Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web.

Chapter 11 The Newborn “Light of Peace”

The scenery in the western suburbs of King's Landing is quite nice.

Joffrey rode his steed merrily, guarded by the Hound, accompanying Duke Tywin's caravan home.

It was a long journey.

The caravan would travel west along the wide Gold Road for more than two thousand kilometers to reach the heart of the Westerlands—Casterly Rock, with its rock as bones and gold as marrow, never fallen.

Relying solely on his original memories was far from satisfying Joffrey's desire to explore Casterly Rock.

Unfortunately, the caravan probably hadn't even touched the edge of the Westerlands when the news of Hand Jon Arryn's death arrived. If he wanted to see Casterly Rock with his own eyes, he would have to wait a while.

On a lush green hill, Joffrey reined in his horse, gazing into the distance at the caravan winding along the road.

There were well over a thousand people, including well-equipped lords, knights, and guards, practically an army.

"Sandor, what do you think of Casterly Rock?"

Joffrey asked the Hound at his side, assuming he would have a lot to say, having left there in his teens.

The Hound was still a bit awkward, as if being called by his real name occasionally was as uncomfortable as eating a bug. Heh, have I been a dog for too long?

"Casterly Rock, huh?" The Hound could hardly remember, he was thinking about Gregor all the time back then.

"It's big, it's hard, not a good place for fun."

Joffrey glanced at him, what a spoilsport. "The Mountain is in the caravan now, do you want to do something to him?"

It would be better to settle this feud as soon as possible. Having his personal guard wearing a grim face all day, thinking about revenge, was too much of a mood killer.

The Hound shuddered as if touched by a flame, "Prince, let's rejoin the group early, the castle for tonight's encampment is still far away."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Hound flicked his reins and galloped straight towards the caravan below.

What does rejoining the group have to do with the castle being far away?

Joffrey shook his head and sighed, it's all my fault, I definitely won't bring this guy next time I want to relax!

After returning to the caravan, Joffrey climbed into his spacious carriage. Although it wasn't as huge as the Queen's mobile palace, which required forty horses to pull, it was still enough for seven or eight people to rest and entertain themselves.

"Hanna, bring over all the things we brought from the vault."

This was originally the work of the squire, Elywn.

The quiet girl sitting in the carriage took out items from a box under the seat one by one.

Valyrian steel without magic, glass candles, gems and crystals, a greatsword.

Joffrey picked up a dagger and examined it carefully. The hilt was made of dragon bone, the blade was as black as night, two fingers wide, slightly longer than a palm, and double-edged.

This is the dagger used to assassinate Bran in the plot, isn't it.

"Hanna, I took you from my mother without permission, do you have any thoughts about that?"

Joffrey asked abruptly.

The little maid was startled and quickly expressed her feelings, "How could I? Being able to serve the Crown Prince is truly Hanna's greatest fortune."

Her cheeks flushed slightly.

"Actually, Hanna has already passed her fifteenth nameday. If it weren't for you, the Queen would probably have matched me with those squires. I don't want to."

Scanning the girl's pretty features and figure, Joffrey chuckled and ruffled her chestnut curls.

When cleaning up the court in the future, a senior maid with no family background, familiar with the Red Keep, and reliable in her work, would be of great use.

"We'll sleep here tonight. It's warmer in the carriage."

Hanna lowered her head shyly.

In the evening, the huge caravan finally arrived at the campsite.

This was the ancestral castle of House Thorne in the western part of the Crownlands, supported by tens of thousands of farmers within a radius of dozens of miles.

The Lannister family's generosity and wealth were known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, so House Thorne would naturally not refuse and would not dare to refuse such guests, and had prepared plenty of food and drink to entertain them early on.

It was just that the stone castle was not very big, and it was quite crowded to squeeze in a thousand people. The interior decoration was also very ordinary.

Joffrey preferred to spend the night in his own carriage.

There was a banquet going on outside, so he let Hanna and the other servants move around freely, and stayed alone in the closed carriage.

It's time. He picked up the dagger again.

Since possessing "it" the night before yesterday, the changes in his soul had become greater and greater, its sense of existence had become stronger and stronger, and that power was about to burst forth.

Some kind of instinct told him how to use it.

Let me see what the magic of Valyrian steel is.

