"Begin exploration!"
Upon encountering another exploration mission, how could Rhaegar possibly let it go?
He silently activated it in his heart, and the exploration progress panel for the dragon-horn dagger appeared before his eyes.
[Valyrian Steel Dagger]Exploration Progress: 2.5%
"Nice!"
Rhaegar cheered inwardly, a broad grin spreading across his face.
He rejected Rhaenyra's request to inspect the dragon-horn dagger, putting on a weary look and pitifully saying he was tired.
"Fine, then sleep with your little dagger, you stingy boy."
Rhaenyra snorted softly.
Rhaegar rubbed his dark circles and leaned against his sister's chest, yawning as he said to his father, "Before we get off the carriage, I'll return the dagger to you."
"Do as you wish—just don't start swinging it around in your sleep," Viserys joked, gazing at him with relief.
Gods knew if it was just because he hadn't seen his eldest son for too long, but Rhaegar seemed livelier these past few days—he no longer gasped for breath after only a few words.
As a father, Viserys was pleased.
The carriage continued rolling along the road—from dawn, until the sun hung high overhead.
"Exploration complete. Please retrieve the lost relic."
Just as the system prompt echoed in his mind, the carriage came to a halt. The coachman pulled the reins to calm the gentle white horses.
Rhaegar stirred awake from the chime of the system, feeling a tickle on his nose.
He opened his eyes to see Rhaenyra teasing him with a strand of her silver hair.
"Sister, you're so boring."
Rhaegar pushed himself up, realizing he had somehow fallen asleep across the seat, his head resting on Rhaenyra's lap.
"We've arrived at camp. The ministers are all outside waiting to greet us."
Rhaenyra's lips curved slightly as she reminded him to wake up.
Coming to his senses, Rhaegar immediately called up the system panel.
[Valyrian Steel Dagger]Exploration Progress: 100%
He glanced at the dagger in his hand—there was now a faint blue light clinging to its dragon-horn hilt.
Subtly glancing around the carriage, he noticed that no one else seemed to see it.
"So, only I can see this…"
For some reason, the thought made Rhaegar quietly exhale in relief—and secretly rejoice.
He liked this feeling of exclusivity.
Touching the blue light sphere, it dissolved like foam into tiny motes of light that seeped into his hand, just like before.
"Father, here's your dagger."
Viserys, with Alicent helping him straighten his robes, accepted the dagger as Rhaegar handed it over.
"Have your sister tidy up your clothes—don't be rumpled before the lords."
Viserys fastened the dagger at his waist and reminded him to mind his appearance.
Rhaenyra, not exactly gently, pulled him closer and began combing his tousled silver hair with a smile.
While she was busy, Rhaegar checked the system again.
"Relic retrieved successfully. Analyzing…"
"Analysis complete. Classified as Excellent-grade relic — The Wisdom of the Ancients."
"Activate this relic?"
"Excellent-grade?"
Rhaegar paused thoughtfully.
The last relic he had discovered—the Legacy of the Black Dread—was classified as Legendary-grade, with a crimson aura.
Now this relic was marked Excellent-grade, and its glow was blue.
"So relics have ranks too. The Legendary one awakened my Valyrian dragon bloodline—no wonder it was precious."
Remembering how Blood of Fire and Flame had changed him, Rhaegar silently thanked Balerion.
"Activate relic."
As he gave the command, a line of small text appeared on the screen.
"Congratulations. The Wisdom of the Ancients activated successfully. You have obtained—"
[Ancient Valyrian Language – Mastery]Grade: Excellent (Blue)Effect: Complete mastery of the Valyrian language.Evaluation: "Knowing another tongue is never a loss."
The moment he read it, a surge of energy shot from the base of his spine straight up to his head.
Rhaegar shuddered—his mind suddenly flooded with knowledge of the Valyrian tongue.
High Valyrian, Low Valyrian—every dialect, every intonation.
The language seemed to take root in his mind, as if he'd been born speaking it.
"Rhaegar, are you cold?"
Rhaenyra noticed his odd reaction and asked with concern.
Rhaegar shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine."
He patted his chest to reassure her.
"Come now, keep your head up. The lords have been waiting long enough—show some dignity."
Viserys, Blackfyre sword at his hip, pushed aside the carriage curtain and stepped out first.
Immediately, cheers erupted outside as the gathered crowd hailed their king.
"Let's go, children," Alicent said softly, following close behind.
Rhaenyra's brows furrowed. That tone grated on her.
Once, they had been inseparable—childhood companions who shared every secret.
Then, after her mother's death, Alicent had married her father.
And now she spoke to her like… a child.
It was revolting.
Rhaenyra kept her face composed and led Rhaegar down from the carriage.
Compared to the king's grand welcome, the cheers for his named heir were noticeably less enthusiastic.
Meanwhile, Alicent, with her children in tow, smiled gracefully as noble ladies crowded to greet her.
A few idiots in the crowd even shouted, "Long live Prince Aegon!"
Others took up the chant, their voices echoing through the camp.
In an instant, the rightful heirs—Rhaenyra and the king's firstborn, Rhaegar—were all but forgotten.
Rhaenyra forced a smile, pretending not to care, and followed behind Viserys.
Rhaegar reached out, brushing her hand lightly. She turned, puzzled, only to see him flash a gentle smile.
Though pale and dark-eyed, his smile was bright and sweet.
"I'm fine, Rhaegar," she said quietly, her tone heavy with sadness.
"I know," Rhaegar replied softly. "A Targaryen never bows their head."
But his eyes shifted to the direction where the chant had first begun.
In less than a second, he found the culprit—a golden-haired knight with a large nose, standing beside an older noblewoman.
He looked like one of those arrogant Westerlands knights, good with bow and horse.
"Big-nosed idiot," Rhaegar muttered to himself, memorizing the man's face.
Not for revenge—
Just because that nose looked like it deserved a punch.
After the grand welcome, the camp erupted into celebration.
Tables overflowed with wine, fruit, and cakes for the lords and their families who'd come for the royal hunt.
Viserys entered the main tent and took his seat upon the small throne, receiving the courtiers' greetings.
Rhaenyra and Rhaegar followed him in.
Clusters of noblewomen sat gossiping, discussing the latest rumors from the Stepstones.
Apparently, some noble lady had been captured by the Crabfeeder's pirates.
As soon as Rhaenyra approached, a richly dressed old woman with white hair called her over, asking for her opinion.
Rhaenyra, pleased by the attention, smiled and joined in—only to realize moments later that the woman's intent was malicious.
Barely two sentences in, she began insinuating that Rhaenyra's uncle Daemon had gone to war without leave, questioning whether Rhaenyra was fit to inherit his place as heir.
"Lady Gilra," Queen Alicent interjected smoothly from nearby, "Prince Daemon brought that upon himself. The princess is far more suited for the position of heir."
As the king's wife, she had to say this—keeping up appearances was part of her duty.
After all, whether the succession went to Rhaenyra or her own children, it remained within the same family.
And she could not allow gossip that hinted Daemon had been wrongfully deprived of his rights to spread.
Lady Gilra, silenced for a moment, quickly changed her target—now condemning Daemon's war instead.
"Because of this unnecessary conflict, your uncle has dragged the realm into battle—dispatching fleets and soldiers to wipe out the Triarchy."
"This will cost countless lives and resources, and bleed the kingdom dry."
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