A vast fleet set sail from King's Landing, heading north.
The fleet flew banners of sky-blue emblazoned with the white moon-and-falcon, the sigil of House Arryn. The figureheads also bore the likeness of the crescent moon and falcon.
Traveling from Gulltown to the Eyrie was relatively easier. The mountain road remained fraught with danger—narrow, winding paths, unpredictable weather, and the constant threat of landslides and rockfalls, not to mention the wild mountain clans who refused to recognize the King's rule.
Rhaegar boarded the flagship alongside Lord Jon Arryn. It was the largest and most stable vessel in the fleet.
The sea breeze carried a hint of fish, but the ship had been meticulously scrubbed to look as beautiful and refined as possible.
"Come, Prince, behold my Guardian of the Vale," Lord Jon Arryn said proudly, as if the ship were his own daughter—glorious, loyal, and reliable.
Blue and white interwoven, the distant sky and the near sea were boundless and beautiful, yet concealed terrible waves.
Rhaegar was the first to board, followed by Ser Barristan, Ser Brynden, Sessa, and several of Ser Brynden's squires carrying equipment and arrows for everyone.
Although Ser Brynden's relationship with his brother was strained, he came from a great noble house and was a warrior of high renown, always surrounded by followers.
Rhaegar disliked the Red Keep's squires, feeling the castle was infiltrated too deeply; eyes and ears were everywhere in court.
I need my own men, Rhaegar thought. This journey is good; I need to train a cadre of loyal, capable, and devoted followers.
Rhaegar did not wear a Valyrian steel sword; such a weapon was too conspicuous, and it was not yet time to reveal it. Instead, Rhaegar carried a Dragonbone Longbow. Though large, the dragonbone was light and incredibly powerful, making it an exquisitely crafted, magnificent, and luxurious weapon.
Once inside the cabin, squires draped blue wool cloaks over Rhaegar and the others, as the wind on deck was fierce.
Rhaegar saw many knights in blue cloaks—Lord Arryn's personal guard. Their breastplates bore the moon-and-falcon sigil, and their helms were shaped like falcons. These knights were heavily armored and muscular. The Vale's overall strength might rank below the Reach and the Westerlands, but its defensive capability far exceeded those great lords, allowing it to seal itself off completely.
Many of the Blue Knights came from impoverished cadet branches of House Arryn, but these men were fiercely loyal to the Lord, his natural sworn swords. Their captain was Ser Merlin Arryn.
Having many kin is good, Rhaegar thought. How many branches does House Arryn actually have in the Vale?
The dragonlords were different; their few chances to expand branches had been inexplicably destroyed.
For instance, Prince Aemon died in battle, and Prince Baelon died suddenly. These two families did not form main and cadet branches. Then came the Dance of the Dragons; initially, the dragonlords were at their peak, but eventually, they declined until only a few remained. Later, the Blackfyre Rebellion erupted around Rhaegar's time; House Blackfyre was once powerful, but ultimately all turned against the dragonlords. Otherwise, like Lord Arryn, he could have recruited a Targaryen suicide squad in King's Landing.
In short, there were few dragon branches. Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps human intervention.
The Blue Knights greeted Lord Jon first, then Prince Rhaegar and his retinue. Ser Barristan's fame was known far and wide, and Lord Hoster's brother was also a renowned warrior they had heard of.
When the squires brought the Dragonbone Longbow aboard, the Vale knights watched with envy.
The Dragonbone Longbow was pitch-black, tough as steel, yet light and flexible. Its range far exceeded ordinary wooden bows, and everyone understood its value. It was a bow every knight dreamed of; knights coveted fine bows, horses, and swords like lovers.
Apart from a Valyrian steel longsword, this was the best weapon one could ask for.
"Friends, take good care of the Prince's bow; it is priceless. It is a Dragonbone Longbow," Ser Brynden told his squires.
The knights exchanged glances. They had thought the bow belonged to Ser Brynden, but realizing it was Prince Rhaegar's, they vaguely felt the Prince was exceedingly luxurious.
Did these highborn scions, despite their flashy appearance, truly deserve such a bow?
If one rode a fine horse with this longbow in hand, how many beasts could they slay, how many enemies could they defeat, how much glory could they win? A trace of jealousy rose in the hearts of the Blue Knights.
The weather was fair, with no strong winds, and the ship sailed smoothly and swiftly.
Rhaegar stood on the deck, feeling no seasickness; the sailors were skilled, and he was not prone to it anyway.
Lord Jon detested the noise of whores, casinos, and peddlers. There was no entertainment on the Arryn fleet. He revered honor to the point of strictness. While ordinary great lords might indulge in gambling, women, and whoring, most Valemen were as conservative as he. The idle Vale knights amused themselves by sparring on deck.