Joffrey took a deep breath, pressed his right hand on the blade of the dragon bone hilt dagger, and slowly closed his eyes.

He didn't know how long had passed.

The noisy sounds of the outside world gradually weakened and disappeared, and the sound of breathing became everything, rising and falling like the tide, washing over his mind.

Finally, it was stirred slightly.

As if consuming its source, its sense of existence suddenly weakened a lot, and then a mass of cold, invisible matter separated out.

A strange feeling.

Not the feeling of gemstones and crystals, not the special light he saw, but the coldness that touched the depths of his soul.

The water-like coldness flowed through his eye sockets, the root of his tongue, his throat, his shoulder blades, his upper arms, his forearms, his wrists, until each fingertip of his right hand.

That right hand broke free from the control of his brain and suddenly clenched the dagger hard.

But under the comfort of the invisible cold energy, he seemed to have lost all fear and pain, expressionless, letting the blood drip down along the blade and between his fingers.

In an instant or an eternity, the cold energy was completely transferred to the dagger. The dagger lit up with patterns again, and the white light gradually filled and spread…

In the next instant, bursts of stinging pain, the smell of iron, and the dripping right hand flooded into his mind at the same time.

He immediately threw away the red-hot dagger like a hot potato, and carefully and cautiously held up his poor right hand, even wanting to stick out his tongue and lick it.

Damn it, that really hurts!

Is magic this weird?! I can actually be so cruel to myself! Mechanical mind?

He wanted to cry but had no tears, how could he explain this, say I suddenly went crazy and harmed myself.

Hiss~

The wound on his hand was unbearably itchy.

He noticed in surprise that the white light on his body was fading quickly.

This process was difficult to quantify. Fortunately, the sense of existence of "it" did not weaken further, and the final brightness of the white light was about the same as what he saw in the early morning yesterday, so it didn't completely disappear.

My hand?!

Joffrey stroked his right hand. It didn't hurt anymore, all the scars had completely disappeared, only slightly dried bloodstains proved that everything that had just happened was not an illusion.

It healed me?

Joffrey could only think of this explanation. It created Valyrian steel at the cost of part of its own origin, and also used white light to repair his injuries.

Magical.

In just a few minutes, his spirit rose and fell with the changes in the situation, and finally came to a satisfactory end.

After calming down, he began to summarize the gains of this time.

The toughness and sharpness of Valyrian steel, and the rapid repair of wounds, seem to have no connection, but they still have something in common.

Previously, he had already discovered that the material properties of Valyrian steel itself had not yet reached the point of being indestructible. However, the cracks in Valyrian steel would gradually recover with the consumption of white light.

That is to say.

Every time Valyrian steel attacks, it also causes minor damage to itself.

It's just that this kind of magic can quickly repair the small damage to Valyrian steel, keeping it in its best condition at all times. In addition, its collection and symbolic significance are even greater, and it is rarely used normally. This is what has jointly created its current reputation.

The treatment of wounds is probably a similar effect.

He pondered.

Perhaps it could be called—Recovery Magic.

Hanna's voice came from outside the carriage, "Your Highness, there's steak, lamb chops, fried fish, smoked chicken, roast duck, bread, honey, cake, fruit, red wine, and ale. Do you need anything?"

Joffrey began to tidy up the messy scene. "Just bring some food over."

After filling his stomach.

Joffrey relaxed on the bed in the carriage, carefully admiring the eight-inch-long Valyrian steel dagger in his palm.

Unlike the previous ones.

This dagger was the crystallization of his wisdom, made by his own hands and stained with his blood.

Looking at this dagger, Joffrey seemed to see thousands of equally powerful swords, axes, and spears.

One day.

Those scenes in his dreams will become reality. Not just the Seven Kingdoms, the world will submit!

Hanna changed into light gauze and walked onto the bed.

She leaned against the prince and curiously reached out to touch the blade, "Your Highness, this dagger is so beautiful, does it have a name?"

"It didn't before, now I call it 'Light of Peace', what do you think?"

He had been curious and checked before, Joffrey is a French variant of Geoffrey, meaning divine peace.

Hanna nestled her head into his arms, her voice soft and light, "It sounds nice~"

What's with you suddenly, woman? What do men want? Power, conquest, women.

"Heh heh, then let me show you the power of the 'Light of Peace'!"

"Ah, Your Highness~"

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