“Can you stop calling it Lightbringer all day? It is just a Valyrian steel sword.” Aegor was not surprised by the witch’s reaction. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and doused Melisandre with cold water. He exerted a little force to draw the sword slightly, revealing a section of the blade to add conviction. “See, it is neither bright nor hot.”

“Do you take me for a village woman who has never seen a Valyrian steel sword?” Melisandre narrowed her eyes, her expression suddenly both dangerous and alluring. “From Asshai to Slaver’s Bay, from the Free Cities to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of Valyrian steel swords on both continents. The Red Temple in Volantis once kept one. I have seen more Valyrian steel swords than you can name, and the one you are holding now, the magic surging around it is stronger than the dozens I have seen combined. You call this ‘just a Valyrian steel sword’?”

Aegor was startled. He lowered his head to re-examine the treasured sword in his hand but could not see any difference, after all, this was only the second Valyrian steel sword he had ever seen.

Although they were not completely honest with each other, they had established some mutual trust and understanding. Melisandre was skilled at using methods or rhetoric to gain the trust or awe of others. In short, she was good at fooling people, but whether due to her personality or the requirements of her doctrine, she rarely lied directly or without embellishment. Perhaps she did, but he had never caught her.

Could it be that this sword truly was different from other Valyrian steel swords?

Melisandre then asked, serious, “What is this sword called?”

“Dark Sister.”

“Dark Sister?” Melisandre murmured, then after a moment quickly recalled the origin of the sword. “Is it the one belonging to Aegon the Conqueror’s sister, Visenya Targaryen?”

“That is right.”

“This sword is from beyond the Wall? Interesting. It seems the rumor I heard is likely true.” The Red Priestess pondered for a moment, then glanced at the few guards following Aegor, hesitating. “Have your men step away.”

Although full of doubts, Aegor still nodded to his men, signaling them to stand farther off to give him and Melisandre space for a private conversation.

Only after the soldiers had moved far enough away did Melisandre speak again. “This is not an ordinary Valyrian steel sword, this is a Dragon King sword.”

Oh, so she would not go on until he asked what a Dragon King sword was? Aegor shrugged helplessly, playing along. “What is the difference? Explain.”

“From its inception, Valyrian steel was known as a magic metal, and it had another name, dragonsteel. For a long time, people believed this was because dragon bones were mixed into the metal during forging, but the real reason is not that complicated. Valyrian steel was always a metal only the noblest Dragonlords of the Freehold were qualified to order and use, hence dragonsteel. But this rare resource, exclusive to the most powerful and high-status group within such a mighty empire, began to be openly sold not long after its creation, not only to nobles in the colonies, but astonishingly, it was also sold at clear prices to countless kings of all sizes across the Narrow Sea in Westeros, with whom they had no connection. Do you think that is reasonable?”

Hearing this, Aegor roughly guessed what Melisandre wanted to say. “Could it be that the Valyrian steel sold externally was not true Valyrian steel?”

“I do not know. No one can prove it, because no one has ever been able to get a Dragon King sword to compare with an ordinary Valyrian steel sword.” The Red Priestess shook her head. “The Valyrian steel swords bought by outsiders have all the characteristics of the legendary dragonsteel weapons, incredibly tough, sharp, light, and imbued with magic. Since the product meets all the claims made by the seller, from what angle could one accuse it of being fake? No one dared to question this openly when Valyria was at its peak, and after the Doom, almost all the Dragon King swords were buried with the Freehold, leaving no one the chance to verify this suspicion until today. I have finally seen a true Dragon King sword.”

Only then did Aegor recall that although the Targaryens were not among the top core rulers, they were indeed one of the legitimate Dragonlord families of the Valyrian Freehold. If Valyrian steel truly had a high and low grade, then what Aegon the Conqueror and his sister held was definitely the internal version.

Dark Sister was not an ordinary “Valyrian steel sword,” it was a true “dragonsteel sword.” The two might have the same physical composition and similar properties, but there must be a difference in a crucial final step. It could be the difference between successful enchantment or not, or whether it underwent the most important process. In short, they are different.

“Do you know the reason for the difference between them?”

“I do not know, but I can guess. It is said that for true Dragon King swords, in the final step of forging, the grand artisan would notify the owner who ordered it. Then that Valyrian Dragonlord would ride a dragon to the site and use their own blood to temper and strengthen it.” Melisandre, as if facing a rare treasure, carefully reached out her slender hand, radiating warmth, and gently stroked the small section of Dark Sister’s blade that Aegor had drawn. “How could noble Dragonlords use their limited blood to enchant someone else’s sword? There were artisans in Qohor who tried to replicate this, but they did not succeed. They missed a key point. What works in blood magic is not the bodily fluid itself, but the power contained within the blood. Not just any blood can be used for casting.”

