While Arthur was still adjusting to his new titles—"Sword of the Morning" and "Castellan of Starfall"—news of the new Sword of the Morning's birth spread like wildfire. Within just two days, it had traveled up and down the length of the Torrentine.
What Arthur hadn't anticipated, however, was that people were far more interested in the other aspect of his ascension.
The strange phenomenon that occurred when he drew the sword.
As the story passed from mouth to mouth, the events were exaggerated, distorted, and increasingly mythologized.
One rumor claimed that Dawn had flown out of the Palestone Sword Tower of its own accord and landed directly in Arthur's hand.
Another claimed that anyone touched by the light emitted from Dawn would be blessed with good fortune.
Those were the milder ones. In the past few days, Arthur had heard some truly absurd claims.
Some said his touch could cure diseases and injuries, or ensure that infants would grow up healthy and avoid early death.
Others linked the phenomenon directly to religion, claiming Arthur was the incarnation of the Warrior himself, which was why Dawn had accepted him.
Enterprising singers and bards combined these rumors with Arthur's victory over the Vulture King, weaving half-truths into epic ballads of heroism.
For a time, Starfall and the surrounding lands became a carnival of superstition. Every day brought a new version of the story, each more ridiculous than the last.
And as time went on, the fervor only grew, spreading beyond the Torrentine into the wider world.
Arthur didn't pay much attention to it initially. That is, until he was holding court in the Great Hall as Castellan, listening to petitions from the smallfolk.
The guards brought forward a petitioner.
It was a typical Dornish peasant couple, dressed in roughspun clothes with linen headscarves. The woman was clutching a swaddled bundle.
"Lord Arthur." The man dropped to his knees, pulling his wife down with him. He stammered, "W-we... we humble folk dare not ask my lord to... expend his divine power to shine the holy light upon us... We only beg... that my lord might touch this child. Give him a blessing... ensure he grows up healthy."
Hearing the request, Arthur froze. People actually believe this?
Deciding it was a harmless enough request—and wishing to be kind—Arthur stepped down from the dais. He gently rubbed the cheek of the infant in the swaddling clothes and murmured a few words of blessing.
The woman burst into tears of joy, unable to speak. The man bowed repeatedly, thanking him profusely.
"May the Seven bless you forever, my merciful, generous lord."
Watching the family leave, Arthur realized why so many people in power enjoyed playing god.
All he had to do was wiggle his fingers, and he could move a woman to tears and earn a man's undying gratitude. The emotional return on investment was absurdly high. It was... addictive.
That couple was just the beginning. Throughout the day, numerous petitioners asked for his "touch of blessing," mostly for their children.
Among them were merchants, and even some landed knights and minor vassals of Starfall who brought their own offspring.
By the end of the morning session, Arthur felt like a lucky charm on display.
Even the old master-at-arms, sitting beside him, leaned over after court adjourned. "Arthur, could you maybe give my grandson and grandnephews a blessing too?"
"Don't you start joining the fun," Arthur rolled his eyes. "I have real work to do."
"Hey, hey! Arthur, I'm serious!" the old master called after Arthur's retreating back.
Arthur didn't turn around. He just walked faster.
---
At lunch in the main keep's small dining room, Arthur was burying his face in his food, trying to process the morning's events.
Honestly, he had no desire to be a charlatan or exploit the people's superstition. He was just pondering how to curb this nonsense when Edric spoke up.
Edric was cutting a piece of bread next to him. "Cousin, when Septa Millie was teaching me the Seven-Pointed Star today, she said you are the incarnation of the Warrior."
"Cough! Cough! Cough..."
Arthur choked on his bread. He coughed violently, face turning red.
Septa Millie was the one who had presided over the sword-drawing ceremony. She had taken over the administration of the Starfall sept from Septon Alester.
Allyria added calmly, "Septa Millie also said she has co-signed a letter with Bishop Alester and many other septons, truthfully detailing the miracles you displayed during the ceremony. They've sent it to the High Septon in King's Landing."
Arthur finally managed to wash the bread down with a gulp of summerwine. He let out a long breath.
"They had better have written it truthfully."
"Arthur, this isn't a bad thing." Maester Oswell, who rarely came to the dining room due to his frail legs, had somehow made it there today.
"The wider and more fantastical these stories spread, the more knights will be attracted to our tourney at Starfall."
"The chivalric traditions of the Reach and the Stormlands are far stronger than in Dorne. Knights from those regions will be compelled to come and see for themselves."
"I hope so," Arthur sighed.
Sword of the Morning + Suspected Incarnation of the Warrior. Indeed, no knight worth his salt could resist the glory of defeating a man with those titles.
Resigned to his fate, Arthur sighed again. Nothing to be done about it now. Eat the bread.
---
In the afternoon, Arthur convened a meeting in the small council chamber. The first item on the agenda was the preparation for the tourney.
He was far more focused on the tourney than any other administrative matter.
Although the primary goal was to find a husband for Allyria, the event was also a prime opportunity to advertise Starfall to the rest of the realm.
People attracted by the tourney, the legend of the Sword of the Morning, and the mystical rumors would also see other things.
They would see the high-quality weapons, armor, and tools produced by the Artisan District.
They would drink the Amber Peach Wine, the peach brandy, and eat the giant peaches from the orchards.
And, of course, they would witness Arthur's supreme jousting skills and the martial virtue of the Sword of the Morning.
"For the tourney grounds," Karen the Fat Steward began, "we have tentatively selected a flat area between Starfall and the Dawn Market."
Karen then listed the various expenses: construction of the lists and stands, prize money for the champions and runners-up, wages for hired staff... The total budget came to around 40,000 golden dragons.
"Increase the budget by another 10,000," Arthur said after glancing at the breakdown. The bulk of the cost was indeed the prize money.
"Ensure that the inns, stables, and taverns surrounding the venue have sufficient stock of food, wine, and fodder."
"If there aren't enough rooms, build temporary ones quickly. If supplies are short, procure them immediately. This is key to recouping our costs."
Arthur didn't expect to make a profit from the tourney itself, but he was more than happy to offset the costs through commerce.
"What are the events?" Arthur asked.
"Same as Sunspear," Ser Balon replied. "Joust, melee, and archery."
"Add one more," Arthur said. "Poetry recitation and musical performance. We'll invite three highborn ladies to serve as judges."
This event was specifically designed to give Allyria more screen time—a chance for her to interact with the knights and nobles in a different setting.
"That will increase the budget significantly," Karen warned.
The main cost of any event was the prize money. High prizes were essential to attracting competitors from far and wide.
Arthur nodded. "Add it. This money is necessary."
He hadn't forgotten that the core purpose of this tourney was to find Allyria a husband.