Morning and evening in the harbor, undercurrents stirring
The morning light that had just pierced the clouds over Dragon's Roost Port was shattered by the sound of wooden mallets striking the water from the dock.
Colin Celtigar was directing the sailors Daemon had recruited from the nearby coast to reinforce the gunwales of the fast ships. The patrol mission Daemon had ordered yesterday had been arranged. The crimson and black dragon patterns on the sails of the six fast ships gleamed coldly in the light. Although they would not directly attack the remnants of "Bloodtooth" Pyke's gang for the time being, they would expand the patrol range on the east side of the Narrow Sea three times over, and never let those pirate remnants get close to the trade routes of Dragon's Roost Port.
Alyn Redwyne was already standing at the bow, holding a newly drawn nautical chart of the nearby Narrow Sea area. His fingertips lightly traced the ink line marked "Reef Area" provided by Earl Bartimos of the House Celtigar: "Colin, as His Highness instructed us this morning, we will split into two groups. You will take three ships on the northern route, and I will take three ships on the southern route. We will meet at the shoal west of Arbor at noon."
Behind him, his younger brother Little Horas, was holding a toolbox and carefully inspecting the ballistae on the ship. The shipbuilding skills he had learned from the Myr craftsmen these past few days were being used to test the equipment. The boy's eyes were full of seriousness, and his usual playfulness was gone.
In the terraced fields not far away, Rickard Rowan was squatting on the edge of the field, his fingertips brushing against the tips of the salt-tolerant rye ears.
The green wheat ears were already mostly full, and they would be ready for harvest in another half month. Behind him, Lucas Tyrell held a notebook, carefully noting down the growth of the crops. Occasionally, he would look up to ask for advice on fertilization techniques. The boy who had once felt inferior after being defeated by Daemon had now found his value in the fields. The arrogance and timidity on his face had gradually been replaced by a sense of steadiness.
Olyvar Ochhet was talking to the old chief of the Black Hill Tribe at the end of the field, holding a blueprint for an irrigation canal in his hand. He patiently explained how to divert swamp water to irrigate the terraced fields. The tribal chief nodded frequently, and the natives behind him had already picked up tools and were learning to dig ditches from the farmers who had been "supported" by the various lords of the original Crab Claw Peninsula.
On the training ground, Lyonel Corbray wielded the "Lady Forlorn," its armor gleaming coldly, as he instructed the new recruits in slashing techniques. His silver armor shimmered in the morning light.
Rupert Crabb stood to the side, holding the training plan personally revised by Daemon, occasionally correcting the formation of the new recruits. "Move faster! Next time we encounter bandits, you won't have time to strike a pose!"
Myles Rivers and Tybolt Crakehall were sparring at the back of the line, each wielding a wooden sword and practicing against each other. The sound of their blades clashing drew cheers from the new recruits.
Harlan Hunter, much like Jarman Waters had once taught Daemon during his travels, would instruct archers on proper breathing at a distant archery range. The sound of arrows hitting the bullseye precisely became the most exhilarating background noise on the training ground.
In the document room, Rayford Rosby was checking yesterday's inventory records, while Tommen House Peake stood by to assist him, sorting the trade lists by family.
"Colin's fleet needs to replenish fifty bushels of barley cake and twenty barrels of fresh water, and Alyn needs to bring ten spare crossbow bolts."
Rayford's pen glided across the parchment, his voice steady, "And the herb drying equipment those Citadel requested must be delivered to the medical post today; Miss Alys is still waiting to use it."
Tommen nodded in agreement, his fingertip tracing the words "Reach Wheat Seeds." Recalling Lucas's comments about the crop's growth, he couldn't help but add in the notes, "Salt-tolerant rye is expected to be harvested in half a month."
Beside the herb garden at the medical station, Alys Rivers was bending over to examine the newly picked herbs. The light green leaves were still covered with morning dew; they were a new variety that the maesters of the Citadel had previously discovered in the swamp.
Bethany Hightower squatted to the side, her notebook filled with notes, occasionally pressing for information about the herb's effects. "Miss Alys, can this herb really relieve Dragonfire burns? Which is more effective, it or Dragonblood Grass from ancient Old Valyria?"
Alys Rivers glanced at her indifferently, picking up a Leaf between her fingers. "Both can alleviate external injuries, but they each have their own focus. Dragonblood Grass is for deep wounds, while this one is more suitable for mild burns, just to prevent friendly forces from being affected by Dragonfire on the battlefield—"
She paused, then changed the subject, "Instead of worrying about this, why don't you think about the herbal combinations I taught you yesterday? I'll be testing you on them today."
Bethany instantly suppressed her curiosity and quickly pulled out her notebook, but her eyes still kept drifting towards Daemon, who was training in the distance, her fervent curiosity undiminished.
