That night, Arthur removed his clothes and the mermaid pendant from his neck. He lay alone on the velvet bed and closed his eyes.
Since unlocking the [Creation] Tactic Card some time ago, he had not yet used it.
There were many reasons for his hesitation. The main one was that, as a newcomer to Braavos, he had many urgent matters to handle. He wasn't sure if using [Creation] would have the same debilitating aftereffects as [Pact of the Grove].
Now that his affairs were in order, Arthur finally had time to test the card's effects.
Lying in bed, Arthur activated [Creation] with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
[Creation] (Original: Wu Zhong Sheng You / Something from Nothing): Allows the user to draw two additional cards of any type, or choose to increase internal mana capacity.
(Warning: Using Tactic Cards consumes a massive amount of mana, mental energy, and stamina. Please use within your limits. Overuse will cause irreversible physical damage.)
First came a strange yet familiar wave of dizziness and pain in his consciousness. Then, his body felt drained, as if all strength had been siphoned from his limbs.
Better than last time: his eyes didn't roll back, and he didn't faint immediately.
Worse than last time: because he didn't faint, he clearly felt the excruciating pain racking his body, like needles pricking and axes splitting him apart.
Arthur wanted to scream, but he found he didn't even have the strength to open his lips. He could only manage a low groan through his nose.
The pain came fast and left fast. Just as Arthur felt the cold sweat soaking his pillow, his head lolled to the side, and he fell into a deep sleep.
In his dream, Arthur saw a greatsword.
The sword was milky white, like pale glass, standing quietly embedded in a white stone.
Somehow, in the dream, whenever Arthur focused his consciousness on the white greatsword, it exerted a pull, drawing his mind into the blade.
Once inside the sword, after an initial moment of confusion and unease, Arthur's emotions stabilized. He realized the pain and discomfort in his mind had been greatly reduced.
When Arthur woke the next day, he still felt drained and weak, but compared to the seven days of bedrest after his first Tactic Card usage, this was a massive improvement. At least he could get out of bed.
After that first use of [Creation], Arthur tried it again every few days once his body recovered. Each time, he had the same dream—the dream of the white greatsword.
Each time, Arthur's consciousness would enter the sword to mitigate the pain and discomfort caused by the card.
Through constant repetition, the aftereffects diminished. Eventually, after using [Creation], Arthur felt only a sense of weakness and exhaustion; the needle-like pain had vanished entirely.
Arthur had his own theories about the white sword and his consciousness entering it.
Except for Sansa, all the Stark children had strong skinchanger talents. They could enter the bodies of their direwolves in their dreams, sharing the wolf's senses.
Later, some could even enter other animals, or even humans.
Possessing Stark blood, Arthur had tried to awaken this talent back in Winterfell, even considering getting an eagle or hawk.
However, without guidance, he had failed.
Now, it seemed he had finally awakened the talent. But unlike the Stark wolf dreams, he wasn't entering an animal.
He was entering a sword—a greatsword stuck in a stone.
Its blade was pale as milkglass, shimmering in the light with a luster completely unlike dark Valyrian steel.
The first time Arthur 'saw' it, he knew what it was. It was Dawn, the ancestral sword of his mother's house, House Dayne. The knight who wielded it bore the title:
Sword of the Morning.
And the last Sword of the Morning was his uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne.
When Arthur used [Creation] to enter the dream again, as expected, he saw the white greatsword.
But this time, he felt a sudden dizziness. When he recovered, he couldn't see the sword anymore.
His perspective rose slowly. Gradually, he saw a tall tower of white stone. Suddenly, his view shifted again, as if he had entered the sword once more. This time, he could observe the surroundings from the sword.
It was a closed tower room. Arthur could only see walls of white stone. There were no windows, only a single door.
After an unknown amount of time, the door opened. Arthur saw a crowd escorting a young man inside. He had platinum-blond hair, dark eyes, and a handsome face.
On his breastplate was the sigil of House Dayne: a sword and a falling star crossed on a lavender field.
The young man pulled Dawn from the stone. The people around him cheered and raised their arms, though Arthur couldn't hear their voices.
But reading their lips, Arthur could tell they were shouting: "The new Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne!"
Uncle? Is this the past? Is this Greensight? Arthur speculated.
Only one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger; and only one skinchanger in a thousand can be a greenseer.
Greenseers could see the past and future through the eyes of weirwood trees—a power known as Greensight.
