Chapter 74: Return to Dragonstone

Sunrise and moonrise.

It had been over a month since they had set sail on the open sea.

Viserys's journey back by ship this time was much smoother than before, with only a brief delay due to a minor storm. Soon, they arrived safely at Dragonstone.

Ser Joffrey, Lady Rhaenys, and the others in the castle were already waiting for them at the docks.

"Your Grace."

The young king was wearing form-fitting armor, with an exquisitely crafted fur shoulder mantle. A dark cape draped behind him, his silver-gold curls resting upon the fur. He wore brown deer-hide gloves and held the railing as he descended from the ship.

It had been less than three months since Ser Joffrey had last seen Viserys, but the boy seemed to have changed tremendously once more.

His beautiful pale purple eyes had become more composed and steady, unflappable.

His once fair and delicate skin had darkened, perhaps due to sun exposure during their time at sea. And, unless it was Ser Joffrey's imagination, the young king's body seemed stronger than before.

Although it was now mid-October in the year 284 AC, Viserys's eighth nameday had recently passed on the ship.

At the age of eight, Viserys appeared more like an eleven or twelve-year-old, far stronger than his peers.

"Fate is fickle."

"But His Grace truly is a good child..."

Sofia, the old maid who had accompanied Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone, watched Viserys disembark from the ship with mixed emotions.

She had served House Targaryen in the Red Keep for many years and had seen Viserys grow from birth. She still remembered his hasty departure from the Red Keep.

Back then, Viserys was thin and frail, like a little chick, a far cry from his current appearance.

"Your Grace."

"Ser Joffrey."

Viserys disembarked and shook hands with the old knight.

He then turned to look at the tall, thin man who followed him off the ship.

His gaze, however, locked onto a brown-haired girl nearby, who was holding a maid's hand. The maid, in turn, was cradling an infant in her arms.

"This is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

Viserys introduced Oberyn to Ser Joffrey but noticed that the older man was not looking at him, instead, staring intently at Rhaenys.

Upon hearing Viserys's words, Ser Joffrey was slightly startled. He had been wondering who this man was, why the young king's entourage had grown, and who was the woman in chains holding a child.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that this tall, thin man with slightly dark skin and a thin layer of stubble on his cheeks was Prince Oberyn Martell, the 'Red Viper' of Dorne.

"Nice to meet you, Prince Oberyn."

Ser Joffrey stood on the dock, his white hair disheveled by the sea breeze, and extended a hand, which hung in mid-air.

Oberyn, who had been staring at Rhaenys, quickly came to his senses and gave Ser Joffrey an apologetic smile, extending his hand as well.

"I've heard your name long ago."

Snap—

The two hands clasped tightly together, then let go.

"Oh? The prince has actually heard of my name?"

The old knight was somewhat surprised that Oberyn had heard of his name. Although he had been knighted, he had always served in the fleet of Dragonstone and had neither land nor wife. He had not expected Oberyn to have heard of him.

"Yes, in Tyrosh."

"Your name is well-known to many, even after all these years."

Oberyn shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his dark eyes fixed on the white-haired old man before him. Although the man was advanced in age, Oberyn did not dare to underestimate him.

This time, as Oberyn's words fell, the old knight fell silent for a long time.

Viserys had been listening to the conversation between the two, and it was clear to him that the old knight had made quite a name for himself in his youth but was now unwilling to talk about it.

Tyrosh?

Located on a large island north of the Stepstones, it was not far from the disputed lands' coast.

However, thinking about the old knight's age and his youth...

Viserys hesitated, thinking of a bold possibility – had the old knight participated in the War of the Ninepenny Kings in his youth?

But this was merely a bold guess by Viserys, with no evidence and no way to trace the origin. If the old knight was unwilling to mention it, there must have been a reason.

Viserys glanced at the old knight, then looked at Oberyn and spoke.

"Since that's the case, it's getting late."

"Let's head back to the castle."

Viserys looked up at the sky. It was already evening when the Braavosi merchant ship had docked, and now the sky had completely darkened. The soldiers had already lit their torches.

At this moment, Rhaenys clung to Viserys' leg. Perhaps he had been gone for too long, and for a four-year-old girl, three months was already a very long time.

So much so that her initial gaze at Viserys was somewhat unfamiliar and timid. After watching Viserys talk with the old knight and others, she regained some familiarity and walked over to hug Viserys.

The young king's heart softened as he lifted his hand and stroked Rhaenys' hair. He then turned to continue instructing his servant.

"Sophia, we have important guests tonight. Prepare a feast immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The old maid quickly agreed upon hearing Viserys' order.

Viserys nodded and then swept his gaze over the crowd behind him.

"Hm?"

Only then did he notice a young, unfamiliar face among the welcoming party, dressed in a maester's gray robes, with three heavy metal chains around his neck, made of black iron, bronze, and silver.

"Who is this?"

Viserys stopped and asked.

"My name is Gunther, Your Majesty."

The young maester showed no hesitation, bowed slightly, and explained.

"I studied astronomy under Maester Veylin and have earned the chains of ravenry and healing."

"The Citadel received the tragic news of Maester Daniel and sent me to serve at Dragonstone."

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