Count Tarly's Advice

Upon learning that his son Alan was studying the art of governance under a Valaerys family maester and had a dedicated martial instructor as well, Count Tarly felt reassured and did not make a special visit to see his son. Instead, he went straight to the Dragonpit with his daughter.

King's Landing's Dragonpit had no external entrance. One could only first travel along an extremely narrow mountain path to reach the black stone gates scorched open by Vomysor, then enter the underground Dragonpit through the castle's towers.

Count Donald Tarly gently stroked the black stone railing forged by dragonfire. He could not even tell what material it was made of, and his gaze toward the City of Nine Towers above was filled with respect.

Father and daughter passed workers building gates and carving the castle walls. Before them was a huge crowd of workers using black stone and wood to construct the city's buildings. Most had silver or pale golden hair, while quite a few male workers had dyed their hair in all manner of colors.

Count Tarly frowned, but his brow soon relaxed. Near the sites where a sept and godswood were being built, he spotted familiar blond, red, and black hair.

"Sevenfold blessings, sevenfold glory. The Seven bless my lord, the Seven praise my lord, the Seven descend upon my lord. The Father grants the prince a longsword, that he may judge and pass sentence. The Crone bestows wisdom, and grants this place life. The Mother smiles and bows her head, and thus the fields become fertile. The Warrior sounds his horn, and thus the prince remains undefeated in battle. The Smith ignites heavenly fire, and thus the holy city rises from the earth. The Maiden blesses this place, and the faithful shall multiply. The Stranger is everywhere, yet He blesses this place as well, and the faithful shall never cease to thrive."

Count Tarly's brow furrowed again. He saw Borderlands folk working in the castle devoutly trace seven-pointed stars over their chests. The naturalized foreigners also closed their eyes in salute before returning to work. Only the barefoot septon continued preaching tirelessly.

"Something's wrong. Diana, there's something wrong with that septon." Count Tarly immediately grasped the heart of the matter. "He's directing faith in the Seven toward Prince Lonzell. Would the Starry Sept approve of such behavior?"

"The Starry Sept will never know. Or rather, even if they do know, they won't do anything." Diana shook her head slyly. "Septon Collen has received appointments from both the king and the High Septon. He is now the bishop of the Summer Prince's Domain, and with His Highness's financial backing, he has also secured a nominal position as a sept bishop. After all, the High Septon's crystal crown requires more gold and gemstones to emphasize the majesty of the Seven."

Count Tarly slowly entered the city gates, then sighed at his daughter. "I truly am getting old. Perhaps young people these days really can change quite a few things." He strode into a tower that had yet to receive its interior decorations, accepted bread and salt from a worker, and wolfed them down.

Led by the Dragonpit Silver Guard, Count Tarly and Diana reached the depths of the Dragonpit and found the Lonzell brothers resting beneath the dragons after having just cleaned their scales.

When Count Tarly cautiously approached, Vomysor first gave him a sidelong glance, then closed his eyes in disdain. Silverwing looked at Count Tarly with curiosity for a few moments, but eventually snorted through her nostrils and went back to sleep.

"Lord Donald, you came without informing us. Look at this, what poor hospitality. Diana, have you offered Lord Donald bread and salt?" Seeing Count Tarly still carrying the object covered in black cloth on his back, how could Lonzell not know what it was?

The Tarly family sword, the Valyrian steel blade Heartsbane.

"Thank you for your hospitality. Of course, if the meal I had at the tavern in town earlier counts as well, then I am all the more grateful."

"That was your transaction, my lord," Lonzell said with a smile. "But if you consider it hospitality, I would be embarrassed to refuse. Still, you came to see me in such a hurry. You must have something to say."

The prince truly possessed a maturity and wisdom beyond his apparent age. And manners, too, Count Tarly thought.

He was a straightforward man, or rather, the entire family of striding hunters favored concise and efficient conversation. Thus, Count Tarly went straight to the point. "Your Highness, I suggest you use House Vail's deployment of troops to harass Blackhaven as a pretext to march on Dorne. For the Borderlands lords, this is vengeance they have long craved. So long as you mount a dragon and raise your banners, every horse and sword in the Borderlands will be at your command."

Lonzell looked into Count Tarly's eyes and slowly rose to his feet. "Lord Donald, I understand your feelings, and I understand the Borderlands' fury at the harm done by the Dornish. But conquest, extermination, and governance are three different things." Lonzell walked before Count Tarly, used the tongs for picking stones from Vomysor's scales as a pen, and drew routes across the jagged black-stone floor. "I can ride my dragon to burn their ports, oases, and forests. I can lead an army to salt their lands, sever their water sources, poison the Greenblood, and let the Dornish taste the true wrath of dragons. But then what? The surviving Dornish would pass down their hatred from generation to generation. Even if every Dornishman died, all we would gain would be a barren desert wasteland. Lord Donald, having learned from the failures of the previous Dornish wars, surely you know what the key to solving the Dorne problem is."

