Rumors

The sky was overcast.

The sea was rough.

The wind howled incessantly.

Rhaegar's slender figure climbed a coconut tree, staring in panic at the rising water.

The cold seawater flooded his ankles, gradually swallowing his calves.

He wanted to shout for help, but his throat felt blocked, and he couldn't utter a single sound no matter how hard he tried.

Rumble--

A bolt of lightning split the dim sky, like a silver bottle shattering, deafeningly loud.

The dark clouds churned and surged, suddenly unleashing a torrential downpour that washed over the helpless Rhaegar.

"So cold, where is this?"

The chilling rainwater soaked Rhaegar's skin, his confused mind filled with rising thoughts.

"Hiss... Caw..."

Accompanied by a clap of thunder, the roar of a giant beast echoed from the horizon, a continuous reverberation.

Rhaegar blankly raised his head, and with the help of the lightning's glow, saw a colossal creature tear through the heavy dark clouds, its wings beating as it soared into the distance.

Rhaegar wanted to get a clear look at the beast, but only the noisy rain filled his ears.

Rainwater streamed down his cheeks, and Rhaegar raised a hand to wipe it away.

When he opened his eyes again, the beast had somehow flown back, its wings spread wide as it dove towards the island where he stood.

"Ah! Don't come near!?"

A blurry, enormous shadow engulfed him. Rhaegar couldn't help but scream, and his vision went black.

The next second.

Rhaegar opened his eyes and shot up from the bed.

"What was that!"

His chest heaved violently, Rhaegar's nerves taut as he fearfully scanned his surroundings.

His eyes took in the familiar layout of the room.

Stunned for a long moment, Rhaegar wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, collapsed onto the bed, and said with lingering fear:

"Damn it, another nightmare, and it even connected to the last one!"

Normally, his nightmares would be different each night, refreshing every few days.

But this dream had appeared for two consecutive nights, and it was too much for him to handle.

Rhaegar sighed, "Perhaps it's a case of 'you think about it by day, you dream about it by night'!"

Yesterday, he had been reading ancient texts until late into the night, his mind constantly dwelling on the Dreamer.

And now, the nightmares had connected.

"When something unusual happens, there's always a reason. Consecutive dreams are rare and definitely carry some kind of prophecy."

Rhaegar tugged hard at his hair, muttering in annoyance.

After washing up, a servant brought his usual breakfast of bread, milk, and a fried egg.

"Are you going to watch the tournament today, Prince?"

Finishing his last sip of milk, Illyric entered the room, arriving at just the right moment.

Rhaegar gently wiped the milk from the corner of his mouth and said calmly, "There's nothing worth watching. I'll go to the Dragonpit instead; I've never been."

"Understood."

Illyric responded in a low voice.

Before leaving, Rhaegar picked up a drawing from the table and carefully rolled it up.

The Dragonpit was not close to the Red Keep, so a servant had prepared a carriage to take them there.

They left the Red Keep and entered the city of King's Landing.

Illyric occasionally stole glances at Rhaegar, looking as though he had something to say but hesitated.

Annoyed by the constant staring, Rhaegar asked, "Sir, is something wrong with my attire? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No, it's just that you seem a bit down today."

Illyric voiced his concern.

They had already traveled some distance, and the usually cheerful Prince had been silent the entire time, making it hard for him not to worry.

Rhaegar's eyes were filled with fatigue and melancholy. "I had another nightmare."

Hearing this, Illyric finally noticed the increasingly dark circles under the Prince's fair eyes.

He was starting to look like he had panda eyes.

"Prince, perhaps you should find a Maester to help with your mind. Insomnia and frequent dreams are not a good omen."

Illyric offered his advice.

Rhaegar smiled mysteriously, "No need. My father instructed me to learn to accept dreams, whether sweet or bitter."

"If you'll forgive my saying so, you prefer sweet things."

Illyric frowned slightly.

"Don't worry about me. Life is full of all sorts of flavors, bitter and sweet. Tasting them all early might not be a bad thing."

Rhaegar interrupted Illyric's counsel and asked where he could find a good blacksmith.

Illyric said, "There's a good blacksmith on Silk Street. Old Owain's craftsmanship is known far and wide."

"Then let's go there. I need to pick up some things too."

Having made up his mind, Illyric instructed the driver to head for their destination.

The royal carriage was not only luxurious but also fast.

It paraded through street after street, entering the renowned Silk Street.

Finally, it stopped in front of an inconspicuous blacksmith's shop.

Rhaegar lifted the curtain and looked out. He could see a strong young man hammering away at the forge, sparks flying.

"That's Old Owain's grandson, an apprentice blacksmith," Illyric mentioned, escorting Rhaegar out of the carriage.

"Go call your grandfather out. Tell him a distinguished guest wishes to see him."

Tossing a gold coin to the apprentice blacksmith, Illyric ordered him without politeness.

"Yes, my noble White Knight."

Seeing the silver armor and white cloak, the apprentice blacksmith quickly put down his work and ran into the shop.

Before long, a short, stout old man with a full beard emerged.

He was the owner of this blacksmith's shop.

Old Owain strode up to the two of them, his voice booming, "Esteemed guests, Blacksmith Owain welcomes your arrival."

As he spoke, he bowed laboriously towards Rhaegar.

Rhaegar sized up the stout old man, finding him amusing.

The two stood facing each other. Old Owain wasn't much taller than Rhaegar, but he was wide enough to fold him in several times over.

Rhaegar took out a rolled-up scroll of parchment and instructed, "This is a design for a bracelet. I want you to craft an identical one as quickly as possible."

"No problem. Is it to your wrist size?"

"Yes, this bracelet is to replace a gift that didn't fit."

Having understood the client's needs, Old Owain patted his chest confidently, "Rest assured, you can pick up the bracelet before sunset. I guarantee it will be perfect."

"I trust Illyric's recommendation. Give him the payment, Sir."

Rhaegar concluded the transaction cleanly and efficiently.

However, Old Owain did not accept the coin pouch Illyric offered. He said without room for refusal, "I don't want money. To have a Prince wear my work is the most precious reward."

"Oh? How did you know I was a Prince? Why don't you guess which Prince I am?"

Rhaegar looked at the stout old man with amusement.

Old Owain said earnestly, "I saw the King bring his second son, Aegon, to an event. Your age is similar to his. You must be Rhaegar, the eldest son of the late Queen, the Sleeping Whelp."

"Sleeping Whelp? What kind of nickname is that? Are you talking about me?"

Rhaegar admired Old Owain's wisdom, but he disliked the prefix in his words.

Old Owain immediately fell silent, thinking to himself that he had spoken too hastily.

Seeing his hesitation, Rhaegar turned his gaze to Illyric, displeased, "Sir, when did I get this nickname?"

Illyric shot Old Owain a warning glare and whispered, "Since the hunt in the King'swood last time, rumors about your delicate health and the White Hart's blessing have spread widely among the common folk."

"The King specifically ordered a ban on rumors concerning you, but the people's discussions couldn't be stopped."

"It wasn't until you welcomed Princess Rhaenyra back from her voyage last time, appearing before the public for the first time, that this nickname emerged."

Rhaegar frowned and questioned, "So, my father restricting me from leaving the Red Keep is also related to this?"

"It's partly the reason, but the King has his own considerations, it's not entirely..."

"The fact that it's related is enough."

Chapter Two, three chapters were released this morning.

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