The Secret of Valyrian Steel

A thousand readers saw a thousand Hamlets.

From Joffrey's current perspective, all he could read from the Chronicle of Four Kings was the Targaryen Dynasty's unstoppable decline after losing its dragons.

Young Dragon Daeron, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good—these four kings either flaunted their martial might, preserved peace, indulged in lust and folly, or cleared away entrenched abuses.

It was no different from any ordinary feudal dynasty.

And that was precisely the greatest problem.

Without dragons to rely on, the Targaryen Dynasty could still endure, but it no longer had the strength to suppress the rise of the noble houses.

Even if every king had been wise, virtuous, and politically adept, the dynasty's fall would have been only a matter of time.

Without dragons, there was no Targaryen Dynasty.

Joffrey lightly stroked the Valyrian Steel Sword, black as the night. The fate of my dynasty depends on you.

He had great confidence in his Golden Finger.

The ability to sense and see things represented a great deal in itself. Countless theories and studies had been stalled simply because they could not be observed.

Just like here: although this was a world of magic, people could not directly understand or observe magic.

For that very reason, researching magic was extremely difficult, and spreading or passing it down was even harder.

Ancient magical civilizations had long since been lost.

In the public understanding of the present day, all magic was mysterious—unrepeatable coincidences and miracles, with no clear rules to speak of.

Magic had gradually become legend.

What a pity. This world clearly possessed the potential for a magical civilization, yet it had developed into an ordinary world at a medieval level.

But now, he possessed such unparalleled talent. Perhaps he could make this world more magical.

Joffrey was filled with drive.

The secret of Valyrian Steel was the starting point of his path into magic.

"Elin, bring me more swords!"

Joffrey gave the order to his attendant. The testing of Valyrian Steel's performance data was nearly complete. It was time to verify that hypothesis.

"At once."

Elin Lantel understood his place.

As the son of a merchant from Lannisport, he had managed to squeeze his way to the Crown Prince's side. Naturally, both his ability and temperament far surpassed those of ordinary people.

Although the Crown Prince had given him an incredibly arduous task and destroyed so many steel swords for no apparent reason, Elin remained silent, obeyed every order without hesitation, and faithfully stood his final watch.

Joffrey's attention was entirely focused on the Valyrian Steel Sword in his hand.

The Red Keep was full of prying eyes, so he could only conduct his experiments indirectly. After fumbling about from last night until now, he had finally made some discoveries.

Beneath the White Light of Valyrian Steel lay a pattern of faint white light, similar to the one on the Glass Candle.

Every time the Valyrian Steel Sword cut through an ordinary steel sword, or collided with something of equal strength, its White Light dimmed slightly. Once it dimmed past a certain point, the faintly glowing pattern would emerge.

If he continued, the pattern would disappear as well, and Joffrey would lose his sense of it.

Afterward, Valyrian Steel's destructive power against other weapons decreased slightly. Against Valyrian Steel that still possessed White Light, it could even be damaged.

Fortunately, the pattern and White Light could slowly recover, though the sensing ability of the gems and crystal balls weakened along with them.

Joffrey roughly understood.

The Valyrians used exceptional, unique techniques to forge steel, then employed some method to imbue it with sustainable magic. That was how complete and perfect Valyrian Steel was created.

Was it that pattern? How was it made?

"Your Highness, the swords have arrived."

Elin brought several servants carrying a large pile of standard-issue Gold Cloak longswords.

Joffrey casually selected a steel sword. Can the pattern turn this sword into Valyrian Steel? I have to try.

"You may all leave. I'm going to rest."

The pitch-black night and candlelit room made the excuse convincing enough, but looking at the steel sword in the Prince's hand, Elin truly could not believe it.

"At once."

Elin led the servants away. Before closing the door, he did not forget to profess his loyalty. "If Your Highness needs anything, simply ring the bell. Your loyal attendant shall always await your summons."

Joffrey merely waved a hand.

If nothing unexpected happened, he would have no need for the man's service for the next few months.

Valyrian Steel.

