Chapter 118: Excellence in Swordsmanship

118 AC, Early Summer, Morning

Above the city of King's Landing, a pitch-black dragon soared gracefully, its enormous shadow casting a vast expanse of darkness over the city below.

"Roar..."

The dragon's roar reverberated across the sky, causing many people to stop and look up in awe. When they saw the dragon, they showed respect and quickly left.

After seven years, the people of King's Landing had gotten used to seeing the black dragon. It belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen, the king's eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, who was known affectionately as the Good Prince.

Singers and troubadours had given him this title because they thought he was kind and did a lot of good, especially for the city's orphanage.

The black dragon flew around King's Landing before landing slowly on the hill where the Dragonpit was located.

"Welcome back, Prince."

The Dragonkeepers, who had been awaiting his return, rushed forward as the massive dragon touched down.

Sitting atop Cannibal, a fierce dragon, was a handsome young man with silver hair, purple eyes, and a pale complexion. His expression remained indifferent as he dismounted.

"Where's Erryk? Tell him to get the guards ready for the Mushroom Set's caravan," Rhaegar said firmly.

Maynard Waters, garbed in a scholar's robe, approached respectfully. "Prince, the Kingsguard have been summoned back to the Red Keep."

Rhaegar nodded, a smile touching his lips. "Then send someone to make the necessary preparations. The caravan will arrive before afternoon."

"Yes, Prince," Maynard responded promptly.

Once he'd given his orders, Rhaegar climbed down the ladder and patted Cannibal's snout gently.

"Hoo..."

Cannibal snorted, his green pupils full of reluctance.

Rhaegar said, "Just stay in the Dragonpit and you can roam freely at night."

"Roar..."

Cannibal shook his head, then lumbered towards the Dragonpit. The Dragonkeepers quickly stepped aside, wary of the swaying dragon's tail.

Seeing this, Rhaegar smiled faintly. "Let's go. After a few days away, it's time to return to the Red Keep."

"Yes, Prince," responded the Dragonkeepers in unison, forming two lines to escort the prince to his carriage, flanking it as it moved.

After years of diligent work, the Dragonpit had been thoroughly refurbished and now lay firmly under Rhaegar's control. In King's Landing, the Dragonpit was undeniably his domain.

...

The Red Keep, Martial Arts Arena

Rhaegar had changed out of his dragon-riding attire. He now stood bare-chested, wearing a skirt-like garment around his waist and holding an elegant sword.

The attire was inspired by fragmented images from his dreams. These dreams were often disjointed, but occasionally offered practical insights that Rhaegar experimented with during his leisure time.

The sword in his hand was the Dark Sister, one of the Targaryen family's ancestral blades. This Valyrian steel longsword had been a gift from his dear uncle Daemon on the night of the heir exchange.

Rhaegar often missed his uncle, who always brought him something remarkable whenever they met.

Clang...

The sound of iron striking iron echoed as Rhaegar wielded the Dark Sister, clashing with his opponent.

"Prince, your swordplay is swift, but it lacks finesse," observed Syrio, the Water Dancer.

Syrio was a short man with curly brown hair. He smiled calmly and moved with a light step. His sword, held like a snake in his hand, was poised to strike.

Syrio had been teaching Rhaegar how to use a sword since he was eight years old, and they often sparred. Today, Rhaegar wanted to test how much he had progressed.

He lunged forward, the Dark Sister flashing darkly as it slashed towards Syrio.

Syrio responded with ease, blocking and retreating, maintaining his stance with one hand holding the sword and the other behind his back.

"Syrio, a one-handed sword can't block a heavy chop!" Rhaegar's voice was clear and confident. He kicked Syrio in the stomach, then brought his sword down in a two-handed strike.

At only thirteen years old, Rhaegar already stood tall at 175 centimeters. His upright posture and long limbs allowed him to momentarily overpower Syrio during their sparring sessions.

Syrio quickly regained his footing and swung his sword upwards, countering Rhaegar's attack with practiced precision.

Clang...

With a sharp crack, Syrio's one-handed sword broke, and the Dark Sister hovered above his head.

"You win, Prince," Syrio said, swallowing hard as he looked up at the cold steel.

"Your swordsmanship is the best in the continent. I only had the advantage because my weapon is superior," Rhaegar said, sheathing the Dark Sister. He nodded towards Erryk, who was watching from a distance, and then beckoned him over.

"Prince, catch!"

Erryk threw a steel lance, which Rhaegar caught with ease.

"Let's do this again, Syrio," Rhaegar said, taking the lance in both hands. He moved with great agility, spinning the lance with fluid grace.

Rhaegar was not only a great swordsman; he was also a skilled lancer. He'd spent years honing his sword skills, while his lance skills were developed through exploring ancient relics.

By calling the system, he can see the new information.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold), Longevity (Green)

Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (39%)

Skills: Sword Mastery, Spear Mastery, Old Valyrian Language Proficiency

Relic: Blood and Fire, True Dragon's Blood, Knight's Oath

Evaluation: "Excellent scion of an ancient bloodline, expect that gold coin of yours to always be on the greatness side."

Rhaegar's mouth curled into a smile as he reviewed the system panel.

His spearmanship came from a exploration from a ancient broken lance, granting him exceptional skill at a young age.

Facing the prince's lance, Syrio smiled helplessly and retrieved another one-handed sword from the weapon rack.

This time, their combat was even fiercer.

Rhaegar's spear moved like a raging storm, constantly striking and thrusting.

Syrio's movements were fluid, his one-handed sword blocking and intercepting while his body danced left and right with agility.

As the fierce exchange continued, Rhaegar's breathing grew heavier, his face flushed with excitement.

He relished the sensation of his blood boiling—it was more invigorating than a hot spring.

With a final, powerful strike, the spearhead spun and thrust straight towards Syrio's forehead.

Dang...

The tip of the spear swept past Syrio's eyes, aiming for his brow, but was blocked by the spine of his sword.

Syrio's eyes were intense as he held his sword firmly to stop the spear.

Slap...

"Good move, Rhaegar!"

A clear voice accompanied by applause echoed from the second-floor observation deck.

Rhaegar looked over to see Rhaenyra, dressed in a black dress, smiling and clapping enthusiastically.

"Rhaenyra, you're back from Dragonstone Island?"

Rhaegar took his spear and looked at her with surprise.

Rhaenyra was beaming as she turned and walked to the staircase entrance, then ran down the stairs. "I got back yesterday, and you were the only one who didn't know."

Rhaegar was overjoyed to see his sister after such a long time and quickly walked towards the staircase corner.

As Syrio passed by, Rhaegar swung his spear, hitting Syrio in the leg and sending him sprawling.

Before Syrio could even moan in pain, Erryk stepped forward, shackles in hand, and quickly cuffed Syrio's hands and feet.

"Time to wrap it up, Swordsman," Erryk said. He grabbed Syrio by the arm and caught the lance Rhaegar threw to him with the other hand.

Syrio was more than just Rhaegar's fencing teacher. He was also a regular visitor to the dungeons of the Red Keep.

(Word count: 1,232)