A great victory in the Dornish Marches
The morning light of King's Landing's Landing had just spilled over the Blackwater Bay dock when it was torn apart by a deafening cheer.
The fruit vendor forgot to call out his wares, the woman carrying fabric stopped in her tracks, and even the patrolling guards in golden robes couldn't help but pause.
The messenger, bearing a blood-stained parchment, stood in the square before the Red Keep, his voice booming like thunder. "A great victory at the Frontier! The Dornish Sand Serpent Obaya Sand launched a night raid on the Allied forces' encampment, only to be ambushed and utterly defeated by Duke Bomond Baratheon of the Stormlands and Earl Donald Tarly of the Reach! The Sand Serpent has fled alone with only her remaining forces into the Dornish Desert, not even daring to approach the Crimson Mountains!"
Cheers erupted instantly, turning the streets of King's Landing upside down.
Children in the city ran around carrying modified Crowned Stag banners they had picked up at the previous tournament, tavern owners brought out their treasured ale to distribute for free, and even the Smith were striking their the Anvil with a rhythm as lively as music.
On the east side of the plaza, several veterans from the Stormlands, who had served Duke Roland on the Dornish Marches, embraced each other excitedly. One of them, pointing to the word "Baratheon" on the notice, cried out with tears in his eyes, "Back then, Duke Rogar Baratheon guarded the Dornish Marches alongside His Majesty, and now Duke Boremund has protected us once again! We, the House Baratheon stags of the Stormlands, are the shield of the Dornish Marches!"
The news spread like wildfire, quickly reaching the Red Keep. Damon had just emerged from the intelligence room when Rayford came running up to him, scroll in hand, his face beaming with joy. "Your Highness! Good news from the frontier! Duke Bomond has won! Although the Dornish Sand Serpent Obaya Shad has escaped, the allied forces have suffered fewer than a hundred casualties and have captured twenty Dornish supply wagons!"
Daemon took the scroll, his fingertips brushing over the words "ambush" and "major defeat," and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.
He recalled that Mistwood, that fellow Borros had said, "We'll show the Sand Snakes of Dorne how mighty the men of Stormlands are." But now, his father, Duke Boremund, had preemptively and brilliantly ambushed Dorne, not only repelling Dorne but also securing peace on the Dornish Marches for his sons and the Iron Throne.
"Come, follow me to see His Majesty." He turned and walked towards the King's palace. He figured that with such a brilliant victory, the elderly Jaehaerys and his wife must have already prepared a feast the moment the news arrived.
The Grey Ghost chased after Daemon, a small, light gray dragon with a silk handkerchief embroidered with the Dreamfyre pattern in its mouth. It was obviously left in the intelligence room by Gael when she came to see Daemon sometime, but now it was treating it like a toy.
The banquet hall at the Red Keep was already bustling with activity.
The servants, dressed in brand-new uniforms, were placing roast meat and sweet pies from silver platters onto the long table. On the wall hung a tapestry depicting Jaehaerys riding Vermithor to support Lord Rogar Baratheon during the Third War of Dorne. Even the fireplace in the corner had been filled with new firewood, and warmth spread through the cracks in the stone.
Queen Alysanne sat by the window, directing Alicent and the Red Keep's maids to arrange flowers on the long table. Seeing Daemon enter, she smiled and waved, "Little Daemon, you've come at the perfect time. Your grandfather just heard the good news this morning and is telling Baelon he wants to throw a grand banquet."
King Jaehaerys sat on his throne, clutching the report of victory sent by Boremund in his hand, his silver beard trembling slightly.
Upon seeing Daemon, he immediately beckoned him forward, his voice filled with pride as he praised his half-brother, "That Boremund fellow hasn't disgraced the House Baratheon! His father, Rhoga, guarded the Dornish Marches for thirty years, and now he's secured another thirty years of peace on the Dornish Marches with a victory!"