"You are right. The land, the oases, the water sources—the foundations upon which the Dornish survive. Destroy those, and even if the Dornish are skilled at hiding and guerrilla warfare, they will perish from hunger and thirst." Count Tarly naturally understood these matters. In truth, during the First Dornish War, the enraged Conqueror Aegon and Queen Visenya had considered such measures. Yet their ultimate goal had been to conquer Dorne, not exterminate it. That was why they had not gone so far as to burn the oases and cut off the water sources.

Although Count Donald Tarly was filled with anger toward the Dornish, reason told him that if all they gained in the end was wasteland, then centuries of suffering and warfare would become a joke.

"So your plan is..." Count Tarly suddenly thought of a possibility. Dorne's political situation was not as stable as it appeared. The Yronwood family of Yronwood, the Fowler family of Skyreach, the Manwoody family of Kingsgrave, and the Dayne family of Starfall and High Hermitage—these families, which had once worn crowns themselves, were not as obedient as they seemed. Especially the Yronwood family, which had once worn the crown of the "High King of Dorne." More than once in history, they had defied Sunspear's orders, and the Martell family had no good way to handle the strongest family beneath them. If not for the Yronwood family's terrible relations with all the surrounding houses, the situation might have been even worse.

"Dorne has more than just Prince Qoren." Lonzell pointed his tongs toward the imagined Sunspear, then toward the Red Mountains. "Prince Qoren is cautious, but Dorne has no shortage of reckless fools."

"Like the Vulture Kings throughout history!" Count Tarly immediately thought of much more. Vulture King was the title borne by Dornish leaders who stirred up trouble in the Red Mountains. The title had been passed down for generations and had triggered several Dornish wars. Although the Martell family would automatically distance themselves whenever a Vulture King rose in rebellion, aside from the foolish Prince Marion who had sparked the Fourth Dornish War, every time the Dornish caused trouble, they did so beneath the Vulture King's banner. Thus, almost everyone believed that this troublesome nuisance was a man of the Prince of Dorne, deliberately sent to disgust the Borderlands lords and the Targaryen family.

Count Tarly could imagine the choices Count Uller Vail would make after losing his troops and ports. That slut who slept with both men and women would surely shamelessly go to Prince Qoren to throw a tantrum, only to return empty-handed. Looking across the eastern Borderlands and even eastern Dorne, the only ones who could offer him aid were the remnants of the Vulture King hidden deep within the Red Mountains, the bold Toland family of Hellholt, whose conflict with House Vail was not particularly severe, and the inscrutable Uller family.

"The war must be fought, but food must be eaten one bite at a time. What we want is the Dornish people's land and hearts, not a group of madmen ready to rebel at any moment and a scorched wasteland." Lonzell forcefully drove the tongs into the imagined location of Wyl.

Naturally, they did not pierce the ground. The tongs bent instead.

Feigning nonchalance, Lonzell tossed the tongs aside and continued, "To kill a venomous snake, it is best to wait until it carelessly exposes its vulnerable spot. Better still, make it attacked from both front and rear, unable to aid either its head or tail."

"I understand what you mean." Count Tarly extended his hand and clasped Lonzell's. "I will return to Horn Hill at once and prepare a hawking hunt. Horn Hill can provide six hundred armored cavalry and three thousand infantry, including twelve hundred longbowmen. All are skilled enough to hunt stags."

"Thank you for your wholehearted support."

"Among the lords of the western Borderlands, those I can influence can gather at least three hundred cavalry and two thousand infantry. It is a pity the Peake family has spent these years focusing on scheming against those sissies in the Reach. Otherwise, the western Borderlands could send even more troops."

"The eastern Borderlands will be worse." Lonzell could not help shaking his head. "Only the Dondarrion family and the Selmy family will commit their forces fully. House Swann and House Caron will most likely still be wavering. As for the other families, compared to Borderlands folk, they are more like inland Stormlands nobles. If Duke Boremund Baratheon does not approve, they will not send troops."

"You have dragons." Count Tarly looked reverently at the resting Vomysor. "Once the Bronze Fury takes the field, the Dornish can only flee in panic. Your Highness, I will await your message in the mountains."

"When the time comes, I will have Valar ride Silverwing there." Lonzell set the sign that the time had come. Once Count Tarly, hunting in the mountains, saw the silver dragon fly overhead, he would immediately march east.

"Your Highness, may our cooperation be fruitful." A satisfied smile appeared on Count Tarly's face. "I hope this time the Dornish bitches will remember our fire and arrows forever. May the Seven bless you."

Lonzell smiled and narrowed his eyes.

Meanwhile, High Hermitage.

