitage, where a branch of House Dayne resided. The Blackmonts were located on the banks of the Torentine in the Red Mountains region, beneath the Dornish mountains.
Then came the Jordaynes of the Salt Shore, the Uller family of Hellholt, the Dalt family of Lemonwood, the Qorgyle family of Sandstone, the Allyrion family of Godsgrace, and the Jordayne family of the Tor, among others.
Rhaegar was most interested in House Dayne, a family shrouded in many mysteries, from their origins to the legendary sword Dawn and that mysterious meteorite. The title of Sword of the Morning was bestowed upon a specific knight of House Dayne. Each Sword of the Morning would wield House Dayne's ancestral sword, Dawn.
Rhaegar saw the people of House Dayne; they were truly striking. The beauty of House Dayne was renowned among the Dornish. The characteristics of House Dayne were pale complexions and hair colors ranging from dark brown to pale blonde, but all possessed a pair of violet eyes.
Leading the group today was the head of House Dayne, Lord Merrell; he was the Sword of the Morning of this generation. Also present were his two children, Arthur Dayne and Ashara Dayne. Although Arthur Dayne was young, his gaze was sharp and his spirit vigorous; at a glance, he looked like a sharp sword. Ashara Dayne was even younger, but she was tall, with dark hair, fair skin, and a pair of unforgettable violet eyes; she was clearly a beauty, drawing everyone's attention.
After the snake soup was finished, there was frozen sorbet to cool the palate. As for dessert, everyone received blood-orange-shaped marshmallows, filled with sweet custard and small pieces of plum and cherry flesh.
But Dornish food was fiery, and the people's tempers were even more explosive.
After dessert, the young people at the tables began to grow restless; they were still green, with raging fires in their hearts. With two beauties like Princess Elia and Lady Ashara before them, and the chance to wipe away Prince Oberyn's previous humiliation, the young men all thought this was their moment to shine.
Prince Oberyn encouraged several of his companions; their courage was commendable, but their hopes were slim. The silver-haired prince's strength, agility, and speed were likely beyond The Reach of ordinary warriors.
Many Dornish youths were also unconvinced by Prince Oberyn's defeat. Although everyone acknowledged that Prince Oberyn's skills were outstanding among the younger generation, young people always tended to overvalue themselves, or even become arrogant, when faced with beauty and honor.
After the banquet ended and things were tidied up slightly, a warrior finally stepped forward!
"I wish to challenge you, Prince!" A young Dornish noble walked over; he had barely mustered the courage.
"Granted!" Rhaegar leaped off the balcony, and the courtyard became the combat arena.
The unsharpened blunt sword emitted a cold glint. Rhaegar set aside his shadow cleaver; it was too unfair for ordinary weapons.
In the shadows of the blood orange trees, amidst the salty sea breeze and the sweet scent of blood oranges, the warriors spun in the courtyard, aiming, attacking, and slashing.
Rhaegar swung his Longsword, charging left and right, like a searing, brilliant blade. The fire dragon on Rhaegar's black clothing bared its fangs and brandished its claws; he himself was like a raging fire!
Violent strength, a violent sword, invincible; his opponents retreated one after another! The ultimate power was the true way; one force could break ten thousand techniques.
Those who left the field threw their Longswords not far from Rhaegar's feet, a gesture of surrender. For every one defeated, a Longsword was dropped.
Rhaegar looked at those dejected, retiring fighters—they were still too weak. None of these men could compare to Prince Oberyn, let alone the Kings of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones that Rhaegar had slain.
The cream of all Dorne had been defeated, and the Longswords were piled into a small heap. The applause and cheers of the crowd surged like waves, coming and going, forever enthusiastic, especially among the noble ladies and maidens. However, many men began to mutter in their hearts; they could not keep losing. Some had already cast their eyes toward Lord Merrell, the Sword of the Morning, the pinnacle of Dornish martial honor.
Prince Oberyn could no longer laugh. Among first-class experts, by convention, there should not be such a gap. Everyone's martial strength and techniques were similar; in the end, it was merely a matter of a little luck and stamina, or who had a stroke of genius to overcome their opponent.
Why was Barristan strong? Because he was always steady—steady and strong. Stamina was consumed quickly on the battlefield; warriors clashing, unyielding, could fight at most three or four times a day. Yet Rhaegar had won consecutive battles, his stamina still abundant, his movements and footwork unruffled. Prince Oberyn now understood that the gap between them was not small at all; Rhaegar had truly been going easy on him.
This man was unfathomable! Prince Oberyn thought, could the gap between them be as vast as heaven and earth? Was there still a gap among first-class experts? Prince Oberyn was born noble, his aptitude was good, and with the guidance of famous masters, he considered himself a top-tier expert even if he were to leave Dorne and look across the Seven Kingdoms. Until this moment, he felt a sense of helplessness.
"If Prince Rhaegar accepts, I am willing to let my son compete with the Prince. The wager is simple: the Prince is skilled at the harp, so he could play a tune for our grand feast." Lord Merrell stepped onto the field and spoke, letting Arthur Dayne take his place. For him to step down himself would surely be bullying a younger person, especially since Prince Rhaegar had already exhausted so much stamina.
"Then I cannot go without a wager either. I wish to handle Dawn for a moment." Rhaegar's gaze was burning; this sword was even more legendary than Silent Sister, and he was truly itching to hold it.
"Never mind a moment; if Prince Rhaegar defeats my son, I will lend you Dawn for a night. To be defeated by a Light of the Seven Kingdoms, I would still be proud of him." Lord Merrell promised with grand spirit.
Arthur Dayne stepped onto the field, and Rhaegar and he struck at the same time; this was the final battle. Arthur Dayne was the final trump card of Dorne.
Arthur Dayne drew his Longsword; the blade was pale, like milky glass, and as sharp as valyrian steel. Legend had it that Dawn was forged from the core of a fallen meteorite. Rhaegar thought again of the origin of Starfall: the first Dayne followed a falling star to an island where the Torentine River flowed into the sea. There, he found a magical meteorite. He built a castle on the island, which was today's Starfall, and established a kingdom. Many speculated that Dawn originated from that heart of the meteorite; if true, the Longsword had a history that was far too ancient.
Rhaegar looked at the sword Dawn; it might be the oldest sword in the history of Westeros, with a legend of at least two thousand years. House Stark originally had an ancestral sword from the Age of Heroes, Ice, which could rival it, but unfortunately, that treasure had long vanished without a trace, and later House Stark had acquired a valyrian steel sword to replace it. Otherwise, it would have been a great honor to have had the chance to see it.
"My apologies!" Rhaegar drew his shadow cleaver. Ordinary weapons could not touch valyrian steel, but the material of Dawn could be compared to valyrian steel.
Rhaegar's figure was like a wild dragon, spewing searing flames. The blade danced and flew, possessing an aura that could make an army retreat and advance without fear; the force behind the blade was like a landslide, making it impossible to parry.