Hehehe. Be good and let me have a look.

The incense candle, as thick as a maiden's wrist, had burned down by two or three finger-widths.

Joffrey rubbed his tired eyes.

During this time, he had tried every method he could think of.

He smeared blood onto Valyrian Steel, mentally visualized the structure of the pattern while facing the steel sword, carved the pattern onto the steel sword with Valyrian Steel, wrote it in blood, and traced it with Magic Source gemstones and crystal balls.

He used a Valyrian Steel dagger full of White Light to cut apart Valyrian Steel chain links that had lost their White Light, then embedded chain-link fragments bearing patterns into the steel sword.

He had even meditated upon the pattern in his mind and chanted every strange syllable and word he could think of.

The results were disappointing. The pattern would not transfer, the ordinary steel sword showed no change whatsoever, and neither meditation nor chants had any effect.

The secret of Valyrian Steel seemed within sight, yet forever out of reach.

Joffrey tugged on the bell rope.

Research and exploration required the accumulation of time and opportunity. He should rest early. There was plenty of time ahead.

Elin appeared soon afterward. "Your Highness?"

"Dispose of all these swords," Joffrey said, pointing at the pile on the floor. "They're no use anymore."

The attendant hurriedly set to work.

After completing the task, Elin glanced at the Crown Prince's figure, then quietly withdrew.

Joffrey had already fallen asleep.

Perhaps because he had exhausted too much energy, he slept quite peacefully and even had a beautiful dream.

In the dream, he had already ascended the throne as emperor.

The Iron Throne's majesty had reached its peak, and every lord and vassal bowed their heads.

His subjects were quiet and obedient, his laws were enforced absolutely, his decrees reached every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, and his armies were invincible. The armor and weapons of hundreds of thousands of soldiers were all made of Valyrian Steel.

Valyrian Steel.

He dreamed of that white pattern.

Without much effort, the pattern grew clearer and brighter.

Gradually, the pattern that had existed only in fantasy seemed to cross some boundary. It gained a trace of mysterious resonance and instantly filled the entire dream.

Joffrey forgot how to breathe and fell into a chaotic state of unconsciousness and unawareness.

Fortunately, it did not last long. All the Valyrian Steel in the bedroom seemed to resonate. In an instant, White Light flared forth, then vanished completely.

Yet the pattern in the dream shone brilliantly. It extended, mended, and interpreted itself, breaking free of all restraints within moments and transforming into something more complex and profound.

The tangible pattern vanished, and the intangible one was born.

The dream ended.

Joffrey suddenly sat upright, opened his eyes, and gasped for breath. He nervously scanned his surroundings as though he had just encountered some indescribable terror.

Under the faint candlelight, the bedroom was exactly as it should have been. Quiet. Safe.

He let out a breath and gradually calmed down. Only then did he notice that every Valyrian Steel item in the bedroom had lost its sense, its White Light, and its pattern.

More than ten pieces of Valyrian Steel. Dozens of patterns. All gone.

After staring blankly for quite some time, he held his breath, focused his mind, and began to meditate.

Darkness and nothingness lasted for a while. Then, in an instant, the intangible one emerged within his consciousness, allowing him to feel its existence.

I succeeded?! This isn't a dream, is it?

Joffrey got out of bed and walked to the mirror. In the reflection, familiar white light shone brightly on his forehead.

He was completely relieved.

Recalling all the twists and turns of the night, he could not help sighing at the Goddess of Fate's fickle moods. What could not be forced would arrive on its own once he stopped hoping for it.

Besides, magic in stories was often connected to people's dreams. It seemed that was no coincidence.

It was only a pity about all that Valyrian Steel.

But since he had obtained "it," the key to opening the mysterious door of magic, everything had been worth it.

Joffrey vaguely sensed the elevation of his mind and soul.

He laughed wildly.

Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire—whether swords or magic, he now had the capital to contend.

Stannis, Varys, Renly, The Citadel, the Others... every rebel and foreign enemy would eventually become a stepping stone beneath the throne!