This beautiful castle was another seat of the Dayne family, belonging to a cadet branch that answered to the main family at Starfall.

It possessed enormous cellars containing fine wines from across the world. Yet as a hidden cellar door opened, a group of men in black swiftly poured inside.

As though they knew someone would come, several boys and girls had long been hiding in the cellars. They helped these men, whose black garments concealed heavy armor, seize control of every tower in the castle. The leader of the black-clad men strolled leisurely up the stairs of the main tower and kicked open the lord's chamber door.

The aged Ser Oberyn Dayne seemed to know who had attacked his castle. He leaned quietly against his bed and watched the black-clad intruder remove her hood, revealing a strikingly fierce and beautiful face beneath it.

"Obara, you are indeed more suited for Dawn, but I am not dead yet." Oberyn could not help speaking when he saw Obara's face. "Couldn't you wait a few more years?"

"Great-uncle, you can no longer wield Dawn." Obara raised her long leg and planted her foot on her great-uncle's table, looking down at the old Sword of the Morning with his clouded eyes. "I can hear Dawn weeping in dissatisfaction." She pointed at her ear. "Dawn thirsts for battle. Now, I have found a reason to wield it."

"What do you intend to do? Where is my son?"

"Great-uncle, do not overthink it. Kinslaying is a grave crime despised by the gods. But Uncle is far too cautious. He cannot bear our dream, so I have let little Quinlan govern in Uncle's stead."

The door creaked open, and an armor-clad boy looked excitedly at his cousin. "Obara, when do we act?"

"Quinlan? Have you gone mad? Quinlan is only thirteen!" Oberyn struggled to rise, only to discover that his frail body could no longer support even that effort. "What exactly are you trying to do?"

Obara smiled mysteriously. "Great-uncle, just watch. Once Starfall raises our banner as well, we will restore the King of the Torrentine to the Seven Kingdoms." Seeing the fanatical look in her cousin's eyes, she raised her voice even higher. "Why should the Martell family keep that crown forever? The Dayne family has produced kings as well. Why should we obediently surrender our crown after a few defeats? Did not the great warrior queen Nymeria leave her seed in Dayne blood? Why should we remain beneath that cursed sun for centuries?"

The boy's gaze grew hotter and hotter. Even the way he looked at his own grandfather had become somewhat vicious.

Oberyn let out a long sigh. In his current state, unable even to leave his bed, he could do nothing but watch Obara make a mess of things.

"You... What if the Martell family summons its vassals to suppress the rebellion?"

"You may rest assured, old man." Obara abruptly bent down and pressed her face close to her great-uncle's wrinkled one. "Prince Qoren has no time to concern himself with us."

"Then Starfall..."

"Heh." Obara raised a brow. "My brother has surely already taken control of my father, that fat pig. Rest assured, my brother may be a fool, but if he can place the crown of the King of the Torrentine upon his head, he will be more enthusiastic than anyone."

"When did you... Why did the maester..."

"Ravens are not the only means of communication, Great-uncle." Obara moved away, no longer looking at Oberyn's emaciated body. "This proves that letting family members learn more letters was the right choice."

That was the final sentence Obara left for her great-uncle.

"Obara, where did you find these warriors?" High Hermitage's bastard daughter, Amira Sand, stared excitedly at the tall, sturdy Unsullied soldiers, whose bodies were completely hairless. She reached down casually, then looked at Obara with a livid face. "Well done, Obara. You actually brought so many eunuchs! You tricked us?"

Obara ignored her bastard cousin and walked straight up to the soldiers. "By His Highness's orders, I will leave thirty men behind to guard High Hermitage. The rest will depart with me for Starfall."

"Yes." The Unsullied soldiers snapped to attention in unison, startling the boys and girls who had gathered around to watch. Their gazes toward Obara grew ever more reverent.

Starfall.

The same scene was unfolding there. No fortress, however sturdy, could withstand collapse from within, especially when the one acting was Count Dayne's eldest son.

The obese Count Dayne had been locked directly inside a side room beside the kitchen. Despairingly, he watched his eldest son slowly eat roasted meat covered in chili beside him.

"Ungrateful son, why?"

"For the crown, Father." The young Dayne's eyes were equally filled with fanaticism. "The crown of the King of the Torrentine returns to our family after centuries. Father, this is supreme glory."

"Ungrateful son, ungrateful son!" Count Dayne slammed himself against the stone door, but it did not budge. "My good son, let your father out. Your father will agree to anything. No, no..."

Seeing his eldest son wipe his mouth and head out of the kitchen, the fat count shouted in despair. "At least leave some food for your father! Seven Hells, Seven Hells!"

Sorry, everyone. I really couldn't manage two updates today, so it could only be a combined chapter. The boil has softened somewhat, but it hurts even more. I spent the entire day in bed applying hot compresses and medicine.