In Gael's room, Mysaria was combing her long hair, while Johanna Swann was warming the tranquilizer that Alys Rivers had sent over the fire.
A light purple robe was draped over the back of the chair, the Dreamfyre pattern on the hem gleaming silver in the morning light.
"Maybe we can go check on the rye in the terraced fields today. I heard from Lia that it's almost ripe." Gael looked at herself in the Rickard mirror, her ears still slightly red from yesterday. Remembering her embarrassment last night, she couldn't help but chuckle softly.
Mysaria followed up, "If Your Highness wishes to go, I can accompany you and see how Lucas is doing in his studies."
Johanna added, "Brienne and Lia are already waiting outside, Your Highness, please rest assured."
1
As noon approached, Daemon had just finished dealing with the secret report from Larys. Otto in Reach's Landing was still frequently contacting the House Hightower in the King's Landing, but there was no concrete action yet. However, in the blink of an eye, Jarman Waters came rushing over, his one eye wary. "Your Highness, Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron are loitering around the camp again, and they even tried to ask the refugees about your schedule, but they were stopped by the Shadow Guards."
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Daemon put down the report, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let them wander around, as long as they don't cross the line. Oh, and keep an eye on Miss Bethany, don't let her really make those two idiots laugh themselves to death."
Jarman nodded in agreement and turned to leave, just as he bumped into Brienne leading Gael toward the rice terraces. The two nodded to each other and tacitly took their separate paths.
Dragon's Roost Port gradually came alive in the afternoon. Refugees carried their tools to the eastern wasteland, craftsmen hammered ironware in their workshops, and maesters from the Citadel followed Alys Rivers to gather herbs. The entire harbor was like a well-functioning machine.
Gael stood at the edge of the terraces, watching Rickard and Lucas instruct the natives on how to cultivate the land. Her light purple skirt fluttered in the wind. Mysaria and Johanna stood behind her, while Brienne Tarth and Lia Osgre watched the distant woodlands warily, making sure nothing unexpected happened.
After finishing his work for the day, Daemon quietly walked to Gael's side and gently took her hand. "I reckon in a few months, we'll be able to eat the new wheat."
Gael looked up at Daemon, who had come to her side, her eyes full of smiles. "How about you make honey cakes with us later?"
Daemon nodded, his fingertips gently stroking the back of her hand again. Remembering Alys Rivers's instructions, he added, "Remember to drink the tranquilizer Alys gave you; you didn't sleep well last night."
As evening fell, Colin and Alyn's patrol fleet reported that there were no traces of pirate remnants on the eastern side of the Narrow Sea of the peninsula, but they had spotted three merchant ships from the Summer Isles with passes bearing the seals of the Joint Fleet and the Iron Throne, heading towards Dragon's Roost Port. The ships were flying Racallio Reinden's "Bone and Sword" emblem.
Daemon glanced at the messenger, a knowing glint in his eyes —Racallio had probably brought back some specialties from the Summer Isles, and perhaps news about King Gorne of the Iron Islands.
As night deepened, bonfires lit up one after another in Dragon's Roost Port.
Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron sat in the corner, still whispering and discussing how to "gain Daemon's trust," unaware that Bethany was watching them with a half-smile not far away, her notebook seemingly jotting something down.
Standing beside the oil lamp at the makeshift medical station, Alys Rivers poured her newly made herbal ointment into a porcelain bottle. The bottle was engraved with simple runes, presumably also intended for Gael to treat her illness.
Rayford and Tommen were still checking accounts in the document room, their heads bowed in the candlelight;
Lyonel and Rupert were at the training ground summarizing the day's training, nodding frequently at the recruits' progress.
Daemon and Gael stood on the high platform, looking at the lights below. Glutton, as usual, lay crouching not far away with its Grey Ghost. Its dark dragon scales gleamed with a dark gold under the moonlight. Dreamfyre was still circling high in the sky, its pale blue dragon wings sweeping across the night sky.
"Racallio's ship should arrive tomorrow; I wonder what he's brought this time."
Gael leaned on Daemon's shoulder, her voice gentle. Daemon lowered his head and kissed the top of her head. "Whatever I bring, it's enough to have you here."
He recalled Alys Rivers from the previous night, and the fates of people throughout history, and his resolve grew ever stronger.
We must protect the people in front of us and safeguard this rising port. We will wait until next year when Gael is fully recovered before welcoming their child.
On the distant Narrow Sea, Racallio's merchant ships gradually approached, the "bone and sword" emblem on their sails faintly visible in the moonlight, adding a hint of impending new developments to the peaceful night of Dragon's Roost Port.
Deep within the dungeon, Bloodtooth Pyke remains imprisoned. His remaining followers, though not yet causing a stir, serve as a hidden spark, a reminder to Daemon:
Despite the peace that Dragon's Roost Port enjoys today, he still needs to remain vigilant.