Morning light in the intelligence room and summer schemes
The morning light that had just shone through the stone windows of the intelligence room at the Red Keep was shattered by the creaking sound of the door hinges turning.
Daemon wore a worn-out black velvet cloak, his fingertips still tinged with the lingering smell of alcohol from the previous night, yet he unusually straightened his back, his steps light but steady, unlike the usual languid self-indulgence he displayed after a hangover.
The House Royce twins, who were on guard at the entrance to the intelligence room last night, froze instantly.
Still a bit groggy from guarding the palace all night, the Arad, Arad House Royce, thought he was seeing things, and the keychain in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter." The younger brother Jorvik House Royce, startled by the noise, immediately placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The two looked at each other, both seeing the shock in each other's eyes. "Why is Your Highness up so early today?"
"What's the panic?" Daemon glanced at them, his Blackfyre slung across his waist, the dragon pattern on the scabbard still glistening with morning dew. "Don't worry, Your Highness, I didn't cause any trouble with you last night, and I'm not here to hide from Your Gael Big Daemon. There's no need to be so tense."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sound of papers falling to the ground echoed from the intelligence room.
Rayford Rosby, who had arrived early at the intelligence room to organize documents, was squatting on the floor picking up a stack of parchment when he saw Daemon walk in. He dropped another scroll. "Your Highness? What brings you here this morning? Usually at this time, you'd be practicing your swordsmanship—"
Before he could finish speaking, he saw Daemon walk directly to the table, his fingertips brushing over the open Narrow Sea map. He immediately shut his mouth, quickly handing over the organized intelligence scroll. "This is a secret report that just arrived this morning from Blackwater Bay, along with records of the movements of those envoys from the Iron Islands."
Daemon had just opened the first volume when he heard Gael's voice in the hallway, tinged with urgency. "Rayford? Have you seen Little Daemon? I heard Budimir come back last night and tell Brienne that he was forced to drink a lot last night. I went to look for him this morning, but he wasn't in his bedroom, nor did he go to the training grounds, and he hasn't gone to the Dragonpit yet—"
The door was pushed open again, and when Gael of her light purple skirt, Mysaria and Johanna followed behind as her personal maids, while Brienne and Lia, her two personal guards, stood at the door with their swords in hand.
She saw Daemon sitting at the table, holding an intelligence scroll, and her eyes widened instantly, her light purple eyes filled with surprise. "Little Daemon? What are you doing here today? I thought you were going to sleep until noon like Big Daemon after drinking. We went to your bedroom early this morning and didn't see you, so we thought you hadn't come back—"
Before he could finish speaking, Budimir Tarth, Daemon's personal bodyguard who should have been waiting outside Daemon's bedroom door early in the morning, walked over scratching his head, holding a black cloak in his hands. "Your Highness, I just went to Your Highness's bedroom to get the cloak, I didn't expect you to be here too."
Only then did Gael notice the cloak in Budimir's hand, and couldn't help but laugh, "Looks like I came to the right place; you really didn't remember to wear something warmer."
She stepped forward and naturally helped Daemon adjust his cloak, her fingertips touching his wrist and gently squeezing it. "Are you feeling alright from your hangover?"
"It's alright." Daemon's ears turned slightly red. He was about to say something more to Gael when he heard Larys Strong's voice coming from the corridor, with the slyness typical of his "Clubfoot" self. "Oh, isn't this our dear princess? What are you doing heading to the intelligence room? Did our Blackfyre princess leave some important documents in her bedroom again?"
Larys walked in, leaning on a cane, followed by Jarman Waters.
He saw the scene inside the house -
Daemon sat reviewing intelligence, Gael standing beside him, Rayford holding a scroll, Brienne and the others guarding the door. Suddenly, he dramatically raised his hand to cover his mouth and tapped his cane on the ground. "By the Old and New Gods! Why is the dawn of Westeros rising from the direction of the Sunset Sea today? When did my humble intelligence room become a gathering place for so many distinguished guests?"
Upon hearing this, Mysaria, Johanna, and Lia couldn't help but laugh, and even Brienne and Budimir's lips twitched slightly.
Daemon put down the scroll and looked helplessly at Larys, who was jokingly calling him a "hands-off boss": "You shut up, Gael's just here to see if I'm alright."
