Arthur shook his head, thinking his imagination had gone too far.
As a knight who regarded his sword as an extension of his own body, he had never given much thought to tales of ghosts or sorcery.
Viserys was Viserys—perhaps Lothan had taught him something. So long as casting such magic didn't bring harm to his body, Arthur didn't care to dwell on it further.
He turned his focus elsewhere.
Just then, Oberyn approached him with a secretive air. Glancing around as if to ensure no one was watching, his sneaky posture instantly triggered Arthur's "ready-to-cut-someone" instinct.
Oberyn lowered his voice. "That fog earlier—was it… His Majesty's doing?"
"I think so," Arthur replied, his hand loosening slightly from his sword hilt.
"When did he learn that?"
"I'm not sure."
Oberyn frowned at Arthur's calm, stone-like face.
"You're not even curious? He's still so young, yet he can create wildfire and use the water magic of the Rhoynar. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"
"Not particularly," Arthur answered evenly. "His Majesty is well-read and writes as beautifully as Prince Rhaegar once did."
"That's not the same thing!" Oberyn snapped, raising his voice before catching himself.
"You said you earned several maester chains at the Citadel, right? Many men live their whole lives without earning even one. Perhaps His Majesty is just… more gifted in that regard."
Oberyn paused, considering the point. Maybe it wasn't impossible.
He looked toward the cabin door, as if trying to see through the wooden planks to where Viserys sat inside.
He decided that when he got the chance, he would ask Lothan to teach him that kind of magic too.
And if I'm the one to find the Prince's Spear… The corners of Oberyn's mouth lifted with a silent determination.
He wasn't the only one thinking about it.
Jona and Jorel were also talking about Viserys's display of water magic.
"Are you sure it was him?" Jona asked in disbelief.
"Yes," Jorel said firmly. "I'm certain. The feeling was even stronger than when Grandfather used it."
Jorel's talent for water magic was not as strong as her younger sister's, but she was older and had trained under Lothan longer. She trusted her judgment.
Hearing her sister's certainty, Jona suddenly found Viserys far more mysterious than before.
"Then doesn't that mean his talent for water magic is extremely high?" she asked.
She didn't know Viserys's true age—only that he seemed about her own, maybe even a little younger. Yet the water mist he had conjured was beyond anything she could manage.
Casting such magic was no simple feat.
It required abundant water and a place rich with magical essence. In dry regions—or anywhere without large bodies of water—even their grandfather couldn't perform it.
That was why their people had remained confined to the upper Rhoyne valley, unable to expand their control over all of Gohor.
Jona's dream had always been to become a true Water Sorcerer.
Her grandfather had once told her that Water Sorcerers were powerful enough to bring down even the dragons of Valyria.
But now, seeing that this Valyrian youth's power surpassed her own, she couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. She looked toward the cabin where Viserys sat and silently vowed to train harder.
Inside that very cabin, Viserys already knew his use of water magic would stir talk among his companions.
He didn't care.
Sometimes explanations only brought more trouble. Let them guess—he had other things to worry about.
He was reading Jim's memories. And through them, he understood why those river bandits had chosen death so easily.
Jim's base—or rather, his little town—was fascinating. It was hidden deep within the Norvos Mountains.
In terms of distance, it lay as far from Gohor as Dragonstone was from the mainland.
From Gohor, one would have to follow the Valyrian road into the jagged mountains, then take the Darkflow River and a series of narrow paths before finally reaching the place.
The town had a population of about ten thousand.
The mountains were poor and harsh, forcing them to live between the borders of the Norvosi and the Qohorik, struggling to survive.
Viserys defined their "economic activity" in simple terms: "Mountain bandits going to the Sea!"
Their dominance in the region came from their incredible longbows—each nearly two meters in length.
In that mountain town, everyone from twelve-year-old children to fifty-year-old elders trained daily in archery.
It was no exaggeration to say that the mountain hid ten thousand archers.
Of course, they weren't literally an army of trained soldiers, but their longbows were far deadlier and had much greater range than the standard bows of the age.
Their longbows were crafted from the legendary purple yew wood.
In another world's history, it was that same yew that gave rise to England's longbowmen during the Hundred Years' War—warriors who crushed the armies of France and nearly reduced the Gauls to servitude.
Those archers, and their yew bows, had changed the course of wars.
Under their devastating volleys, England had won battle after battle—thousands of French dead for only a few hundred English losses.
In other words, if Viserys could someday command twenty or thirty thousand longbowmen, he could annihilate the surrounding powers in open battle.
At least in open battle.
These archers were the perfect counter to massed cavalry charges—such as the Dothraki.
Those horsemen prided themselves on their skill and speed, wearing little to no armor. But the yew longbows could pierce both rider and horse clean through.
There were still over four years before the Long Summer would arrive.
Viserys decided to promote archery throughout Gohor, just as Jim's town had done—turning it into both sport and defense.
That way, at any time, he could summon a force of trained archers from among his people—just as kings of old had done.
Whether it was to fight the horsemen, rival the Valyrians to the south, or face the White Walkers in the future, these bowmen would be indispensable.
But above all, the purple yew itself was key.
Once his hold on Gohor was secure, he planned to march into the Norvos Mountains and claim those forests for himself.
If not for the power of absorbing essence and memories, he might never have found Jim's hidden town.
They understood the value of the purple yew as deeply as the Valyrians understood their dragons.
To protect the trees, Jim's people had conquered nearby villages, sealing off every road and mountain pass leading to the yew groves.
The yew trees needed at least eighty years to mature for bowmaking. The townsfolk even tended the groves—fertilizing and clearing pests regularly.
All in all, this expedition was a success. Even if they failed to find the Prince's Spear, they had already earned far more than they had lost.
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