A farewell on the Mander
While the morning dew of Highgarden still clung to the petals of the golden rose, Daemon's army had already assembled outside the main castle.
Beneath the white marble walls, Ser Martyn Tyrell, dressed in the House Tyrell's green robes, and Lady Florence, her emerald green skirt sweeping across the dewy grass, stood side by side at the forefront, followed by the Duchess—who today wore a plain linen dress, less flamboyant than usual, but more dignified, holding in her arms Arbor wine handed to her by her son Garlan Tyrell, saying it was a farewell gift for Daemon;
Garlan wore silver-green armor, the gold rose emblem on his breastplate gleaming in the morning light. He was accompanied by several Reach lords: Earl Thaddeus Rowan's green armor was adorned with dried flowers, Earl Oakheart's silver armor was decorated with heraldry, and Earl Florent's red and gold armor was still dazzling. Only Mathos Tyrell was missing.
"Mathos —he said this morning he wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be coming to see me off." Martyn sighed, his voice tinged with apology, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the silver oak leaf on his cufflink. He was clearly deeply powerless over his nephew's absurd behavior. Everyone in the Reach knew that Duke Mathos was afraid that the lords who were already dissatisfied with Tyrell's rule in the Reach would rebel because of this bastard's rebellion, and even more afraid that the dragon would "settle scores later." He was hiding in the main castle, too afraid to come out, but little did he know that Daemon didn't care about him at all.
Daemon smiled nonchalantly, his Blackfyre leaning casually against the saddle, his long silver-gold hair brushing against his cheeks in the morning breeze. "It's alright, Your Grace is busy, we'll just keep going." His gaze swept over the young knights around him, his eyes full of gentle warmth—since last night, more than twenty second sons of nobles from the Reach and young knights had volunteered to join the group, including the youngest son of the Rowan family, the nephew of the House Florent, and the youngest son of the House Oakheart. Each of them wore brand-new armor, held polished weapons, and their eyes were full of anticipation for the future.
"Your Highness! I will definitely come to King's King's Landing see you at the end of the year after I finish dealing with things at home!" A young man in brown armor suddenly shouted. He was a member of a branch of House Peake Tommen House Peake. He had been instructed in spear techniques by Daemon at the tournament yesterday and was now holding an oak spear with great excitement on his face.
"Me too!" another girl in silver armor called out. She was Lia, the youngest daughter of the House Osgrey. She had secretly disguised herself as a boy to participate in the tournament, but after being discovered by Gael and Daemon, she was not only not punished, but also received a fine short sword and was invited to be Gael's personal bodyguard. The girl was currently gripping the hilt of the short sword, her eyes shining.
Daemon smiled and nodded, gesturing for everyone to quiet down. "I'll be waiting for you all in King's Landing. We can have another match King's Landing and see who improves their marksmanship the fastest."
As soon as the cheers subsided, Earl Redwyne rode up on a white horse.
He wore blue and white armor, with the grape emblem of Arbor on his breastplate. Holding a scroll of parchment, his face was full of sincerity. "Your Highness, thanks to you for exposing the conspiracy of those bastards, you not only saved our safety but also protected the entire Reach. On behalf of House Redwyne, I would like to invite your entourage to sail along the Mander River with our fleet and visit Arbor, so that I may extend my hospitality."
Just as Daemon was about to speak, Gael handed him a letter sealed with wax from his horse. The envelope bore the three-headed dragon emblem of the Targaryen and had just been delivered that morning.
"A letter King's Landing's Landing this morning," Gael's voice tinged with amusement, her pale purple eyes sweeping over the letter. "Father and Mother want us to stop by Oldtown Citadel to pick up Brother Vaegon and Ser Leonno Strong, who is replacing Lord Taimond as Master of Ships, and bring King's Landing back to King's Landing's Landing for the year-end tournament."
Vaegon Targaryen is Gael's older brother and Daemon's nominal "uncle" in this life. He is the seventh son of Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne Targaryen, and is known as "the Dragonless".
