Entering through the dark cave, Viserys soon noticed a faint light above his head.
With no other choice, he swam upward and quickly broke through the water's surface.
Treading water, he breathed in fresh air while observing his surroundings. Overhead, two rows of bright lamps hung from the ceiling.
So that was the light he saw earlier.
These lamps have been glowing for hundreds of years and are still lit… Viserys couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Then his eyes were drawn to two statues holding long spears.
They were Rhoynar statues—one male, one female.
The male statue was tall and powerful, muscles sculpted like a coiled predator ready to strike.
The female statue was lean and lithe, like a hunting tigress.
It seems the Rhoynar were not only skilled in shaping rivers and water magic—they also had martial pride. After all, they were the people who dared to wage war against dragons.
Behind the statues stood a vast blue door. From its style, it had to be the entrance to the underwater palace of the Prince of Nasar.
Viserys could sense that water magic surged heavily behind that door. Spells that were nearly impossible to cast outside might actually work here.
He pressed a hand against his chest, and a misty warmth spread across his skin. His soaking clothes dried instantly.
This must be the only place I can use this "quick-dry" spell. Outside, it wouldn't even spark. Maybe when dragons return, magic in this world will begin to awaken again, he thought. A kind of solitary right to magic—only I can use it.
But he didn't move forward just yet.
With such a high density of magic in the air, what if those two statues suddenly came to life? That would be troublesome.
He picked up a few small stones and tossed them at the statues' feet. After confirming there was no reaction, he finally stepped toward the blue door.
The door was slightly ajar.
Even so, he didn't push it open immediately. He noticed two faint impressions on the surface of the door.
Closely examining them, his expression tensed—they were handprints. Bloodied handprints.
Whoever entered before him must have been gravely wounded, unable to open the palace doors fully.
A scene flashed through Viserys's mind—outside, fire-breathing dragons raged across the sky, screams of war shattered the air.
Armies of Valyria and Volantis, alongside their fleets and dragons, launched a threefold assault on Nasar—by land, sea, and sky.
Someone—maybe the Prince of Nasar herself—had stood on the battlefield, holding her spear and fighting bravely, but even courage could not block dragonfire.
She must have retreated into this palace as a last refuge.
Viserys took a deep breath and pushed open the door that had been half-shut for hundreds of years.
The sight inside shattered all his expectations.
This was no palace.
It was a grand library. A colossal hall of books.
Everywhere he looked—towering rows of bookshelves stretched endlessly, packed tightly with ancient tomes.
The shelves appeared to be made of wood, yet treated in a way that preserved them through centuries underwater.
Viserys walked between them. Books were neatly arranged, untouched by time.
He looked at the walls—alcoves had been carved to fit even more shelves.
Usually, libraries were built for the masses and placed in cities.
But this one—this was clearly the private library of the Prince of Nasar.
There had to be seventy or eighty thousand volumes here. Based on book prices in this world, this collection was worth at least hundreds of thousands of gold dragons.
And considering they were unique copies—relics of an extinct civilization—their value could multiply many times more.
Some of these books must contain knowledge of technology, craft, magic—knowledge that could reshape the world if applied.
This wasn't just a library.
It was a gold mine.
Viserys dared not remove anything carelessly.
Ordinary books left untouched for decades would crumble with the slightest touch.
He picked one that looked better preserved, carefully opened it—only to find the pages were still solid.
When he flipped them, they rustled crisply.
The Rhoynar craftsmanship was extraordinary. But for these books to be useful, two major problems stood before him:
First—how to transport them out of here.
This library was underwater. Safe, yes, but to move so many fragile books was a logistical nightmare.
Second—every book was written in the Rhoynar script.
He would need scribes or scholars to translate thousands of volumes.
Both problems were massive tasks—things he could only attempt after resolving matters in Gohor and stabilizing his own rule.
Otherwise, other forces would be drawn like wolves to a scent.
He set the thought aside for now and began searching for the Prince of Nasar.
But the bookshelves were three meters tall on average—Viserys was barely one meter sixty. It felt like walking through a maze.
Then he noticed dark brown—almost black—footprints on the floor.
Blood.
These were likely left by the Prince of Nasar.
He followed the footprints to a quiet corner.
Once he stepped around the shelf, he would see her.
Viserys did not believe she had run away from battle.
Perhaps, at the final moment, she only wished to spend her last breath among the books she loved most.
Bowing slightly in respect, he stepped into the corner.
There, leaning against the bookshelf, was a skeleton dressed in blue armor. A few books lay scattered beside her.
At the base of the wall behind her was a dark patch of water—but in an underwater palace, that didn't seem strange.
Though only bones remained, judging from the frame, the Prince of Nasar had been a woman.
She was about one meter seventy-seven, with long limbs—clearly a warrior.
Her blue breastplate bore a golden sun motif across the chest.
A golden crown still rested on her skull, holding in place strands of long black hair that had not fallen away despite the decay of flesh.
Even without the Prince's Spear, discovering this vast library was already a reward beyond expectation.
And now, its owner lay quietly before him.
He felt he owed her a proper burial.
He would discuss it with old Lotan later—give her a funeral worthy of Rhoynar customs.
After deciding this in his heart, Viserys began searching for the spear.
If she returned here severely wounded, she might have used the spear as a cane. So it should have been beside her.
Yet he searched everywhere—no spear.
He even scanned the shelves around her in a grid-like pattern.
Nothing.
That didn't make sense. The old turtle wouldn't lie to him.
Wait. The water stain?
Viserys noticed something was wrong. The palace showed no sign of leaks anywhere. So why was water only around the Prince's body?
He returned to the skeleton.
That puddle—neither evaporated nor spread. Exactly the same as when he first saw it.
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor