---
POV: Vaeron Velaryon
The courtyard of Driftmark echoed with the clashing of steel. Morning mist still hung low, veiling the stone paths in a silver haze. At the center of the training yard, Vaeron Velaryon stood bare-chested, his body glistening with sweat. Every movement of his sword carved through the air with purpose—graceful, deliberate, and dangerous.
> [System Update: Swordsmanship (White Bronze – Level 4)]
> [Total Attribute Gain from Swordsmanship: +152.2% STR, +152.2% AGI, +152.2% DUR]
> [New Stats Applied]
Strength: 12 +152.2% = 30.264
Agility: 13 +152.2% = 32.786
Durability: 11 +152.2% = 27.742
He moved like a storm trapped in flesh.
Every upward arc of his sword was followed by a spin, every block followed by a riposte. He sparred against three of his own soldiers, wooden blades in hand, but they were nothing more than shadows against a hurricane. One dropped after a strike to the gut; another collapsed when Vaeron's leg sweep took him off his feet.
Corlys Velaryon stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with both pride and something else—wariness.
"He's more than a knight," Corlys muttered to himself. "He's becoming a warlord."
Behind him stood the hundred men who had sworn their loyalty to Vaeron just days ago. Veterans of naval skirmishes, sons of minor houses, even hedge knights—all gathered by the Sea Snake himself.
( Flashback )
1 week before
Vaeron had approached his father with calm certainty:
> "Father, I will need men—trained, loyal, and ambitious. I will forge them into something the realm has never seen."
( Flashback ends )
And now Corlys, seeing something of himself in the young man's eyes, had summoned them.
Through sparring sessions, shared meals, speeches that cut like swords, and the charisma imbued by the Lord System's growing influence, Vaeron had molded them into his elite force.
> [Army Module: Active]
[100 Members Registered – Loyalty: 80%+ Locked]
[Army Perks Applied: +20% to STR, AGI, STAMINA | +20% Recovery Speed | Growth Cap: Peak Human (30)]
> [Commander's Will Active – Morale: 110% in Presence of Lord]
---
POV: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen
She had come to Driftmark by royal invitation. The king wished to strengthen the bond between House Targaryen and House Velaryon again. At first, she had expected boredom—another political weekend with stiff conversations and sea winds that ruined her hair.
But what she found was him.
From a balcony overlooking the yard, Rhaenyra leaned over the stone rail, watching the silver-haired prince below. The first time she laid eyes on him, it wasn't the muscles or the sword that caught her breath—it was the intensity of his presence.
Each swing of his blade carried intention. He wasn't fighting for display. He was preparing for war. Not with arrogance, but with responsibility. With conviction.
She had seen knights posture and peacock before. But Vaeron didn't fight to be seen. He fought to become stronger.
That alone drew her gaze.
And then came the moment when he sheathed his blade, turned, and looked up—his violet eyes locking with hers. It was only for a second. But Rhaenyra felt something stir.
It wasn't love. Not yet.
But it was dangerous.
---
POV: Corlys Velaryon
At supper, the great hall of Driftmark was lit with soft candles and golden firelight. Vaeron sat at the head of his own long table, flanked by his most promising captains—men who had already begun showing growth within the Army Module.
Corlys observed them quietly.
> "This is not just training anymore," he thought. "This is nation-building."
He watched Vaeron move from soldier to soldier, not as a prince above them, but as a brother in arms. He laughed with them, advised them, corrected stances, and even sparred without armor—earning both bruises and respect.
And when Rhaenyra entered the hall, Corlys saw something else.
Her eyes sought his son like a moth to fire.
---
System Notification
> [Mission Triggered]
> Major Mission: Prove the Might of a Lord
> Objective: Enter and Win the Tournament at King's Landing Timeline: Before the death of Queen Aemma Arryn (14 Days Remaining)
> Rewards:
Skill upgrade Ticket x1
Army Upgrade Ticket x1
Dragon Claim Ticket x1
> Failure Penalty: -50 Army Loyalty, System Locked for 7 Days
Vaeron's eyes narrowed as he read the translucent golden prompt. The timing was not a coincidence. The Queen's death would be the turning point of the realm—the beginning of chaos. And this tournament was the realm's last breath of peace.
He would claim victory.
And with it, destiny.
---
POV: Rhaenys Targaryen
That night, she visited her son's quarters.
He was seated by the window, bathed in moonlight, staring at the ocean below.
"You've become taller," she said softly.
Vaeron smiled. "Or perhaps I just stand straighter now."
Rhaenys walked to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I see your father's ambition in your stride. But I see something more dangerous too."
"What's that?" he asked.
"Conviction. The kind that breaks empires or builds them anew."
She studied him, her expression softening.
"If you ride this wave, my son… make sure it does not drown you."
He reached up and placed his hand over hers.
"I won't drown, Mother. The sea heals me now."
And in her heart, Rhaenys felt pride… and fear.
---
End of Chapter 3