He was obsessed with academics from a young age, had a sharp tongue, and later became a doctor in Citadel, dedicating himself to the study of alchemy, astronomy, mathematics, and other profound academic disciplines.
Daemon took the letter, his fingertips brushing against the sealing wax seal, and suddenly remembered something Ser Martyn Tyrell had mentioned before. "By the way, why didn't Earl Hobert Hightower come to the Tournament of Highgarden?"
"I don't know. It seems the main branch of the House Hightower has been busy with the renovation of the Oldtown's sanctuary lately, and they only sent a few members from the collateral branches to participate in this tournament," Earl Thaddeus Rowan interjected, the ivy on his green armor swaying slightly. "However, Oldtown isn't far from Arbor, so it's convenient for you to travel there on Redwyne's fleet."
Daemon looked at Earl Redwyne, his eyes full of amusement. "In that case, I shall accept."
As the procession marched towards the Mander River, the morning light had already bathed the earth. The Mander River, like a silver ribbon, meandered westward from the foot of the hills of Highgarden. The river was so wide that the opposite bank could not be seen. The current was gentle, and the water was so clear that one could see the pebbles on the riverbed, a stark contrast to the muddy and turbid waters upstream.
A dozen or so large ships belonging to the House Redwyne were moored along the riverbank. Their sails were striped in blue and white, and the prows were decorated with a grape motif from Arbor —a bunch of deep purple grapes on a blue background, symbolizing the renowned wines of Arbor.
Meanwhile, the sailors on board were busy carrying luggage, their shouts mingling with the sound of the water, creating a lively atmosphere like a festival. Clearly, Redwyne's fleet had other purposes besides sending the Earl's family to the tournament to showcase the House Redwyne's strength, including purchasing and trading.
"This is the Mander River, you could say it's the mother river of our Reach." Earl Redwyne accompanied Daemon to the foremost ship, the Arbor, his fingers tracing the carvings on the hull, his voice filled with emotion. "It's the longest and widest river in Westeros, originating in the hills near Tumbleton, flowing westward, past the Bitterbridge and the Longtable, only becoming calm near Highgarden. You see, upstream the current is swift, with many shoals, only small, dilapidated boats can pass; but here, even ocean-going ships can sail, all thanks to the House Gardener' family dredging the waterway back then."
Daemon gripped the gunwale, gazing at the river. Sunlight shone on the water, shimmering like scattered gold. Occasionally, a school of fish leaped out of the water, splashing water that landed coolly on the deck.
Gael stood beside him, the pale blue rose cloak, a gift from a young girl from a branch of the House Tyrell, fluttering in the river breeze.
Mysaria followed beside her, clutching the wine the Duchess had given her, and while adjusting the princess's cloak, she whispered, "Sir Martyn said that Garth I Gardener built his Highgarden on the hill by the Mander River; no wonder the water here is so clear."
"More than that," Earl Redwyne added with a laugh, "The Ironborn used to plunder along the Mander River, all the way to the Stonebridge; Garth Gardener VII built fortifications on the Shield Islands and made commoners guard them, calling it the Shield of the Shield Islands; later, Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms, he granted Highgarden to the House Tyrell and appointed them 'Governors of the Mander River '."
This river has witnessed almost all the rise and fall of our Reach.
Larys Strong, perched lazily on the back of his "Mr. Longlegs," stretched his head towards the shore, his dark brown curly hair cascading above the water. He held a single golden rose petal in his hand, gently placing it on the river's surface, watching it drift away with the current. He glanced at Jarman Waters beside him. "This river is much calmer than the Narrow Sea. If we kept going like this, it would be very comfortable." However, being able to see his father, who was still in the Citadel, he was actually quite happy to enjoy the leisurely pace.
Rupert Crabb leaned closer, brandishing the silver spoon at his waist. "When we get to Arbor, I want to try the wine there. I've heard it's even sweeter than the wine from Casterly Rock!"