The witch slowly caressed Dark Sister, her eyes shining with admiration. “Imagine this. This sword was once blood-sacrificed by Visenya Targaryen, or perhaps by one of her ancestors with purer dragon blood. Not only is the intensity of the magic it radiates dozens of times stronger than an ordinary Valyrian steel sword, but I can also feel that this sword’s ability to absorb and store magic far surpasses a regular Valyrian steel blade. Do you understand what this means?”

“What?” Aegor asked humbly.

“Remember that White Walker you killed? I went to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea not long ago and found your friend named Will. I examined the Dragonglass dagger you used, and the fire magic it contained was almost gone, only slightly more than the air.”

Dragonglass restrains White Walkers and is lethal to wights by virtue of the fire magic within it. This was already a conclusion Aegor and the Red Priestess had agreed upon. If this magic could be consumed, would that mean… Aegor was startled. “Is Dragonglass consumable?”

If that were true, the entire defensive structure and arrangements for the Gift would almost have to be completely overturned.

“Of course. What did you think?” Melisandre gave him a reproachful look. “But there is no need to panic. The dagger’s internal magic was depleted in one use because you stabbed a White Walker with it. Are there more Dragonglass blades or more White Walkers? The chance of using the same Dragonglass weapon to stab two White Walkers is negligible. Using it against wights does not draw too much.”

Her eyes moved left and right, and she lowered her voice. “What I want to tell you is that Dragonglass does not have the ability to restore its own magic, and its killing effect on enemies is limited. Valyrian steel, however, is not like that. This magic metal can absorb free magic from the air and slowly restore its own properties, and the sword in your hand, its lethality against White Walkers and its self-restoration are dozens of times stronger than an ordinary Valyrian steel sword.”

“That is great, but I cannot see the difference between one sword can kill one White Walker and one sword can kill dozens of White Walkers. They are not pieces of paper stacked on top of each other.”

“Stop joking.” Melisandre frowned again and leaned closer. “My meaning is, if I enchant this sword to make it glow and heat, the duration of the magic effect will be incredibly long. It will be exactly like the legendary Lightbringer.”

So that was it. This was the real reason Melisandre wanted the guards dismissed.

Aegor’s mind was clear, but he did not wait for the witch to finish. “Enough. I have said it many times, I will not gain the approval of the Red God’s followers this way.”

Melisandre, as one of the senior priests of the Red Temple, held extremely high status. How often had she been unable to finish her words like this? After a moment of stunned silence, she narrowed her beautiful eyes and stared at Aegor with displeasure.

But the man did not back down and met her gaze, until after a few seconds, the witch reluctantly looked away.

She felt very bad, but there was nothing she could do. That is how it is between people. Once one is at a disadvantage at the start, inertia keeps the inequality going and even deepening, until one side gets used to it or reaches the limit and explodes.

Melisandre, of course, could not be tamed by Aegor, but she was clearly not at the point of being unable to bear it either. Her mood was like an older sister facing a rebellious younger brother, furious but helpless. Who could blame her when the other party was the Prophet?

What is more, she had slipped just now. She should not have said it will be like the legendary Lightbringer. This sword is clearly Lightbringer. As for the superficial name, whether it is Dark Sister or Bright Brother, what does it matter? In future legends, such details will be irrelevant.

“Have it your way, but remember to keep this sword well and never let outsiders handle it. It will surely be the key to victory.” Melisandre was full of joy now and no longer had the mind to trouble Bran Stark. Indeed, how could the one who delivered Lightbringer to the Prophet be a lackey of the cold god?

“Uh…” This time, it was Aegor’s turn to be speechless.

“What is it?” Melisandre had offered a casual reminder but did not get the ready agreement she expected. She widened her eyes in suspicion and stared at the Night’s Watchman again.

“I originally planned to sell this sword to Tywin Lannister, on the condition, of course, that the sword must first stay with the Night’s Watch for the Kingslayer to use.”

“You—” Melisandre almost choked, unable to catch her breath. Her tone sharpened at once, and her voice rose so high that the few guards who had moved away turned their heads to look. “What kind of joke are you making?!”

(To be continued.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep