Lady Forlorn, Blackfyre.
Viserys had originally thought it would be quite some time before he could get his hands on such legendary Valyrian steel weapons—true SSR epic tier loot. He hadn't expected the first epic gear he'd encounter would be a relic of the Rhoynar.
Viserys suspected Lady Forlorn was still safe on Tarth, while Blackfyre was most likely in Illyrio's possession.
He examined the craftsmanship of the spear closely. These weapons represented the pinnacle of Rhoynar smithing, especially the spear.
The lifelike depictions of the horned turtle "Old Man of the River" and the giant crab "Crab King" at the base of the blade were not merely decorative. Their shape served a functional purpose, acting as lugs to prevent over-penetration and allow for easier retrieval from a body.
The butt of the Spear of Garin the Grey was finished with a spherical counterweight adorned with spiral ridges, designed for grip and perfect balance.
Carved into the sphere were two dancing Rhoynar figures, a man and a woman, lithe and graceful.
In a pinch, the spear could be used as a double-ended weapon.
Viserys's spear technique had improved by leaps and bounds under the Red Viper's tutelage, and this weapon felt like an extension of his own arm. There was no resistance, no sluggishness.
Many men were good with a sword, but to master the spear, one needed a Dornishman like the Red Viper.
To master the warhammer, one looked to Robert Baratheon.
The Dornish favored the spear above all else. Dornish spears, recurve bows, javelins, and sand steeds were famed throughout the world.
"I never realized Rhoynar craftsmanship reached such heights," Viserys marveled.
The Rhoynar had been forging metal long before the Andals crossed the Narrow Sea; indeed, they had taught the Andals the craft. Their skill was consummate.
Holding the Spear of Garin the Grey, Viserys felt a profound satisfaction. It was lighter than he expected.
A divine weapon is essentially a cheat code. Like Valyrian steel, it was impossibly light yet terrifyingly sharp.
Fighting with it would save stamina and increase lethality, making it much easier to cut through swathes of enemies.
This was a weapon fit for a King—legendary and iconic.
A Rhoynar relic was on par with Blackfyre in terms of prestige. Wielding it was a symbol of authority.
"Bring me a breastplate and a mail shirt," Viserys ordered Aggo. He was eager to test its power.
"At once, Your Grace!" Aggo set up a polished, heavy breastplate on the ground, backed by a layer of mail.
Viserys swung the spear. Without even relying on the momentum of a horse, he heard the cold crunch of steel failing. The spear punched through both the breastplate and the mail as smoothly as a knife through beef.
"Truly a god-forged weapon," Aggo praised, unable to help himself.
"It rivals Valyrian steel," the Red Viper agreed. Even with his vast travels, he had never seen such a fine spear.
The watching cavalrymen drew sharp breaths. If a standing thrust could do that, a charge on horseback would be devastating.
It was said that only Valyrian steel could be forged so thin yet remain so deadly, the rippled steel bearing the marks of a thousand foldings.
But based on Viserys's observation, this meteoric iron core was in no way inferior to Valyrian steel. Dawn and this spear were likely forged from similar celestial materials.
"Your luck is almost too good," the Red Viper said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Treasures choose their masters. It seems this one was waiting for you, Your Grace."
As a premier spearman, Oberyn was incredibly jealous. He had wielded spears for decades and never seen one so perfect.
A spear of goldenheart wood was valuable, but compared to this mithril and meteoric iron masterpiece, it was nothing.
And that wasn't even mentioning the priceless mithril scale armor, the turtle-shell shield, and the fish-helm.
But legendary weapons have owners, and Viserys was the one who unearthed it. By the laws of gods and men, it belonged to him.
What kind of luck was this? A full set of god-tier equipment, and it didn't cost a single copper.
Did the Lannisters, Martells, Tyrells, and Arryns not desire Valyrian steel? Of course they did. They just couldn't get it.
That old lion Tywin had tried at least three times to buy ancestral swords from impoverished houses for sums that could buy armies, but he was always refused. Ancient families might marry a Lannister, but they would never sell their family's soul.
Yet Viserys had just looted four pieces of legendary gear in one go. A full set.
The Red Viper was beginning to think the boy truly had the Mandate of Heaven.
Viserys picked up the silver scale armor. Like the spear, it was incredibly light yet hard.
The scales were inlaid one by one, overlapping like the skin of a fish.
Under the sun, the armor shimmered with a radiant silver light. It felt extraordinary.
Viserys took a sharp sword and struck the armor with all his strength. It didn't even leave a scratch.