Colin Celtigar was chatting animatedly with the House Redwyne's first mate, the Blue Crab emblem on his silver armor echoing the grape emblem on the latter's. "Can your ship withstand the Storm of the Narrow Sea?" Having spent so much time with Rayford and Myles, he, like Rupert, had long since shed his outward aloofness and become quite familiar with them. "Next time I'll take you to Crab Island; the crabs there are bigger than washbasins!"
On the other side of the deck, several newly recruited young knights surrounded Myles Rivers, listening to him recount Daemon's burning of the Ironborn longships in Lannisport: "His Glutton, and with a single breath of Dragonfire, those longships were instantly ablaze! The Ironborn were screaming and crying, it was so satisfying!" Myles spoke with great enthusiasm, while Rayford Rosby opportunely added to the story, and Tommen House Peake, standing nearby, listened with gleaming eyes, his hand gripping his lance trembling. "If only I had been there! I could have joined His Highness in killing the Ironborn!"
Watching this scene, Earl Redwyne suddenly turned to Daemon and smiled, "Your Highness, the charm of your dragon is truly admirable. My daughters were completely mesmerized yesterday when they saw you wearing the laurel wreath on the dragon's back."
Even my lads, now when they see you, they act like they've seen an idol, constantly pestering me to ask when they can learn spear techniques from Your Highness again."
Daemon followed his gaze and saw that Margaery, the youngest daughter of the Earl Redwyne, was hiding behind the sails, peeking over. When she saw Daemon looking at her, she immediately blushed and shrank back. Oliver, the Earl's third son, sidled up to the Earl's second son, Alyn, and whispered about the details of his brother's fight with the prince at the tournament, his eyes full of admiration.
"They're all young people, it's good to have some excitement." Daemon nodded with a smile, the three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder suddenly warming slightly— the Glutton was circling above the fleet, its dark wings reflecting the morning light, Dreamfyre following behind, its pale blue dragon breath condensing into white steam on the river surface, attracting the sailors to stop and watch, exclaiming incessantly, "It really is a royal dragon! Then this time we're a fleet protected by a true dragon!"
Gael held Daemon's hand, her fingertips tracing the calluses on his palm. "When we get to Oldtown, shall we go to the Citadel to see Brother Vaegon? He'll probably be unusually happy to see you, after all, I heard he used to have a good relationship with Aemon."
"Okay." Daemon gripped her hand tighter, his gaze fixed on the distant Mander River.
At the end of the river, the Sunset Sea, where water and sky merge into one. Redwyne's fleet is slowly setting sail, its sails unfurling in the wind like a flock of blue and white seabirds spreading their wings.
He knew that this trip to the Mander River would not only allow him to meet Vaegon Targaryen and Leonno Strong, but also strengthen the bonds of the Reach —the young knights who followed him, the House Redwyne who were willing to provide a fleet, and the river that had witnessed the rise and fall of the Reach, all of which might become his strength in protecting Westeros in the future.
Martyn Tyrell and the lords still stood on the riverbank, waving goodbye, while Lady Florence's emerald green skirt grew smaller and smaller until it became a tiny dot;
Mathos Tyrell may still be worrying in the main castle of Highgarden, unaware that the true dragons he fears have already set their sights on far more distant places— the Citadel of Oldtown, the vineyards of Arbor, the tournament at the end of the year in King's Landing's Landing, and the looming threat of the White Walkers.
The sails billowed even more, the current of the Mander River propelled the fleet westward, and the sunlight shone on the deck, warm as the wine of Highgarden.
Daemon looked at Gael and Mysaria beside him, at the lively followers, and at the two giant dragons circling overhead. He suddenly felt that this journey across a hundred years, though full of thorns, was also full of hope. He became even more convinced that as long as the dragons were still there and the people around him were still there, he could protect this land and the peace and warmth on the Mander River.