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"The Dawn Brings the Morning, the Stars Do Not Fall!"
In that instant, the milk-glass blade of Dawn, held high in Arthur's hand, suddenly erupted with a crimson radiance.
Whether it was the sunlight from the tower windows refracting through the pale blade or the light emanating from the sword itself, no one could be sure.
The light wasn't blinding. It was soft, gentle, and warm, like the first rays of the morning sun breaking the horizon.
Almost simultaneously, everyone in the room felt a current of warmth rise from the bottom of their hearts.
This glow lasted for a full minute. When the light on the blade finally faded, the crowd began to recover from their shock and swirling emotions.
Ser Balon and Ser Bard, the old veterans of Starfall who had witnessed the sword-drawing ceremony of the previous Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, stared in awe and disbelief at the now-dim Dawn.
During that previous ceremony, let alone glowing with mystical light, the sword hadn't even hummed. Such phenomena were unheard of.
"Sword of the Morning, Arthur..." The old master-at-arms stared at the figure holding the sword, tears streaming down his weathered face. "The gods be praised. They have granted House Dayne a second Sword of the Morning named Arthur."
Allyria, overwhelmed with emotion, picked up a stunned Edric Dayne and planted a firm kiss on his round cheek.
Maester Oswell felt as if a heavy stone had been lifted from his chest. His frail body swayed with relief, and he would have fallen if Karen hadn't been quick enough to support him.
On the other side of the room, Sarella tore her gaze away from the greatsword Dawn and looked at her father, Oberyn.
She saw an expression on his face she had never seen before—pure, unadulterated shock.
She knew her father well. Oberyn had studied at the Citadel, forging six links of a maester's chain. He had traveled the Free Cities and seen more of the world than almost any man alive. He had dabbled in the arcane and knew of magic.
Sarella had thought that nothing short of a living dragon could shock her father like this.
"Father, is that magic?" she whispered.
Oberyn stared at Dawn, replying subconsciously, "I... I don't know. I've never seen anything like it."
Then he snapped out of his daze, turning to Sarella with a serious expression. "Sarella, promise me. At the Citadel, do not touch knowledge related to magic. Especially dragons."
He knew his daughter. Her curiosity was boundless, and her hunger for knowledge was dangerous.
Sarella lowered her head, looking a bit guilty. "I... I promise you, Father."
Seeing her reaction, Oberyn sighed. "If you must touch it, just don't let the Grey Sheep catch you."
"Magic is wondrous, but its price is always steep and its conditions harsh."
While they whispered, the septa presiding over the ceremony announced loudly, her voice trembling with excitement:
"Under the gaze of the gods and the witness of men, Ser Arthur Snow has drawn Dawn and become the new Sword of the Morning of House Dayne!"
"Long live the Sword of the Morning!"
"Long live Starfall!"
"Long live the Seven!"
Amidst the cheers, Arthur examined the white greatsword in his hand.
Dawn was a massive weapon, six feet long from pommel to point. Yet, its weight was far lighter than Arthur had expected.
He could wield it with one hand not just effortlessly, but as if it were an extension of his own arm.
The light Dawn had emitted earlier had been triggered by his own mana. Sustaining that glow for a minute had consumed energy equivalent to half a Strategy Card.
Arthur wasn't sure if the light served any practical combat purpose other than illumination, but even if it didn't, it was unparalleled for intimidation and showing off.
The cheering lasted for several minutes until the old master-at-arms called for silence.
Standing beside him, Allyria removed a ring from her finger and announced loudly:
"In the name of the Acting Lady of Starfall, I appoint my nephew, the Sword of the Morning of House Dayne, Ser Arthur Snow, as the Castellan of Starfall, effective immediately, until Lord Edric comes of age!"
Allyria took Edric's hand and led him up the steps. She had Edric personally place the ring—the symbol of the Castellan's authority—onto Arthur's finger.
The ring was similar to the signet ring his mother, Ashara, had left him. Its face was an amethyst carved with the image of a white sword and a falling star.
Arthur rubbed his thumb over the carving and realized the material felt similar to Dawn itself.
With Dawn in one hand and the ring on the other, Arthur raised his fist and declared solemnly, "I will not fail the mission of the Sword of the Morning or the trust of Starfall!"
Arthur had long suspected he would eventually take on the role of Castellan, as he had already been handling most of the domain's difficult decisions.
But he hadn't expected the day to come so soon.
To the chants of "Long Live Starfall," the sword-drawing ceremony concluded perfectly.
---
Arthur's four squires were arguably happier than anyone about his ascension, especially Jimmy Sunderland, who was obsessed with knightly tales.
The moment Arthur returned to his chambers in the main keep, Jimmy eagerly offered to fulfill his squirely duty and clean Dawn.
"This sword... truly is legendary... it's so heavy..." Jimmy strained with all his might, barely managing to lift Dawn with both hands.
"Heavy?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're exaggerating."
"My lord, can't you feel its weight?" Jimmy rested the sword on a rack and took an oil cloth from Vic Five, beginning to wipe the blade. "This greatsword is the heaviest weapon I've ever held. It's heavier than my Bucket Brother's warhammer."
That was strange. To Arthur, Dawn felt about the same weight as Zhanlu, which was only a hand-and-a-half sword.
Arthur turned to Zach, who was stuffing purple olives into his mouth. "Zach, go try the weight of Dawn."
Zach swallowed the olives, wiped his hands on his tunic, and lifted the sword. He scratched his head. "My lord, this big sword is definitely heavier than my hammer."
Arthur picked up Zhanlu in one hand and Dawn in the other, weighing them. "They feel almost the same to me."
Jimmy thought Arthur was teasing him. "My lord, stop joking."
At that moment, Ser Bard entered the room, smiling. "The weight of Dawn in the hands of the Sword of the Morning is different from its weight in the hands of others."
Jimmy looked incredulous. "Is that really a thing?"
Arthur realized instantly—adaptive weight?
He had worried that if Dawn was too light, it would lack chopping power and kinetic impact. It seemed his worry was unnecessary.
"My brother and I both handled Dawn when the previous Sword of the Morning held it. We discovered this rule back then."
Ser Bard presented a white scabbard with both hands. It was simple, white and purple, without excessive decoration.
"Arthur, this is the scabbard your uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, used for Dawn."
Arthur accepted the scabbard and nodded. "I will treasure it."