So what is this? Sword-sight? Just as Arthur was thinking, his world went black.
When vision returned, he saw two knights standing opposite him. One wore black armor with a three-headed dragon wrought in rubies on his breastplate.
The other wore a helm shaped like a griffin and armor divided into red and white halves.
Rhaegar Targaryen and Jon Connington. Arthur identified them by their attire.
Rhaegar, the Mad King's eldest son and undisputed heir, who would later abduct Lyanna Stark, triggering the tragedy.
Jon Connington, Rhaegar's closest friend, who would later try to kill Robert Baratheon in single combat at the Battle of the Bells, only to be defeated when Eddard Stark arrived with his army.
At this moment, Ser Arthur Dayne was sparring with them using blunted tourney swords—a classic one-versus-two.
All three were superb swordsmen. If not for their fine shields and heavy plate, they would surely have been injured.
Arthur watched their techniques from a first-person perspective, learning much.
Just as Arthur was immersing himself in the clash of steel, the vision shattered like broken glass.
When the image cleared again, Arthur saw a knight with a savage face and a mad expression. He laughed maniacally as he swung his sword at Ser Arthur Dayne.
During the fight, the Sword of the Morning shattered the madman's blade with Dawn... and then paused, allowing him to take a fresh sword.
In the second exchange, Ser Arthur Dayne thrust Dawn through the Smiling Knight's belly.
Next, Arthur saw a handsome, incredibly excited golden-haired youth kneeling on one knee. Dawn touched his shoulders.
He knelt a boy and rose a knight.
Arthur knew this man: the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister.
The Kingsguard who killed the king he swore to protect and sat on the Iron Throne.
Just as Arthur wanted to see more, the world plunged into darkness again.
When Arthur saw light again, he was opening his eyes in his velvet bed. The roar of the Titan announcing the hour woke him. Outside, the sky was bright.
Arthur found his forehead covered in sweat, his clothes soaked and sticky.
After washing and eating breakfast, Arthur went to the small garden to practice his swordplay as usual.
When he gripped the [Twin-Vipers] with both hands, he immediately felt something was wrong.
His body moved involuntarily. His left hand, holding the rapier, thrusted and parried with the sharp, wild style he was familiar with.
But his right hand, wielding the broadsword, felt different. The strikes were mature, seasoned, rounded, and heavy.
This wasn't his style. It felt like the style of his uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, from the dream.
The two distinct styles caused a sense of disconnect and discomfort.
However, Arthur didn't resist it. He used a [Strike] card to accelerate his mastery of the right-hand techniques.
Slowly, as he practiced with near-obsessive focus, the two styles began to merge. When he finally stopped, Arthur felt a faint, mystical connection to something thousands of miles away.
He knew it was the sword from his dream. The greatsword Dawn.
"I thought your wrestling was exceptional," Cauliflower Ear said from the sidelines, clapping as Arthur stopped.
"I didn't expect your swordplay to be even better."
"Just daily practice," Arthur exhaled a long breath. "Did you memorize the five Braavosi words for today?"
Cauliflower Ear counted on his fingers, speaking Braavosi one by one: "Veiled, Merling, Moonshadow, Dusk, Nightingale, Poetess, Black Pearl."
"I even learned two extra words today."
"You learned two extra courtesans, didn't you?" Arthur glared at him. "What about the others?"
"They remember these seven words very well. Better than anything else. No problems," Cauliflower Ear promised, thumping his chest.
"If every Braavosi word had a corresponding courtesan, I believe my brothers would be fluent in a month."
Arthur couldn't resist kicking him. Still, it wasn't a bad learning method.
Interest-driven learning was often better than rote memorization.
Arthur liked to learn by finding an interesting entry point; it usually yielded double the results with half the effort.
Sending Cauliflower Ear away, Arthur found a brush and groomed Shadow. In the months since leaving Winterfell, Shadow had grown taller and more majestic.
His coat was black as ink, smooth as silk to the touch. Unfortunately, in Braavos, boats were horses, so there were few chances to take him out for a run.
After tending to Shadow, Arthur followed his routine and headed to the Moon Pool near the Sealord's Palace.
The Moon Pool was a fountain in Braavos, and the terminus of the Sweetwater Aqueduct.
It was also a dueling ground for flamboyant bravos and swordsmen. sometimes, one could even witness a duel to the death.