"Yes, yes, yes," Larys nodded with a smile, but bowed to Gael. "Your Highness, rest assured, our prince is unusually diligent today. It seems he is indeed getting engaged to his beloved. It seems the dragon about to be married does change! Even the smell of alcohol last night couldn't stop him from reading the intelligence reports—he's much better than the usual slacker who only touches documents after being urged three or four times."
This "cunning" guy clearly knew who he should curry favor with at this moment, and Gael was so amused by him that she burst out laughing. She reached out and patted Daemon's shoulder. "Looks like I don't need to worry about you, Little Daemon. Since you guys are busy, we won't bother you any longer. We'll have the kitchen send you some hangover soup later."
She gave Mysaria, who was responsible for staying behind to take care of Daemon, a few more instructions. "Keep an eye on Little Daemon, don't let either of you forget to eat again," before leaving with the rest of the group. Before leaving, she deliberately pretended to be serious and glared at Larys, as if to say, "Don't you dare lie to my Little Daemon."
Once the door was closed, Larys's joking expression vanished. He pulled a parchment scroll wrapped in sharkskin from his robes and placed it before Daemon: "Your Highness, this is a letter delivered this morning by Theomore Harlaw, the Iron Islands envoy from yesterday. He said it's a personal letter from their new Iron Islands King Gorne Greyjoy, to you."
Daemon raised an eyebrow and unwrapped the parchment. He had been curious about what kind of personal letter the other party could write to him; could it be thanking him for twice managing to defeat his two rival brothers?
After all, one person died by his sword, and the other disappeared without a trace in the eyes of the world, known only to Duke Taimond, who was imprisoned and tortured in the dungeons of Casterly Rock.
The letter's obsequious, almost groveling attitude was an eye-opener for Daemon, almost changing his opinion of the Ironborn. Aside from the overwhelming admiration for him, which Daemon found unbearable, the only redeeming quality was his practice of the "Old Way" in the Summer Isles.
Gorne's handwriting was crooked and messy, yet the entire page was filled with flattery. "----Your Highness's bravery, like the ancient Old Valyria dragon, shook the Narrow Sea; it was as if the Conqueror had been reborn, a warrior descended to earth. My sinful brothers, Uragon and Dagon, unaware of the might of Heaven, brought about their own destruction. I, your sinful subject Gorne, am deeply grateful for Your Highness's protection, which enabled me to inherit the Iron Islands ' legacy----
I have also heard that Your Highness and Princess Gael are about to get engaged. If I am fortunate enough to receive His Majesty the the Conciliator's approval, I, your humble servant, will have the honor of going to the capital King's Landing present the crown as atonement and pay my respects. I am willing to offer Your Highness and the Princess some treasured items as an engagement gift.
This humble subject has decided to present Your Highness and the Princess with several strings of various gemstones and a Goldenheart bow, obtained from the Summer Isles.
This humble subject's only wish in this life is to follow the Iron Throne. If chaos arises in the Narrow Sea, the ships of the Iron Islands will be at the command of the Iron Throne and His Highness at any time.
The letter was so obsequious that even Larys felt inferior, marveling that the new King of the Iron Islands was just like his messenger uncle—
"This—" Even Rayford couldn't help but lean over for a glance, clicking his tongue repeatedly, "This new King Gorne Greyjoy of the Iron Islands seems to be more eloquent than his uncle, the envoy, who was in the meeting hall yesterday."
Larys leaned back in his chair, tapping the letter on the tip of his cane. "Not necessarily. His uncle's attitude this morning when he asked his servant to deliver the letter to me was even more obsequious than in the letter from his nephew, the king."
These Ironborn of the Iron Islands have always believed that We Do Not Sow," but now they've lowered themselves and are so adept at groveling and fawning. It seems that His Highness helped him eliminate his rivals during those two tours, making him and the Ironborn of the Iron Islands utterly terrified.
However, this Goldenheart bow is quite rare, a specialty of the Summer Isles. It's said to be able to penetrate plate armor, and for him to be willing to take it out is quite an investment.
Daemon handed the letter to Larys for safekeeping, and was about to speak when Rayford, seeing this, handed him another roll of paper, the edges still stained with the salty smell of seawater. "Your Highness, this was just delivered this morning by my brother who was patrolling the Blackwater Rush port. He said that Racallio Reinden sent it from the Summer Isles."
