In Water Gardens, the sun burns the pink floor tiles.
The gurgling sound of water flows in the courtyard, through narrow waterways, and merges into a pond dotted with blood orange trees.
The air was filled with the scent of flowers and moist earth, and the children's laughter came from a distance, like a string of silver bells.
Doran. Martell Prince sat in his wheelchair with a thin blanket covering his knees.
Gout wracked his joints, making him look frailer than he was.
On the low table in front of him was a roll of parchment just delivered from King's Landing.
His eldest daughter Arianne. Martell stood behind him.
His younger brother, Oberyn. Martell, was pacing in the room, like a cheetah in a cage.
"King's Landing civilians launched a rebellion."
Doran. Martell's voice was very calm, as if he was stating something insignificant.
"When this letter was sent, the mob had already thrown City Watch Commander Jonos. Slynt out of the window."
Oberyn. Martell stopped, with a cruel smile on his face.
"The stupid King's Landing people finally did the right thing."
He picked up a blood orange on the table, scratched the peel with his nails, and the rich aroma spread immediately.
Arianne. Martell spoke, her voice as sweet as honey.
"The news has spread Dorne, father."
"In the town outside Sunspear, there are gatherings of poor people everywhere."
"They sang hymns and announced a crusade against the infidels."
Oberyn. Martell threw a piece of orange meat into his mouth, and the juice splashed everywhere.
"That's not a bad thing."
He looked at his brother, his dark eyes shining with excitement.
"This is an opportunity, Doran."
"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Doran. Martell didn't look at him, his eyes still stayed on the children playing in the distance.
"Opportunity?"
"A chance to get burned?"
"The flames of religion will scorch everyone."
Oberyn. Martell sneered, "The fire is already burning, brother."
"We didn't order it, but we can add some firewood to it."
He walked up to Doran. Martell, leaned forward, and placed his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair.
"Give them food, give them weapons."
"Let this fire burn brighter, burn Red Keep, burn Stormlands, burn Crownlands, burn everything Usurper."
"Have you forgotten Elia? Have you forgotten her children?"
Mentioning the name Elia. Martell, Doran. Martell's body trembled slightly.
He finally raised his head and looked at his brother.
His eyes were calm, but beneath the calm was a bottomless Ice.
"I never forgot."
Oberyn. Martell stood up straight and spread his hands.
"Then take action! These fanatical believers are not even afraid of Maegor. Targaryen riding Balerion!"
"They can cause big trouble for the Usurpers!"
"We only need a push from behind to watch Usurper's reign turn to ashes in the fire."
Doran. Martell's voice is very deep.
"Words are like arrows, Oberyn."
"Once ejected, it will be covered with water and difficult to recover."
"We can't control them and we can't predict where they will go."
"They can point their swords at Usurper today, and they can point them at us tomorrow."
"They shouted the names of the gods, fanatically and madly."
Oberyn. Martell waved his hand impatiently.
"It's just a bunch of rabble, a bunch of beggars and farmers, what can we do?"
"They are just tools and can be thrown away after use."
"Your caution will make us miss the best opportunity for revenge!"
Arianne. Martell listened quietly, her eyes moving back and forth between her father and uncle.
She could feel her father's forbearance and her uncle's anxiety.
She prefers her uncle.
Father's waiting is too long, like Dorne's summer, there is no end.
"I will not gamble the fate of Dorne on a battle that has no chance of winning."
Doran. Martell said it word for word.
"Until our plan matures, Dorne will not shed a drop of blood."
Oberyn. Martell's face darkened.
"Plan?"
"Is your plan just to sit here and watch your body rot day by day?"
"Elia has been waiting underground for how many years!"
Doran. Martell's lips pursed into a stiff straight line.
"My decision will not change."
"You are my brother, Oberyn, but I am the prince of Dorne."
"Don't force me."
The air seemed to freeze.
Oberyn. Martell stared at Doran. Martell, his chest rising and falling violently.
Finally, he punched the stone pillar next to him, turned around and strode out.
"You will regret it, brother."
His voice came from the door, full of disappointment and anger.
Doran. Martell closed his eyes, with a tired look on his face.
He waved his hand. "You can go down too, Arianne."
Arianne. Martell saluted his father, turned around and chased after him.
She caught up with Oberyn. Martell at the cloister gate of the garden.
Under the tall arch, my uncle's back looked a little lonely.
"Uncle."
Arianne. Martell smiled and spoke in a brisk voice.
Oberyn. Martell turned around and saw that it was her, and the anger on his face softened slightly.
"Your father is a stubborn old man."
Arianne. Martell walked to him and stood side by side with him.
The sun shines through the arches, casting long shadows beneath their feet.
"Father is just being cautious."
Oberyn. Martell sneered, "Prudent?"
"That's cowardice."
"He is like the grass in this garden. He looks docile and harmless, but he just wants to hide everything underneath."
"But he forgot that poisonous snakes can't wait."