These knights were fierce warriors, and Gulltown was still some distance away, so the itch to fight took hold.
The Captain of the Blue Knights, Ser Merlin Arryn, bowed to Lord Arryn and Prince Rhaegar. "The ship is boring, and with no wind or waves, the lads want to exchange a few blows."
"Granted!" Lord Jon laughed heartily. Since the succession issue was resolved, the Lord had become much more amiable. Rhaegar watched the knights, feeling eager himself. With the Eagle God's protection and years of hard training, wouldn't he be unstoppable in the charge?
Hearing this, half the Vale knights stripped off their falcon breastplates and blue cloaks, revealing motley tunics underneath. They laid down their sharp swords, picked up training weapons, and paired off to fight.
Others remained in armor as guards but began placing bets on the duels. Some bet silver stags, others precious spices.
The training weapons were less swords than thick iron bars. Blunt and edgeless, the tips were capped with round iron balls to prevent cuts and stabs.
"Ser Barristan, Ser Brynden, Master Sessa, care for a few rounds?" a young, hot-blooded blond knight approached and asked. Though impulsive, he dared not invite the Prince.
"Go ahead and spar," Barristan replied. In truth, Barristan wanted to join in, but he was the only Kingsguard present, so it was best not to leave his post.
Ser Brynden's hands itched, but he shook his head. Only Sessa the Swordsman seemed eager.
"Shall I go?" Rhaegar suddenly said with a smile.
Lord Jon glanced at the Prince—tall and slender, his face still holding a trace of childishness. Yet, the Prince's martial prowess was well-known in King's Landing. Young as he was, he already had three mentors, even a trainer from Braavos.
"Does the Prince wish to participate? It might not be suitable; Your Grace is too precious, and our games are rough. You are still young, my Prince." The knights hesitated; after all, he was the Crown Prince. Even with blunt weapons, an injury would be no small matter.
"Merlin, pick a suitable opponent. Don't hurt Prince Rhaegar." Lord Jon pointed to Ser Merlin. He was interested too, wanting to see the boy's skill. Even if Lord Jon wasn't a born warrior, as a great lord, he had to be proficient in arms.
Ser Merlin Arryn nodded. A spar with the Prince; he had to let the Prince win, but lose with dignity—that in itself was a skill.
"Joffrey Arryn, you lad, go exchange a few rounds with the Prince," Ser Merlin said. Joffrey Arryn was an average fighter, but coming from a merchant branch, he was smooth and would surely let the Prince win willingly. Ser Joffrey Arryn was blond and blue-eyed, with a strong, athletic build.
"Wait, if it's a contest, how can there be no wager?" Lord Jon pulled a blue eagle gem brooch from his chest. "I bet Prince Rhaegar wins."
"We also bet on the Prince!" Ser Barristan and the others said. Sessa and the rest had full confidence in Rhaegar.
After all, they had followed Rhaegar for a long time and knew the boy seemed born a warrior, tireless and full of energy. If treated like a normal child, Ser Joffrey would surely lose badly.
"Then I bet on my own victory," Rhaegar said, pointing to his Dragonbone Longbow. "This Dragonbone Longbow is my stake."
Rhaegar laughed aloud, his silver hair shining, his smile charming as a devil.
The Blue Knights began to feel thirsty; the temptation of wealth was hard to resist. This Dragonbone Longbow was enough to be a family heirloom, and they hadn't expected the Prince to wager so heavily. Pity that Joffrey had already sensed their intent, so they decided to let the Prince win.
"Prince, you are young; you may use a lighter weapon," Joffrey Arryn said.
"No need," Rhaegar shook his head, picking up an ordinary heavy blunt sword.
Squires brought a small bucket of red dye. The sword tips were dipped in red, and the contest officially began.
The crowd cheered, the sound swelling like a wave.
Blue Knights, Lord Jon, squires, Rhaegar's guards, and every crewman who could make it gathered on the deck. It was bustling.
This match was not just about the age gap; it was the Prince offering a splendid show for everyone.
No shields, no horses, just warriors wielding longswords—a brave man's game.
The heavy blunt sword danced in Rhaegar's hand, the red dye on the tip clearly visible.
The rule was simple: whoever landed more red marks on the opponent won.
Rhaegar's slashes, power strikes, and feints all required skill.
Joffrey Arryn spun his sword and stepped forward. "I must leave a good impression on the Prince."
Joffrey Arryn swung his arm, and Lord Jon shouted: "Begin!"
Rhaegar and Joffrey Arryn engaged.
Joffrey Arryn's expression gradually turned serious. This script wasn't right; he was supposed to follow Ser Merlin's hint and let the Prince win quietly, but now it seemed Prince Rhaegar's strength far exceeded his expectations.
