The voyage to Whispering Port

As the morning light of dawn washed over the Hightower lighthouse of the Oldtown, golden-red ripples spread across the surface of the Honeywine. Daemon stood at the bow of the "Arbor," his long silver-gold hair fluttering in the sea breeze, the three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder still warm from the fireplace fire of the previous night.

The docks were already crowded with people seeing him off. Hobert Hightower Earl wore a smoky brocade robe, the white tower emblem on his chest gleaming in the morning light. Bethany and Mund had changed into their travel attire. Bethany wore a blue dress that allowed for easy movement, with a small silver sword at her waist; Mund was still in silver armor, but with a House Hightower emblem plate added to her shoulder armor, and clutched a navigation chart she had just bought from the Citadel.

"Your Highness, on your journey to King's King's Landing, if you pass through the Dornish Sea, be sure to have Redwyne's fleet navigate the inner lanes," Hobert said solemnly, holding Daemon's hand. "I've already sent ravens to inform the lords along the coast, instructing them to keep an eye on the movements of Dorne ships." He glanced at his two children beside him, a hint of reluctance in his eyes, yet he still smiled, "Bethany knows a little about trade, and Mund loves practicing martial arts. Let them accompany Your Highness to King's Landing's Landing to participate in the tournament and gain experience; it will certainly be more useful for them than studying in Oldtown."

Bethany stepped forward and bowed to Daemon: "Your Highness, rest assured, I have compiled the trade records of Oldtown for the past five years, which may be useful for the King's Landing's Small Council." Mund moved closer to the Glutton, whose Black Dragon was dozing at the stern. He carefully touched the dragon's scales, causing the Glutton to let out a soft growl, but it did not become angry—clearly, it was no stranger to this child of House Hightower.

At the edge of the crowd, Beren Dustin, dressed in the grey robes of the Citadel and wearing the newly received badge around his neck, was being led by another maester, Vaegon's assistant—a middle-aged man with chains around his neck.

"Your Highness, I will study hard and come to King's King's Landing find you when I've finished my studies!" The boy waved his arm, his voice clear and bright. His silver-grey the North curly hair swayed in the wind, contrasting sharply with the brown hair of the Reach around him. Daemon smiled and nodded, tossing him a peach he'd brought from Arbor: "Don't just focus on your studies while you're at the Citadel, practice your swordsmanship too. Earl Dustin entrusted me to make sure you don't forget your livelihood in the the North."

As Alyn Redwyne received Daemon's signal and gave the order, the fleet's blue and white sails slowly rose, and the grape emblem fluttered in the wind.

The outline of the Oldtown gradually receded, the lighthouse of the Hightower became a distant dot of light, and the flowing waters of the Honeywine propelled the fleet westward, soon entering Whispering Sound.

The winds of Redwyne Straits carried a salty tang, causing the sails to flutter loudly. Glutton and Dreamfyre hovered above the fleet, while the shadows of Black Dragon and the pale light of blue dragons intertwined like two guardian clouds, drawing the attention of the followers on board.

The deck of the "Arbor" was already bustling with activity. Rayford Rosby was leading several young knights newly recruited from the Reach, sorting through supplies. He wore the Rosby Household's grey armor, the three red "human" stripes on his breastplate gleaming. As he checked the wooden crates, he instructed, "These are scrolls from the Citadel of King's King's Landing, sent by the Earl of Hobert. Handle them carefully, don't let them get wet."

Mace Florent, standing nearby, quickly responded, the flame patterns on his red and gold armor swaying with his movements. He had only come of age two years ago, and although his face still carried a hint of childishness, he was already almost the oldest among Daemon's followers. He carefully placed the scroll into the waterproof leather bag.

In a corner of the deck, Lucas Tyrell, a burly man, was learning to tie knots from Colin Celtigar. His rough appearance made it hard to believe he had Tyrell blood, but this time he was wearing a plain linen coat, stripped of its ornate decorations, and clumsily twisting rope between his fingers. "Celtigar Setiga, why are these knots always coming undone?"

Colin smiled and demonstrated, the Blue Crab pattern on his silver armor gleaming. "Don't rush, pull it tight when you're circling, hold it as steadily as you would a spear."

Not far away, the youngest son of the Rowan family was sketching the dragon silhouette of the Sky Glutton, while the youngest son of the House Oakheart stood nearby, pointing at the patterns on the dragon's wings and arguing, "The scales you drew are too dense! When I saw it in Highgarden last time, the scales were staggered!"

In the shade at the stern, Vaegon Targaryen sat on a wooden crate, holding a copy of "A New Treatise on Stellar Orbits." Maester Bernard squatted beside him, his five-foot height forcing him to crane his neck. "Doctor, look at the trajectory of Dragon Star this year. Doesn't it look very similar to that of the Fifty-Fourth Year of the Conquest?"

Vaegon didn't even look up, a mocking smile playing on his lips, "Three degrees off. You haven't even mastered the basics of star angle calculation, and you dare to discuss star orbits with me?"

Bernard was not discouraged. He pulled out his notebook and quickly jotted down, "I'll calculate it again; I'm sure I can find the error."

Gael walked over, holding a freshly baked wheat cake, and handed it to Bernard: "Scholar, have something to eat first, you'll get hungry after calculating for so long." Bernard was flattered and accepted it, thanking her repeatedly. Vaegon glanced at her but didn't say anything—clearly, he still had to give Gael face.

