Chapter 91: The First Spear of Dorne

The Water Gardens, situated on the beach southwest of Sunspear Castle, are connected to the castle by a coastal road. Built nearly a hundred years ago, this manor has been meticulously maintained and appears almost new. Its pools, pens, courtyards, and gardens, along with the elegant beams, columns, and distinctive arches of Dornish design, represent the pinnacle of Dorne's architectural style.

Historically, the manor served as a summer retreat for the Princes and Princesses of Dorne. Today, it functions as a sanatorium and nursery overseen by Prince Doran. Noble children from across Dorne are sent here to be raised, effectively becoming wards of the prince. Though not formally adopted, the arrangement leaves little distinction.

While the Water Gardens might seem like an unguarded estate, they are anything but vulnerable. Five hundred elite Dornish warriors are stationed within, complemented by two barracks housing 2,000 soldiers each, located about a league west of the manor. Additionally, over 20 warships patrol the nearby waters, ensuring its security.

When Willas and his entourage arrived at the Water Gardens, they were halted at the gate by Areo Hotah, captain of the guards.

"We were invited by Prince Doran. Are you certain you want to stop us?" Garth asked, his tone sharp as he glared at Areo Hotah.

"Lord Willas, I'm not stopping you," Areo Hotah replied calmly. "You may enter, but he and it must remain outside." He gestured toward Lynd and the imposing creature standing beside him.

"Why? We're together," Garth protested.

"Because he is too dangerous, even all of you combined are less dangerous than he is."

At that moment, a lazy voice called out from beyond the gate.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, emerged from the manor with a woman who was not classically beautiful but exuded undeniable charm. Dressed casually, he walked past the guards toward the visitors.

Oberyn's gaze swept briefly over Willas before settling on Lynd and the enormous creature beside him. His eyes widened with surprise. "I thought the rumors were exaggerated," he remarked, his voice tinged with amazement. "But it seems they were not. A few months ago, this little one was barely the size of a common shadowcat, and now it's grown so massive it's no wonder people call him a monster. And that armor—impressive craftsmanship. What did it cost you? A thousand golden dragons? Two thousand?"

As Oberyn spoke to Lynd with a familiarity that stunned everyone, their gazes shifted repeatedly between the two. None had expected Lynd to have any connection with a Dornish prince, let alone one who appeared to know his background.

Only Willas remained unsurprised. He recalled that Oberyn had visited Tumbleton months ago, attempting to bring Nymeria Footly, the Lady of Tumbleton, to Dorne to claim her father Prince Lewyn's legacy. It was during that visit that Oberyn and Lynd had crossed paths.

Lynd's reply to Oberyn's provocations was composed. "Prince, have you found a suitable spear yet? Our fight ended just as it was becoming interesting. It was a pity. I look forward to your challenge again."

The onlookers were taken aback. Though the response was brief, it revealed that Lynd and Oberyn had previously dueled—and that the famous Red Viper had been bested swiftly.

Garth and the others, already familiar with Lynd's extraordinary combat prowess, took this revelation in stride, recalling the time Lynd had single-handedly faced a hundred opponents. To them, his triumph over the Red Viper seemed only natural.

In contrast, Areo Hotah and the Dornish guards were visibly shaken. They were well aware of Oberyn's skill, having trained and fought alongside him. To them, the idea that someone could defeat the Red Viper so decisively bordered on the incredible. Yet Oberyn's lack of denial spoke volumes, confirming Lynd's claim.

This realization clarified why Oberyn had insisted on barring Lynd's entry to the Water Gardens.

"Haha!" As the atmosphere grew tense, the woman in Oberyn's arms suddenly burst into laughter, teasing him. "No wonder you've been lacking energy in bed these past months—every morning, you're out there twirling a spear like a madman. So, you lost badly to someone, and here I was thinking you'd lost interest in me! I even considered finding others to spice things up for you."

A faint embarrassment crossed Oberyn's face, and he responded by smacking her firmly on the rear. Without addressing Lynd further, he turned to Willas and said, "Lord Willas, I've heard you're skilled in raising horses, dogs, and hawks?"

"Yes, Prince," Willas replied, bowing respectfully.

"So am I," Oberyn said with a smirk. He raised his hand and whistled sharply, a hawk's cry echoing from above. Moments later, a massive hawk descended from the sky, landing gracefully on Oberyn's arm.

"What a magnificent fiery-feathered bald eagle!" Willas exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He stepped closer to Oberyn, carefully observing the hawk perched on his arm, murmuring praises as he extended a hand to stroke it.

"Be careful," Oberyn warned, knowing how fierce the bird could be. Even his paramour was forbidden from touching it. To his surprise, however, the eagle didn't retaliate when Willas gently stroked it. Though it shifted uncomfortably, it ultimately allowed the touch.

Everyone watched in astonishment at Willas's apparent ability to tame the notoriously temperamental hawk. Only Ser Lynd seemed unsurprised, silently attributing this to Willas's mysterious talent for connecting with animals.

At that moment, a servant emerged from the garden and approached Oberyn. "Prince Oberyn, the Prince is asking why the guests have not yet arrived."

"I know," Oberyn replied impatiently, casting the servant a brief glance before turning back to Lynd. "As before, the others may enter, but you absolutely may not."

Lynd responded in a calm voice, "Ser Oberyn, do you truly believe that if I wanted to act, anyone here could stop me? What difference does it make whether I stay outside or go in?"

Oberyn, as though deliberately making things difficult, gestured toward Glory and said, "There is a difference. At least the people inside won't feel frightened by your pet."