"Valyrian steel is forged with dragonfire and blood magic. This spear and armor... they must be the result of water magic," Viserys told Oberyn.
Fire-forging and water-forging. The key was the infusion of magic.
"The Rhoynar civilization... so many of their arts are lost," Oberyn replied.
Looking at the pathetic state of the current Rhoynar villages, they could barely manage basic smithing, let alone forging divine artifacts.
Water magic and fire magic represented different technological paths. The Rhoynar had their fountains and canals; the Valyrians had their black walls, dragon roads, and topless towers.
But why were these weapons and armor buried here in Ghoyan Drohe with a longship?
"Perhaps it belonged to a Prince who died chasing the hairy men out of the hills. Or maybe a warrior who fought alongside Prince Garin in the final war," Oberyn speculated. "Nymeria did not join Garin's alliance, but the city of Ny Sar did."
Viserys knew the secret history. Prince Garin had called for all Rhoynar to unite for a final stand against Valyria. Only Nymeria, believing they couldn't win, had opposed it.
But her opposition was in vain; her soldiers flocked to join Garin, leaving Nymeria to guard the city with only women and old men.
If that was the case, perhaps a champion from Ny Sar had carried these weapons into battle.
But when the war was lost and the Doom fell upon the Rhoyne, bringing the fog and the grayscale...
The champion had no path back to Ny Sar and fled here instead.
All of this was mere conjecture. The details had long since been lost to history.
"Do you not know of the relics of Garin the Grey?" Viserys asked Oberyn.
"When our ancestor Nymeria arrived in Dorne, she burned her ships to show there was no turning back," Oberyn said. "She never spoke of the lost glories of Ny Sar."
Viserys understood. Nymeria had been traumatized by the Valyrian Dragonlords.
She had completely abandoned the Rhoyne, so naturally, she wouldn't speak of sacred relics.
Otherwise, what would she say? "Go back to the Rhoyne and find my gear," only for her descendants to be roasted by dragons?
Nymeria defined herself as a pioneer of Dorne, choosing to forsake the old Rhoynar faith and look only forward, securing her new land.
Burning the fleet was understandable as a statement of resolve, but it also meant Dorne never developed a significant naval power. It was decisive, but also a bit extreme.
regardless, this was now ownerless property.
The only master of these Rhoynar relics now was Viserys.
Viserys donned his new gear. With god-tier equipment, who needed common black steel?
People from the ruins slowly gathered around. They realized these cavalrymen were not savages like the Dothraki.
"Those who wish to come with us may go to Viserys Fort. Those who do not, give them some grain," Viserys ordered.
Currently, Andalos could only concentrate its power at Viserys Fort.
Ghoyan Drohe, with its slow river currents and proximity to the Valyrian Road, was too far from Viserys Fort to be developed on a large scale yet.
Unless they crushed a Dothraki tribe or two to scare the horselords away from the river crossings, expansion here was risky.
"Understood, Your Grace," Aggo replied.
The Red Viper looked at the survivors with pity. The walls were crumbled, civilization dead.
These people were sitting ducks for any attack, be it from horselords or sellswords.
"I will lead them back to Viserys Fort," Oberyn said. It was for their safety.
Oberyn went forward to speak with the locals, while Viserys contentedly packed away his new gear.
Not only did he have new equipment, but he also had his new Water Affinity. He could sense where water essence gathered, meaning he wouldn't have to choke down massive amounts of fish bone anymore.
So, where was a place nearby, rich in resources, teeming with merchants, and convenient for farming stats?
A prosperous great city. It had to be Pentos. Pentos was the closest.
Besides, that fat man in Pentos had invited him.
Viserys wanted to go not just for the stats. The Dothraki had been scarce lately, so it seemed only right that he go and shake some coins out of Illyrio.
Just you wait, Illyrio.
"Prince!" Viserys called out.
The Red Viper trotted over. "What is it, Your Grace?"
Oberyn was curious.
"I want to make a trip to Pentos. You take these people back," Viserys said.
"Without my protection?" Oberyn asked.
"Rest assured, Prince. Myself, Hugo, and Garin... we are the King's shield and spear," Aggo said, raising a fist the size of a ham.
"Very well," Oberyn nodded.
His reputation was loud; if he wandered around Pentos, he would inevitably be recognized. Besides, someone had to guard the home base.
"With my skills, you can rest easy. I promise I won't strike first," Viserys said confidently.
"The Grass Sea is in chaos right now. Going to Pentos is a good opportunity," Oberyn agreed.