Daemon unfolded the document and saw Racallio's handwriting, still messy but brimming with smugness. "--Little Daemon! I've arrived in the Summer Isles! This place seems to have just been ravaged by pirates; the natives are too soft. I directly occupied three small islands next to Walano and even married an old woman from Jhala— "
She was the local tribal chief, her husband had just died, and she possessed a considerable amount of hardwood and gemstones.
"If you have time after you and Princess Gael get engaged, come ride a dragon here. This place is perfect for nobles like you to have your honeymoon."
When the time comes, I'll bring all my brothers and sisters from before, and I'll prepare the best coconut wine for you. I can also show you the Talking Tree; I bet the stories carved on it are more interesting than any of the plays in Westeros.
Oh, right, I heard from the locals that they don't want Ironborn here, or they'll beat me up every time they see me!
"This guy certainly knows how to pick a spot." Jarman Waters frowned, his one eye scanning the letter. "He's directly seized an island and declared himself king, going back to his old ways of calling himself the King of the Narrow Sea." So that's what he did before in the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones. This time, he's even married a widowed native chieftain. I bet he's going to cause trouble in the Summer Isles again.
Larys laughed, tapping his finger on the map of the Summer Isles on the table. "
Walano and Jhala are both large islands in the Summer Isles, Racallio occupies the surrounding smaller islands, effectively blocking the triangular trade route for Ironborn from the Iron Islands.
Wasn't Lord Gorne Greyjoy of the Iron Islands planning to continue his trade route between the Iron Islands, the Summer Isles, and Slaver's Bay? According to intelligence, this former King of the Narrow Sea, "Queen Racallio, " and "Pirate Exemplar," Racallio Reyndon, who despised slavery, is here. Their Iron Islands ships are probably in for a rough time from now on."
Daemon looked at the islands that Corlys had marked on the map when he went out to sea:
Lotus Port on Walano, Laughing Sea on Omboru, Red Flower Vale on Jhala, and those scattered islets—fingertips gently press on the "Goldenheart Origin" marker.
He had long heard of the products of the Summer Isles.
Emeralds, rubies, various rare hardwoods, and spices like nutmeg and cinnamon that fetch high prices in Westeros;
Not to mention the Goldenheart bows there, whose range far surpasses that of ordinary bows and arrows; if mastered, they would be a valuable asset to the royal military.
He recalled the "Talking Tree" mentioned in Racallio's letter, and the time he had taken Vaegon back to King's Landing on his previous cruise with Redwyne's fleet.
When Redwyne's fleet passed through the Sunset Sea, it was during Maester Bernard's earlier "lectures at sea" that he spoke of "ritualized warfare."
I think of those dark-skinned, archery-skilled indigenous people—
Such a resource-rich yet loosely organized place, with each island having its own princes and princesses, and rarely unified, would be of immense significance to the Iron Throne if conquered, threatening the Dornish in the direction of the Sunset Sea.
"Summer Isles— " Daemon repeated softly, his gaze meeting Larys's.
Larys instantly understood the meaning in his prince's eyes, and tapped his cane on the map. "Does Your Highness think there's potential here?"
Daemon didn't speak, but picked up Racallio's letter, glanced at Gorne's obsequious letter, and a picture gradually formed in his mind.
Racallio has already established a foothold there, which will affect the Ironborn trade, and the loose state of the Summer Isles presents an excellent opportunity for conquest.
He placed the letter on the table, his fingertips tracing the Indigo Straits on the map. "First, keep an eye on Racallio's movements, as well as the trading ships of the Iron Islands —see what they do in the Summer Isles, then have the Shadow Guards find out the relationships between the princes of the various islands."
Larys nodded with a smile, a hint of excitement flashing in his eyes. "Your Highness, rest assured, detailed information about the Summer Isles will be presented to you within half a month."
Watching the interaction between the two, Jarman, though unaware of the specific plan, sensed something unusual. He simply said in a deep voice, "If Your Highness has any plans, the Shadow Guards are ready to act at any time."
Holding the scroll, Rayford added in a low voice, "If the hardwood from the Summer Isles could be transported here, King's Landing's shipyards would be just the right size to build new ships—"
As the morning light gradually filled the intelligence room, the writing on the parchment scrolls appeared inky in the light, and the map of the Summer Isles lay open in the center of the table, like a tempting cake.
Daemon looked at the map, knowing full well that this premeditated scheme concerning the Summer Isles had only just begun. And this time, he wanted not only peace, but also the ownership of this bountiful archipelago.