On the other side, Leonno Strong and Larys Strong leaned side by side against the ship's railing. Leonno, a burly man with a bald head that gleamed in the sunlight, looked at Alys Rivers ' figure in the distance and said in a low voice, "Why is that woman following His Highness?"

Larys, leaning on his cane and unusually without his "Mr. Longlegs," swept the hem of his black robe across the sawdust on the deck, a flicker of panic in his dark eyes. "She asked me to introduce her to His Highness, but His Highness doesn't seem to dislike her. Some of her strange remarks always seem to resonate with His Highness—" He paused, then added, "And she's also very interested in His Highness's mark. Last time on the road, I saw her secretly touch His Highness's shoulder while he was resting in the carriage."

Leonno frowned and remained silent, staring intently at Alys Rivers, who was leaning against the mast, her dark green dress swaying in the wind, her green eyes seemingly fixed on the direction of the Glutton, mysterious as an impenetrable fog.

Mysaria and Bethany sat on the canvas, flipping through the trade records Bethany had brought. A dried flower, picked from Arbor, adorned Mysaria's platinum curls. Pointing to a page, she asked, "Miss Bethany, does the House Costayne of Three Towers really possess a silver Grail emblem? I heard before that their Grail is made of silver from Oldtown."

Bethany smiled and nodded, taking a small piece of silver from her sleeve. "This is the silver from the House Costayne. It's softer than the silver from Arbor, making it suitable for tableware. Their Holy Grail Feast is very famous; whenever distinguished guests arrive, they use a silver Holy Grail to serve fruit wine."

Daemon walked on the board, his light sweeping over the crowd. Tybolt Crakehall was sparring with Myles Rivers, his boar-patterned battle axe sparking as it clashed with Myles's the North battle axe.

Lyonel Corbray and the House Royce twins are discussing swordsmanship, the hilts of their silver swords gleaming coldly in the sunlight;

Jarman Waters and Harlan Hunter leaned against the bow, One-Eye and Longbow both facing the sea, alert for any unusual activity;

Alyn Redwyne was learning from his fleet captain how to direct the sailors to adjust the sails, his orange hair standing out conspicuously in the wind.

The new followers in the Reach gradually integrated. Some followed Rayford to organize supplies, while others learned to sail from Colin. Even the most shy Oliver Redwyne dared to try wielding a wooden sword with Rayford's encouragement.

As the sun began to set, the outline of the Three Towers finally appeared on the cliffs ahead of the fleet.

This ancestral home of the House Costayne is built on the cliffs on the south bank of Whispering Sound. Its three towers pierce the sky, facing the confluence of Redwyne Straits and Whispering Sound. The stone walls gleam with a deep gray light, as if they have grown out of the cliffs.

Several small boats were already moored at the dock, and members of the House Costayne, dressed in coats with a checkered coat pattern—a black background with a silver chalice on the upper left and lower right, and a yellow background with a black rose on the lower left and upper right—were raising flags to welcome them.

"Your Highness, we've arrived at Three Towers!" Alyn Redwyne ran over, binoculars in hand. "Earl Costayne is personally waiting at the dock, saying that supplies and accommodations are ready."

Daemon nodded, looking at the Glutton and Dreamfyre. The Black Dragon had landed on the flat ground of the cliff, while the blue dragon followed and swooped down, eliciting gasps from the House Costayne.

The fleet slowly approached the shore. Earl Costayne, wearing a black and yellow coat with a striking checkered coat of arms, strode forward and bowed to Daemon: "Your Highness, Princess Gael, welcome to Three Towers! We have prepared bread, ale, and fresh fish, as well as mutton for the dragons. Your followers can rest in the town of your territory, and the supplies will be loaded onto the ship tomorrow morning."

He then pointed to the castle behind him, "The three towers are the Chalice Tower, the Rose Tower, and the Watchtower. The Watchtower offers a panoramic view of Redwyne Straits. Your Highness can go there at any time to check the sea conditions."

Daemon followed Earl Costayne off the ship. The evening breeze blew in from the strait, carrying the scent of grass from the cliffs. Gael and Mysaria followed behind, while Bethany told them about the history of Three Towers: "The House Costayne is loyal to Hightower. When the Iron Islands pirates attacked the Reach, it was their Watchtower that spotted them first, saving the merchant ships of Oldtown."

Leonno and Larys walked at the back. Larys gazed at the outline of the Three Towers and whispered to Leonno, "This fortress is heavily fortified. There's only one path up the cliff. The House Costayne certainly knows how to choose a location." Leonno nodded, his gaze sweeping over the guards at the dock. "The people of Hightower, they really know how to defend themselves."

As night fell, the lights of Three Towers came on, like stars scattered on the cliffs.

Daemon stood on the dock, gazing at the blue and white sails of the Redwyne fleet. Glutton were gnawing on mutton on the flat ground not far away, while Dreamfyre curled up beside them, its pale blue dragon breath condensing into white vapor in the night.

This was just a brief rest during the voyage. The unknown of the Dorne Sea and the waiting of the Dornish Sea's King's Landing lay ahead, but at this moment, the laughter of those around him, the lights of the castle, and the wind of the strait made this journey feel more secure—just like the Silver Grail and the Black Rose of Three Towers, guarding the peace of Whispering Sound atop the cliffs.