Baelon stood to the side, his eyes filled with approval. "Duke Boremund's ambush this time was brilliant—he deliberately exposed a weakness in the allied camp, and then had Earl Donald Tarly lead the Reach soldiers to circle around to the rear of the Sand Snakes, attacking from both sides and catching the Dornish off guard. Obara Sand suffered heavy losses this time, and I'm afraid she won't dare to invade the Dornish Marches again for some time."
As they were talking, Gael walked in, lifting the hem of her light purple skirt. Brienne Tarth and Lia Osgrey stood guard on either side of her, while Mysaria and Johanna Swann followed behind, each carrying a food box.
"Father, Mother." She bowed respectfully, her gaze falling on Daemon, her eyes full of smiles. "We just returned from watching Dreamfyre in Dragonpit. Hearing of the great victory at the Dornish Marches, we specially had the kitchen prepare honey cakes for everyone to try."
Queen Alysanne took her young daughter's hand and made her sit beside her. "You're so thoughtful, my dearest Little Gael, the Child of Winter. You know your father wants a treat after hearing the good news."
She opened the food box, and the aroma of honey cakes immediately filled the air. Each cake was imprinted with a small stag and a three-headed dragon, clearly made to celebrate the victory of the allied forces.
In the afternoon, the nobles who were still at the banquet in King's Landing's Landing began to arrive one after another.
Taimond Lannister, dressed in a robe embroidered with a golden lion and clutching a wine glass, bowed deeply to Jaehaerys upon entering. "Your Majesty, the Westerlands celebrate Duke Boremund's victory! The Smith in Lannisport have begun forging celebratory medals for the Iron Throne's heroes, which will be delivered to the Dornish Marches in a few days!"
Corlys House Velaryon, clad in silver armor, his silver hair tied back with a seahorse-patterned headband, held a brass telescope in his hand and said with a smile, "The Dornish Marches is peaceful, the Dornish honest, and trade between the Sunset Sea and the Sea of Summer, and even the Narrow Sea, will be smoother. I have already sent three silver ships with me to deliver some supplies to Duke Boremund, and also to check on the Dornish Marches's defenses."
Borros Baratheon was the last to arrive. Dressed in a dark green outfit, his left shoulder injury had healed. As soon as he entered, he took out the speech that Lorent Grandson and the others had taught him countless times that morning after hearing the news, and knelt on one knee before the throne. "The allied forces at the Dornish Marches have achieved a great victory! Borros Baratheon, on behalf of my father, thanks Your Majesty for your grace!"
He spoke with great emotion, even patting his chest to promise, "Once we return to Stormlands, we will definitely learn from Father and the others. If the Dornish Sand Serpents dare to invade the borders of my Iron Throne again, I will personally slay that Obaya Shad for His Majesty and the Iron Throne!"
Jaehaerys chuckled, gesturing for him to rise. "Good! That's the spirit of the House Baratheon! At this banquet, you'll sit next to Little Daemon. and Big Daemon., so you young people can exchange tactics and experiences."
When the banquet officially began, the long table was already laden with delicacies: roasted wild boar, smoked salmon, sweet cherry tarts, as well as wines from Arbor and amber wines from the Summer Isles.
Jaehaerys raised his glass, his voice echoing throughout the banquet hall. "Today's feast is twofold: first, to commemorate Duke Boremund Baratheon's great victory, and second, to celebrate the renewed peace of the Dornish Marches! I hereby declare that Duke Boremund will be awarded three thousand golden dragons, Earl Donald Tarly of the Reach Horn Hill receive one thousand golden dragons, and all soldiers of the Dornish Marches Forces will each be awarded three golden dragons!"
This sum of money was a considerable fortune before Robert Baratheon, who later became known for his extravagant spending.
After all, who could have imagined that a king in later generations would casually award tens of thousands of gold dragons to the champion of each tournament just to hold a martial arts competition?
A complete set of fine armor, including superior chainmail, throat guard, greaves, and full helmet, costs only eight hundred silver deer, which is about four gold dragons.