Arianne. Martell's eyes lit up.
That's exactly what she wanted to hear.
She asked in a relaxed tone, as if she was just chatting.
"Then what are you going to do?"
Oberyn. Martell turned his head and looked at her.
A cunning light flashed in his dark eyes.
The anger on his face disappeared, replaced by an exaggerated and false smile.
He came closer to Arianne. Martell, lowered his voice, and spoke in a mysterious tone.
"What to do?"
He paused for a moment, then straightened his body and straightened his collar seriously.
"I plan to go to the nearest church."
Arianne. Martell was stunned for a moment. "Go to the temple?"
"Of course."
Oberyn. Martell's expression was extremely sincere, as if what he was going to say next was the truest words in the world.
"Actually, I have always wanted to be a Seven monk."
He clasped his hands together in a serious manner, making a praying gesture.
"Pray for the souls of Usurpers, and pray for the soul of my sister."
"Maybe I can still work as an official in Poor Fellows and lead them in singing hymns."
He looked at Arianne. Martell's mouth slightly opened in surprise and let out a loud laugh.
He reached out his hand and pinched his niece's cheek gently.
"Don't write it all on your face, little princess."
After saying that, he blinked, turned around and strode away.
Only Arianne. Martell was left standing under the arch, the smile on his face slowly disappearing.
She looked at her uncle's retreating back and his strutting, powerful posture.
She knew it was a lie.
A clumsy but provocative lie.
My uncle will not become a monk.
He's going to light that fire.
In his own way.
Arianne. Martell's heartbeat began to accelerate, and a mixture of fear and excitement rose in her chestO
In the garden of Highgarden, the sun shines lazily through every rose petal.
The air is filled with sweet aroma.
Mrs. Olenna. Redwyne is sitting on a white wrought iron chair, with a pair of specially customized Spectacles on her nose.
The lenses were polished extremely thin, giving her cloudy eyes a bit of sharpness.
Her eldest grandson, twelve-year-old Willas. Tyrell, sat next to her.
His face showed the pride and clarity unique to a young man.
He was looking at his sister, six-year-old Margaery. Tyrell.
Little Margaery. Tyrell is wearing a light green skirt, like a budding rose.
Her voice was crisp, but she said words that were inconsistent with her age, "The first time Faith Militant started an uprising, it was because Aenys I asked his eldest son to marry his eldest daughter."
"High Septon called him the Monster King and excommunicated him."
"So Sons of the Warrior occupied Sept of Remembrance, and Poor Fellows rushed into Red Keep."
She raised her little face and looked at her grandmother. There was no confusion of a child in her brown eyes, only clear organization.
"Maegor the Cruel used Dragonfire to burn the memorial church, and put a reward on Sons of the Warrior's head."
"The war lasted for many years, until Jaehaerys I came to the throne and promised to protect the church forever, in exchange for the disarming of the church."
Willas. Tyrell's face was full of pride that could not be hidden.
He reached out and touched his sister's soft brown curly hair.
"Margaery, you remember it so clearly."
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne picked up the teacup at hand and took a sip.
The tea was slightly hot, and she hummed in contentment.
Olenna. Redwyne Mrs. put down the tea cup, and the cup collided with the saucer, making a crisp and soft sound.
She looked at Margaery. Tyrell, with an almost imperceptible hint of approval flashing through her cloudy eyes.
"Remember it well, kid."
Her voice was dry, like dry leaves rubbing against each other.
"History never teaches people to be smart, it only teaches us that fools always make the same mistakes in new ways."
Willas. Tyrell smiled gently and straightened the hem of her sister's skirt.
"Jaehaerys I's wisdom is not possessed by everyone."
"Of course not."
Olenna. Redwyne Mrs. snorted and tapped the ground with the end of her cane.
"Look at the current king and Hand of the King, how many poor people they have driven crazy."
She cast her gaze to the distance of the garden, where the blooming roses looked a bit dazzling in the sunlight.
"The Reach also has many such Poor Fellows, Willas."
Willas. Tyrell nodded, with a little worry on his face.
"Yes, grandma, they gathered spontaneously and were joined by people from villages and towns along the way.
"They are very religious, but also...
... It's very troublesome."
Mrs. Olenna. Redwyne let out a sneer, turning the corners of her mouth downwards.
"Pious?"
"Hunger is the most devout faith."
She paused, and her voice became clear and decisive.
"Give me my order."
"Let the lords everywhere be polite and send them out with gifts."
"Give them food, give them something to drink, and give them a few blessings from God."
"As long as they don't stop at the Reach, they can go anywhere."
Willas. Tyrell understood her grandmother's intention.
"I understand, Grandma."
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne picked up the teacup again and blew in the hot air.
"A Hand of the King who cannot control the capital does not deserve peace."
She took a sip of tea and turned her eyes to her eldest grandson.
"Do you think Riverlands, that young man named Suleiman, will raise the flag of rebellion?"