Lynd said nothing more, turning his gaze to Willas. After a moment of thought, Willas addressed his group, including Lynd and knights such as Garth. "You all stay outside. I will go in alone."

"My lord..." The group's expressions darkened as they tried to protest.

"Enough," Willas interrupted, cutting off their objections. He turned to the Dornish guards, signaling his decision, and then walked alone through the archway into the gardens.

Oberyn, watching Willas's composed departure, raised an eyebrow in surprise. With a wry smile, he remarked, "Incredible—a wild boar emerging from a herd of tame pigs."

Everyone present understood Oberyn's insult. Their faces darkened with fury, and they glared at him angrily. Garth Hightower even rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to challenge Oberyn if an apology wasn't forthcoming.

Oberyn, however, remained utterly unbothered. Smirking, he draped his arm around his paramour and stared at the knights with disdain, further provoking them.

The insulted knights and men-at-arms grew enraged, clamoring for a duel with Oberyn. Yet, Oberyn ignored their outbursts, turning instead to Lynd as if to ask whether he would intervene.

Lynd, however, remained seated beneath a tree, showing no intention of getting involved. Glory lay close beside him, leaning against Lynd's great sword, seemingly enjoying its coolness as a reprieve from the sweltering Dornish heat.

Seeing Lynd's disinterest, Oberyn decided to proceed. Though killing knights from the Reach would be inappropriate, teaching them a lesson wouldn't be a problem. He gestured for his paramour to step aside, then casually took a spear from a nearby Dornish warrior. Strolling to the small square in front of the manor, he beckoned to Garth and the others with a taunting, flirtatious gesture.

Although furious, the knights retained enough sense to avoid dishonor by attacking him en masse. One of them, a knight from House Appleton of Apple Town, stepped forward to face Oberyn. This knight, the heir to the Lord of Appleton, was a frequent participant in tournaments. While he had never claimed victory, his strength and skill were widely recognized.

However, this powerful knight was no match for Oberyn. Oberyn evaded the knight's attacks effortlessly, as if playing a game, until the knight grew exhausted. Then, with a precise strike from his spear, Oberyn knocked him unconscious.

After defeating the knight, Oberyn had no intention of resting. He immediately challenged the other knights and men-at-arms. One by one, including Garth, the warriors of The Reach faced Oberyn, only to be defeated without exception by his spear. Garth alone managed to hold his ground for a few rounds, though his longsword was ultimately knocked from his grasp.

Despite his triumphs, the prolonged combat left Oberyn slightly winded. He leaned on his spear to steady himself, while the Dorne warriors surrounding him gazed at him in admiration. If the setting had been more appropriate, they might have already erupted into cheers, chanting "Red Viper."

A smirk of satisfaction spread across Oberyn's face. He turned to his paramour, who appeared flushed from the excitement of the spectacle, and gave her a knowing wink—a playful rebuttal to her earlier remark about his supposed lack of energy.

But his smug expression quickly faded when his gaze shifted to Lynd. A sense of disinterest crept in as he realized these battles with ordinary knights no longer excited him, especially after witnessing Lynd's immense power. The comparison drained any lingering enthusiasm for the fight.

Still, Oberyn refrained from challenging Lynd. He was acutely aware of how much stronger Lynd had grown since their time in Tumbleton. Picking a fight with him now would only shatter the morale he had just bolstered among the Dorne warriors.

"What a bore," Oberyn muttered, tossing the spear to one of his guards. He ordered them to escort the defeated knights of The Reach to the manor for treatment, then gestured for his paramour to return to the garden ahead of him. Meanwhile, he approached Lynd and sat down beside him, his attention drawn to the other greatsword lying by Lynd's side. With a spark of curiosity, he asked, "May I take a look?"

Lynd untied the Greatsword of the Banished Knight and handed it over, a subtle, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. He was curious to see how Oberyn would react to touching the weapon.

"This is dragonbone?" Oberyn immediately identified the material of the hilt, his interest piqued further. If even the hilt was made of dragonbone, the blade itself must hold something truly remarkable. Driven by curiosity, Oberyn reached out and grasped the hilt.

The moment his fingers closed around it, he recoiled, his hand releasing the sword instinctively. Shock crossed his face as he looked at Lynd, flexing his slightly numb fingers. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Lynd observed closely. When Oberyn had touched the sword, it wasn't the rune of freezing power that activated, as was typical. Instead, the dragon rune tied to lightning had sparked to life. This was unusual; since Lynd had acquired the Banished Knight's Greatsword, only the freezing rune had ever activated. The other two runes seemed dormant, their power untapped.

He had assumed the freezing rune's energy needed to accumulate before it could be fully unleashed, a theory supported by its inactivity during his battle against the Ironborn at Oldtown. Yet now, with Oberyn's touch, the lightning rune had awakened. It made Lynd wonder if Oberyn possessed a special magical constitution.

"This is a magic sword," Lynd said plainly, offering no pretense.

"Magic sword?" Oberyn repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow. His initial reaction was a cold, dismissive smile, as though Lynd had told him a joke. But the seriousness in Lynd's expression gave him pause. "Are you serious?" he asked, his tone more measured.

"Try again," Lynd replied, holding out the sword once more.

Oberyn hesitated, then cautiously grasped the hilt again. This time, he braced himself for the strange sensation and resisted the urge to let go. Despite the faint numbing in his hand, he managed to draw the blade partway from its sheath. His eyes widened at the sight of the exposed blade, his expression shifting into something truly intriguing.