A single gold dragon can be exchanged for 30 silver moons, 210 silver stags, or a full 11,760 copper coins. Keep in mind that the cheapest sausage and a dime in Westeros countryside only cost one copper coin.
"Long live the Emperor!" the crowd shouted in unison, the clinking of wine glasses mingling with cheers.
Daemon raised his glass, clinked it with Borros and Daemon Targaryen beside him, and then looked at Gael across from him—she was eating honey cake with a small silver fork, her light purple eyes full of laughter. When she saw him looking over, she raised her glass to him.
Taimond Lannister took a sip of wine and said to Corlys beside him, "Lord Boremund's victory not only repelled Dorne but also brought the Reach and Stormlands closer together. Donald Tarly is a pragmatic man; trade between the Westerlands and the Reach will be smoother in the future."
Corlys nodded, his gaze sweeping over the younger generation in the banquet hall:
Alaric Dondarrion was discussing the Dornish Marches wars with Roland Clinton, brothers Theogood Fell and Willie Fell were discussing the terrain of Dorne, Alyn Redwyne was whispering something to his younger brother Little Horas. Redwyne Robert Rowan beside him, and the two Daemon Damon and Borros raised a toast in celebration.
These young people are the future force protecting the Seven Kingdoms.
Daemon put down his glass, looking at the lively scene before him, and felt a warmth in his heart.
From the naval battle at the Stepstones to the submission of the Iron Islands, and now to the great victory on the Dornish Marches, the temporary peace among the Seven Kingdoms is no longer a distant dream.
He recalled Gael's words that "their wedding will be held on Dragonstone," and the astrological signs Vaegon had mentioned. Suddenly, he felt that this peace was the best gift for their wedding.
The Grey Ghost curled up at his feet, a piece of sweet pie that had fallen to the ground between its teeth, and was happily eating it.
Gael quietly handed Damon a piece of honey cake from under the table. Daemon took it, took a bite—the sweetness spread along the tip of his tongue, just like his mood at that moment.
He looked at Gael, who was smiling at him. The candlelight reflected in her light purple eyes, as warm as the winter sun.
Halfway through the banquet, Jaehaerys brought up Boremund again. "The Duke of Boremund, like his father, is a loyal subject of the Iron Throne. The Duke of Rogar defended the Dornish Marches, repelling countless Dorne attacks; now the Duke of Boremund has continued that legacy. But I believe that with them, with all of you here, and with the future of Westeros's younger generation, peace on the Dornish Marches can be maintained not only for these past thirty years, but for the next thirty, and perhaps even longer."
Queen Alysanne, holding the King's hand, added, "When Duke Boremund returns to pay his respects, I will personally sew him another cloak, embroidered with the Crowned Stag of Baratheon and the three-headed red dragon of Targaryen, to symbolize the eternal bond between the Stormlands and the Royal Family."
Everyone echoed their agreement, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall became increasingly lively.
Daemon, observing all this, knew that this banquet was not only to celebrate victory, but also to unite the forces of the Seven Kingdoms.
Although Dorne has retreated, there may still be challenges ahead, but as long as the royal family and the lords are of one mind, and as long as there are loyal ministers like Boremund, the peace of the Seven Kingdoms can continue.
As night deepened, the candlelight in the banquet hall remained bright.
Cheers, laughter, and the clinking of glasses drifted out of the Red Keep through the open windows, blending into the lively atmosphere of King's Landing's Landing.
Daemon held Gael's hand and stood by the window, looking at the distant starry sky. The Dornish Marches was now pacified, and all the wars of the year had come to an end with the arrival of Lord Gorne Greyjoy of the Iron Islands to declare his submission in King's Landing's Landing.
Next will be my engagement ceremony with Gael.
Vaegon said the celestial alignments next month were auspicious for the wedding, and he thought that by then, the peace of the Dornish Marches and the tranquility of the Narrow Sea would provide the perfect backdrop for this ancient Old Valyria wedding.