Viserys approached the prince's remains and drew his sword, lightly tapping the pool of water beside the bones.
The moment the sword touched it, a crisp sound rang out, as though it had struck something solid.
It was as if something invisible lay beneath the water.
Viserys used the sword to gently move the water aside, and a gleaming blue spearhead appeared before his eyes.
So the Prince's Spear turns invisible when it touches water? That's incredible.
His heart trembled with shock. He had truly never seen anything like this.
This strange weapon reminded him of an old tale: the Andal people were able to conquer most of Westeros because they could forge iron weapons, while the First Men still used bronze.
The Andals' forging techniques originally came from the Rhoynar. Which only showed how advanced the Rhoynar were in the art of forging.
Perhaps this spear was made from some unknown metal.
Just as Valyrians could forge Valyrian steel, the Rhoynar, aside from not having dragons, might not have been inferior in other crafts.
So it was not surprising if they possessed their own unique metal.
He carefully supported the prince's remains and slowly pulled the spear out. A long spear, entirely blue in color, emerged in full view.
It was around two meters long, heavy and solid in his hands.
But what was most astonishing was the spearhead—made of a crystal-like material, nearly translucent.
It looked unbelievably sharp.
Viserys lightly scraped the spearhead against the wall, and a two-inch-deep groove appeared instantly.
A weapon like this could pierce through armor with ease.
It had another remarkable property—once it touched water, it turned invisible.
In battle, if the enemy could not even see your weapon, how unfair an advantage would that be?
Unfortunately, there was only one such spear.
But its ceremonial value was even greater than its combat value. With this, winning over Gohor would no longer be a problem.
Viserys examined the spear closely. Blue light glided across its surface like darting fish. It did not feel like a mere weapon; it was a work of art.
Or rather—it was not only a weapon, but something more like a royal scepter, carrying authority and symbolism.
Viserys slung the spear onto his back and took another walk through the underwater palace.
He discovered there was once a passage leading to the surface, but it had been deliberately destroyed. Most likely during the great battle.
Once he confirmed there was nothing else he needed to take, he left the palace.
Returning to the dark tunnel, he found the old turtle still waiting for him.
"Did you get it?"
"Yes, I did."
"Then let us go."
Viserys held onto the rough edges of the turtle's shell, and together, man and turtle swam away from the depths.
By the time they reached the artificial canal, Arthur and the others were still asleep.
"Wake them up. If you ever need help again, you may come find me here," the old turtle said.
"Thank you," Viserys replied, then suddenly remembered something. "The man who came with us—about this tall, around thirty years old—have you seen him?" He was referring to Oberyn.
"He lost his way and never entered. If you go southwest from where you came in, you'll find him soon."
"Thank you."
As he watched the old turtle sink back into the water, Viserys realized his water-drying spell had stopped working again.
He wrung as much water from his hair as he could and walked over to Arthur.
"Ser Arthur! Ser Arthur?"
Viserys shook Arthur's broad shoulders. The Sword of the Dawn blinked awake, confused for a moment before remembering where he was.
Seeing Viserys soaked, he anxiously said, "Your Grace, forgive me, I—"
He had no idea how he had fallen unconscious. His memory was blank.
Viserys did not blame him. Instead, he revealed the spear, "Ser Arthur, look. I found the Prince's Spear."
Arthur bent forward, eyes wide, examining the weapon that looked more like art than steel, though he dared not touch it.
A true knight did not need to try it to know—this was a relic of legend.
"Your Grace… how did you get it?"
"It's a long story. Let's wake the others first."
After all, who would believe him if he said he met a talking turtle?
Soon, the rest of the soldiers were awakened. Viserys stood atop a large stone and raised the spear high.
"Everyone—we've done it! We have obtained the Prince's Spear! From this day on, Gohor truly belongs to us!"
Even the least knowledgeable among them knew this spear was no ordinary weapon.
"Long live the King!" Marcus, quick-witted as ever, was the first to cheer.
"Long live Viserys! Long live the King!" The others echoed.
Viserys held the spear aloft, accepting their cheers.
The Jona sisters, however, stared at the spear, stunned. They could not accept what they were seeing.
The Prince's Spear was a holy relic of the Rhoynar people—now in the hands of a Valyrian. Especially Jona—her heart burned with disbelief and grief.
Why? Why? Why?
Viserys noticed their resentment but did not care.
With this spear, he no longer needed Lothan's support. The old man could forget marrying his granddaughter to gain power in Gohor.
Viserys would grant him some authority, but the final decisions would be his alone.
Handing the spear to Arthur, he said:
"Ser Arthur, please keep it safe for me."
"You may rely on me, Your Grace," Arthur replied firmly.
Still embarrassed by his unexplained unconsciousness, he would not allow another mistake—especially not with such an important relic.
The group gathered and made their way back the way they came, collecting the guards from the torch posts as they moved.
This expedition was nothing short of a miracle.
Over a hundred men, and not a single death. Not even serious injuries—only a few scratches from crabs.
In the army, such scrapes were not even considered wounds.
Except—for Oberyn.
Too excited when he left, he brought only a single wineskin. On that alone, he had survived for three days.
Three days without food had left him dizzy, weak in the knees.
He no longer cared for the Prince's Spear.
Over the past two days, he had heard distant rumbling sounds. He assumed Viserys and the others must have met disaster.
Perhaps Viserys was already dead.
All Oberyn wanted now was to return, take Elia and her children, and leave Dorne far behind.
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