Rhaegar thrust fiercely, retreated quickly, then lunged forward again. Rhaegar was the sword, and the sword was Rhaegar. He was sharp and dazzling, his footwork swift and steady.
The blunt sword seemed to come alive, like a viper, darting back and forth, aiming for Joffrey Arryn's weak points: groin, heart, even the throat.
Joffrey Arryn swung his blunt sword too, trying to attack again and again, but always came up empty. Prince Rhaegar seemed to have eyes all over his body; every attack Joffrey made was anticipated by the Prince, who often moved later but arrived first. It was incredible.
Joffrey Arryn was sweating profusely; in terms of stamina, he seemed unable to match Prince Rhaegar. Joffrey charged and retreated, but always lagged a step behind the Prince.
Is he really a child? Joffrey thought. Are there truly born warriors in the world?
"Joffrey, come down! Did you go to the brothels in Flea Bottom this time and get drained by the girls?" The Blue Knights burst into laughter, the jeers growing louder.
Joffrey Arryn's face grew darker. Did these guys not know the Prince was truly like a dragon? His energy was endless, not like a normal child at all.
Joffrey Arryn made up his mind and swung his longsword with astonishing force. He had a plan: the Prince couldn't block this blow, then his leg would slip, hitting the Prince's hilt, allowing him to admit defeat gracefully. Continuing would only lead to a more humiliating loss.
Rhaegar did not back down. Two blunt swords collided violently, the impact immense. Joffrey Arryn used all his strength, and Rhaegar heard his muscles straining as if about to tear. Yet, Rhaegar remained calm, blocking the blade.
Joffrey Arryn stumbled back a step. "Is this kid human?"
"Watch out, Ser!" Rhaegar smiled slightly. He lowered his stance, shedding the momentum, then slashed forward violently. This strike was even fiercer than Ser Joffrey's. This was the "Blood of Fire."
Rhaegar's blunt sword knocked down Ser Joffrey's blade, then he spun sharply, leaving a streak of red on Ser Joffrey's throat.
Sweat dripped from Ser Joffrey's face. If that sword had been sharp, he would truly be dead.
The Blue Knights stopped laughing. He really was a born warrior. The Blue Knights were experts; even when Ser Joffrey used his full strength later, the Prince remained agile, as if possessing infinite power.
"Come down, Ser Joffrey. Though you haven't disgraced the name of the Blue Knights, you are indeed no match for the Prince," Ser Merlin said in a low voice, without blame. Ser Joffrey hadn't held back—or rather, he wasn't qualified to hold back before the Prince.
"Who's next!" Rhaegar shook his hair and laughed aloud. His smile was brilliant, and the applause from the onlookers surged like a tide. A true dragon descended from the heavens; did such a warrior truly exist?
Rhaegar realized the immense power of the Eagle God's Blessing. On the battlefield, within a ten-meter radius, he could sense the source of danger, allowing him to strike pre-emptively, or block close-range threats even if he moved second. If he continued to ignite the Blood of Fire, this ability would become even stronger.
Of course, this was also linked to Rhaegar's physical fitness. Without abundant stamina, endurance, and recovery, he couldn't react quickly; even with the Eagle God's Blessing, he wouldn't have time to parry.
"Who else! I offer this longbow to the victor!" Rhaegar held the blunt sword high and announced loudly.
The Blue Knights gritted their teeth. Seeing Lord Jon did not stop them, these brave knights stepped forward.
"He's just a child; can he really be that magical?"
The stake was a Dragonbone Longbow, priceless when Valyrian steel was unavailable.
Sword shadows danced wildly. Rhaegar's sword dodged left and right, like an agile wildcat, yet also like a raging fire.
His demeanor shifted constantly—sometimes gentle as water, sometimes wild as fire.
Several Blue Knights stepped up in turn, but all were defeated.
Throats, hearts, backs—red spots covered the knights' bodies, making them look wretched.
Heavy blunt swords were knocked to the deck, stuck fast in the wood.
Rhaegar rested his blunt sword on the ground, looking at the Blue Knights.
Heroic and fearless, dripping with sweat, his silver hair striking.
Even if Ser Merlin held back from the arena for dignity's sake, Rhaegar's feat of defeating six Blue Knights in a row was brave and legendary enough.
One man, one sword, this formation is invincible!
"I see the shadow of his ancestor in him!" Lord Jon murmured.
Ser Merlin heard it clearly and nodded.
They remembered that man, the true dragon of the Targaryen dynasty, Aegon the Conqueror.
Though he never conquered Dorne, people still considered him the greatest warrior in Westeros, perhaps the closest to a legendary hero.
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