The throne hall had already been prepared for a grand celebration.
A long crimson carpet stretched from the doors all the way to the dais, flanked by rows of elm tables.
Hundreds of candles lit the hall so brightly that shadows barely existed.
Except for a small group assigned to guard duty, nearly everyone had gathered to celebrate the reunification of Gohor.
Among them were not only Viserys' Westerosi retainers, but also Lothan, Tina, and other prominent Rhoynar representatives.
Viserys sat high upon his throne. Gorys stood beside him, holding the Prince's Spear as he surveyed the hall.
The young king held a wine cup in hand. Truthfully, there were far more important tasks awaiting him than a feast.
He needed to reach Volantis as soon as possible and bring his warships upriver. Braavos and Pentos held no sizable fleets on either the Upper Rhoyne or the Little Rhoyne.
Once his fleet arrived, Gohor would be secure. For the next few years, they could farm in peace.
But for now, he needed to soothe and welco the newly sworn Rhoynar.
At the mont, the Rhoynar and Westerosi sat on opposite sides of the hall. This was not what he desired.
His courtiers chatted—so bragging of their bravery, so discussing the future, so whispering about the Rhoynar guests.
On Lothan's side, his followers were far more reserved.
To them, the fortress of Vhagar Hall was Viserys' domain. They sat quietly, speaking softly.
So stole glances at the Prince's Spear in Gorys' hand.
"Want to touch it?"
Elder Tina had been staring at the spear, lost in thought, when an unfamiliar voice interrupted her.
Oberyn, carrying a wine cup, was also staring at the weapon. "A fine treasure, isn't it? But His Highness is far too stingy. He won't even lend it to for a mont."
Tina offered a polite smile but said nothing.
"You've just sworn allegiance. If you ask now, he might even agree—"
Clink, clink, clink.
Oberyn's words were cut short by the clear sound of crystal being tapped.
Viserys rose, tapping his cup with a silver spoon. All attention turned to the silver-haired king wearing a golden crown.
Seeing him rise, the rest of the hall stood as well.
Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone raised their cups, waiting for their king to speak.
"On this day, we celebrate a mont that will forever be rembered. From today onward, Gohor's fate will rest in her own hands. Glory to victory!"
Viserys lifted his cup high.
"Glory to victory!"
The hall echoed back and drained their cups.
"And there is more. Today is also my na day!"
"Na day?" Jona looked curiously at her grandfather.
"For Westerosi, a na day is the sa as our birthdays," Lothan explained.
Inwardly, he marveled at what felt like destiny itself. On his own na day, Viserys had completed the unification of Gohor.
He had been in Essos for barely half a year and had already achieved what Lothan, born and raised in Gohor, had failed to accomplish in a lifeti.
"Long live King Viserys!"
Ock, ever quick-witted, refilled his cup and shouted first.
Others followed in unison, offering their congratulations.
Arthur frowned slightly and glanced back at Oswell. Oswell returned a aningful smile.
For a ruler, a na day was whenever he declared it. More symbols of legitimacy were always better.
Viserys accepted their congratulations, then began announcing the rewards for those who had fought since arriving in Gohor.
"Kingsguard Ser Arthur Dayne.
Kingsguard Ser Oswell Whent."
Arthur and Oswell stepped forward and stood before the throne.
"My Kingsguard—you swore that you would hold no lands and bear no titles, yet I must still express my gratitude.
In every battle you have stood at the vanguard, safeguarding the royal family. For this I am deeply grateful.
I declare that from this day onward, your standing shall be equal to that of High Lords. All mbers of the royal household beneath shall give you the respect due to elders.
You shall each receive a new set of armor, three warhorses, and an annual salary of eight hundred gold dragons."
Viserys did not break their vows by granting land or titles, but he had publicly elevated their status.
And he intentionally avoided ntioning the oath forbidding marriage and children.
He planned to weaken that tradition in the future.
He found those vows inhumane. Perhaps one or two among them truly disdained won, but all four? He doubted it.
Arthur, Willem, Gerold, and Oswell were all handso. They would make excellent candidates for Rhoynar marriage alliances.
He would not miss the chance to gain political and dostic value in one stroke. Of course, he would not state it plainly.
Opportunities would be arranged.
Human nature would handle the rest.
The two Kingsguard knights, unaware of their king's hidden motives, reaffird their loyalty and returned to their places.
Next was Ock's turn.
"Ser Ock.
In the Battle of Shipbreaker Bay you captured more than twenty enemy ships. After arriving in Gohor, your achievents have continued.
From today, your rank is elevated to earl. You are granted one thousand acres of land, with the right to later relocate it to Westeros."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
Ock was overwheld. A prostitute's son rising to the rank of earl—he felt he could die satisfied.
A pang followed the exhilaration.
He had not seen his mother since joining the army at thirteen. Now that he had sothing to show, she wasn't here to see it.
Thankfully, his fellow officers nearly drowned him in raised cups, and the lancholy dissolved quickly.
Viserys continued rewarding several notable commanders with titles and land, raising the mood of the hall once more.
Then he turned toward Lothan.
"Elder Lothan."
Lothan had expected this mont. Since he had already sworn allegiance, he would have to accept whatever ca next.
"From today onward, aside from the army and foreign affairs, the Rhoynar along the Upper Rhoyne shall be under your governance.
You may appoint officials as you see fit. Your status shall be equal to that of a duke."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Lothan bowed low.
From that mont forward, the Rhoynar of Gohor were fully integrated into the Targaryen realm.
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