Willas. Tyrell thought for a moment and answered cautiously.
"It's hard to say, Grandma."
"King's Landing's mob chanted his name, and the church seemed to regard him as its savior."
"East Riverlands's nobles are gathering their troops, and House Lychester has taken hostages."
"All signs point to a rebellion."
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne did not speak, she just looked at him quietly, waiting for him to continue.
"But he himself... doesn't seem to have this intention."
Willas. Tyrell spoke very slowly, as if he was sorting out his thoughts.
"He is Robert. Baratheon's favorite. There is no need to launch a crazy rebellion."
"Iron Islands After the war is over, Robert. Baratheon will definitely handle it with care. House Lychester will only lose his position as governor at most."
"By actively provoking a war, he will face the wrath of the entire kingdom."
"Robert. Baratheon may be a foolish king, but he has experienced war for a long time and will never be afraid of war."
"Lannister family will not sit idly by."
"This may be a conspiracy."
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne laughed dryly.
"Maybe?"
"Not maybe, kid."
"This will be a great thing for a lot of people."
She put down the teacup, leaned forward slightly, and lowered her voice a bit.
"We not only want to explore the conspiracy, but also everything behind the conspiracy, Willas."
"Crownlands and Stormlands are now empty and unprepared."
"The main force of the king's army is at Iron Islands, Stannis's navy is on the other side of the continent, and Renly is still nursing."
"With that young man's ability, he can sweep these two places in just one month.
Willas. Tyrell's face became solemn.
He followed his grandmother's thoughts and saw a terrifying and tempting possibility.
"If this happens, Baratheon Dynasty's rule will be seriously damaged."
"They will have to...
.. leaning towards us."
"That's right."
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne's eyes shone with shrewdness.
"The king needs our food to feed King's Landing and our army to fight the rebels."
"By then, the roses of Highgarden will bloom in every corner of Red Keep."
There was a brief silence in the garden, except for the laughter of children and the sound of gurgling water in the distance.
Willas. Tyrell still has doubts.
"But I still think that Suleiman may not launch a rebellion."
"The decision between losing the governorship and losing one's life is not difficult."
Mrs. Olenna. Redwyne leaned back in her chair and said no more.
She shrugged noncommittally, with no emotion on her face.
This world is full of wonders. Some people are crazy and persistent in their desire for power. If they are destined to lose their position as governor, they will just give it a try and drag everyone with them to hell.
Since the conspirators chose him, there must be a reason.
At this moment, an attendant rushed in in a panic, breaking the tranquility.
His face was pale, his breathing was rapid, and he was holding a roll of parchment tightly in his hand.
"Madam!"
"Urgent message from King's Landing!"
Willas. Tyrell frowned, feeling dissatisfied with the attendant's gaffe.
Olenna. Redwyne Mrs. just raised her hand.
"What are you panicking about?"
"The sky hasn't fallen yet."
She took the roll of parchment from the attendant's hand, and the seal was the familiar eagle and crescent moon sealing wax of Hand of the King.
She put on Spectacles and opened the letter slowly.
The sunlight shines on the parchment, and the writing on it is clearly visible.
Olenna. Mrs. Redwyne's eyes moved slowly, her expression did not change at all, and was as calm as a deep pool of water.
Willas. Tyrell looked at her uneasily.
What was written in the letter?
Did Jon. Arryn ask the Reach to attack the church?
Or is the king prepared to compromise with the church?
Finally, Mrs. Olenna. Redwyne finished reading the letter.
She put the parchment on the table and took off Spectacles.
Then, she laughed.
The laughter was not loud, but it was clear, dry and sharp, like thorns scratching through glass.
She stretched out her thin hand and tapped the armrest of the chair again and again, making a "pop, pop" sound.
"Ha...
.. Haha...
Willas. Tyrell picked up the letter and scanned it quickly.
The content of the letter is very simple, but the wording is extremely harsh.
In the name of the king, Hand of the King Jon. Arryn declares that in view of House Lychester openly gathering troops in Riverlands and detaining vassals loyal to the king, conspiracy to restore Targaryen.
His treasonous behavior is obvious.
Here, deprive him of all his land and title, and label House Lychester a traitor.
Anyone who responds to his call will be punished with the same crime.
Willas. Tyrell raised his head and looked at his grandmother who was laughing loudly in confusion.
"Grandma?"
"Jon. How could Arryn make such a decision?"
"Is he crazy?"
Mrs. Olenna. Redwyne's laughter gradually stopped, and she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"He's not crazy, kid."
"He's just old and scared."
"King's Landing's fog frightened him."
"He thought that sending a stern letter would frighten the nobles who drew their swords."
"He thought that by taking away a title, the war would stop on its own."
She looked at her grandson with a trace of pity in her eyes, feeling that Jon. Arryn was no longer the same as before.
"He lit the fuse with his own hand."
"A good show is about to begin."