The rock lion's thanks, hear me roar
On the ship returning from Fair Isle, Daemon watched the sunset over the sea. Glutton and Dreamfyre soared freely in the sky, and two giant dragons, one black and one pale blue, intertwined their Dragonfire in the air, creating an epic scene on the sea. Meanwhile, Daemon's fingers unconsciously caressed the hilt of the Blackfyre.
He recalled what Earl Humfrey Left of Golden Tooth Lefford had said, "Casterly Rock is ruled by a young lord and a good old man." He also thought of the laxity of the Lannisport and the return of Lord Taimond Lannister as "Warden of the West," a man who would likely not let the matter rest.
Sure enough, on the morning after Daemon and his men returned to Casterly Rock from Fair Isle, Taimond Lannister's party arrived.
The old duke himself rode a pure white steed at the head of the procession, wearing a bright red ceremonial robe embroidered with gold thread, a lifelike golden lion on his chest, and even the armrests on the saddle were made of gold.
However, his face was ashen, and he skipped the entrance ceremony, barging directly into Casterly Rock's main castle with his entourage, where he ran into Loreon Lannister, who was with Jason and the Tyland twins looking at armor.
"Uncle Loreon!" Taimond's roar shook the candlelight in the main castle. He grabbed his uncle by the collar, the crimson epaulettes of his tuxedo forcing Loreon back. "I entrusted Casterly Rock to you, and this is how you defend it? Lannisport burned down! You've disgraced the entire Westerlands and House Lannister!"
Loreon's face turned deathly pale, the gold thread on his uniform trembling. "Taimond, I—I've already had them rebuild, and the garrison has been strengthened—"
"Reconstruction? Training?" Taimond shook him off, pointing out the window towards the reconstruction of Lannisport. "Those Ironborn are practically at our doorstep, and you're still bringing this up? When I King's Landing Master of Ships, people mocked me every day about Lannisport! Now I've resigned and come back to make everyone know that the House Lannister ' debts must be repaid!"
Before he could finish speaking, several guards stepped forward and restrained Loreon. Taimond looked at his uncle's pale face and said in a voice as cold as the Westerlands winds, "You're too old to concern yourself with Casterly Rock. Pack your things and go retire to your manor in Cornfield. Never set foot in Casterly Rock again."
Loreon opened his mouth, but ultimately lowered his head and was carried away by the guards.
This scapegoat, chosen by House Lannister and all the nobles of the Westerlands for the Burning of Lannisport, ultimately could not escape his fate as a scapegoat and was banished from Casterly Rock, where he had served for half his life.
Jason and Tyland, the twins, were terrified and hid behind the servants. The eight- or nine-year-old children rubbed their sleepy eyes, clearly not understanding what was happening. Just the day before, they had been trying on new suits, preparing to attend the farewell banquet for Daemon, but now they watched their great-uncle Loreon, who was usually so kind to them, being ordered away by their grandfather, their eyes full of bewilderment.
After dealing with Loreon, Taimond straightened his tuxedo and, accompanied by his squire, went to find Daemon.
At this moment, Daemon was standing in the Hall of Heroes, looking at the hundreds of suits of armor displayed on both sides. Some were inlaid with jewels, and some were engraved with battle achievements. The suit in the very center was the armor left by Loren Lannister, the last Lannister king of the Rock, during the time of Aegon the Conqueror. The golden lion head helmet gleamed coldly in the candlelight.
"Your Highness Daemon." Taimond's voice, no longer filled with rage, held a touch of solemnity. He walked to Daemon's side, his gaze falling on the royal armor. "Thank you for the Lannisport matter. If it weren't for your and Princess Gael's dragons, the House Lannister's reputation would have been trampled into the sea by those Ironborn."
Daemon turned around and looked at the weariness in the eyes of the Warden of the West. No matter how gorgeous his bright red suit was, it couldn't hide the bloodshot eyes, clearly indicating that he had stayed up a lot of nights while traveling.
"Your Grace, you needn't be so polite. I was just doing what I had to do." Daemon paused, then gestured to the royal armor. "After all, the honor of House Lannister shouldn't be maintained solely by others."
Taimond nodded, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "I used to think that gold could protect everything. Now I know that complacency is more terrifying than the Iron Islands ' fleet." He walked over and patted Daemon on the shoulder. "I heard you're heading along the Crakehall Ocean Road the Reach? I've already arranged a farewell feast at the Golden Gallery. Also, the House Lannister owe you a favor. If you ever need anything on the other side of the Narrow Sea, the Westerlands ' army and gold are at your disposal."
It seems the news of Daemon's plans to make his mark across the Narrow Sea has already reached the ears of the former Master of Ships on the sea breeze. But that's fine too; rumors mixed with the truth provide a layer of protection for Daemon's Black Dragon Blackfyre empire.
The farewell feast that evening was exceptionally grand. The Golden Gallery was filled with delicacies from the Westerlands: roasted wild boar, stewed venison, bread smeared with honey, and cakes decorated with gold leaf.
Attendants carried gilded goblets filled with the strongest Lannisport red wine. Guests, dressed in magnificent attire, included nobles from the Westerlands —the lord of Sarsfield, the knight of Clegane's Keep, and the Earl of Cornfield. Their gazes toward Daemon were filled with awe, devoid of the doubt and disdain they had previously held for the young dragon king's past achievements. A dragon is a dragon, even in its youth, it is a true dragon.
Gael sat next to Daemon, holding a piece of gold-leaf cake, her pale purple eyes full of laughter. "I didn't expect Duke Taimond, who looks so serious, to be so good at hosting banquets."
Lyonel Corbray, holding his wine glass and gazing at the treasures displayed in the corridor, murmured, "Is this the House Lannister way—either don't do it at all, or do it with the utmost respectability?"
Larys Strong somehow secretly brought in his "Mr. Longlegs," who had somehow slipped away to a corner of the corridor. He stared at a piece of red gold ore in a glass case, his dark brown eyes gleaming thoughtfully, probably calculating how much intelligence this ore could be exchanged for.
Rupert followed Colin to the Hall of Heroes to look at armor. The two young men argued endlessly about a set of knight's armor inlaid with rubies, which made the nobles around them laugh.
Halfway through the banquet, Taimond raised his glass, his voice echoing down the corridor. "Gentlemen! I, Taimond Lannister, swear in the name of the Warden of the West that His Highness Daemon is a benefactor of House Lannister and a friend of the Westerlands! From this day forward, anyone who dares to disrespect His Highness will be an enemy of House Lannister!"
Everyone raised their glasses, the clinking echoing through the corridor. Daemon watched the lively scene before him, then looked out the window at the night view of Casterly Rock— lights twinkled like stars on the giant rock, the sound of the waves of the Sunset Sea could be faintly heard, Glutton and Dreamfyre rested in the open space outside the city, and dragon breath glowed faintly in the night.
He knew his journey in the Westerlands was coming to an end. Next, the forests of Crakehall awaited them at the end of the Ocean Road, and the Lannisport breezes had already swept through. But now, holding his wine glass, feeling the cool touch of the gold leaf, and hearing Taimond's words, "A Lannister Always Pays His Debts," he suddenly felt that this journey to the Westerlands might influence the future of the game more profoundly than he had imagined.
As night deepened, the lights of the Golden Corridor remained bright. Damon silently put down his wine glass and looked in the direction of Gary and Messaria. The girls were chatting with the daughter of Earl Farman, who had come to visit Casterly Rock, about the fun they had on Fairy Island, their eyes full of smiles.
He then looked at Rupert and Colin in the distance. The two young men were still arguing about the armor, while Larys and Jarman had disappeared without a trace, probably off exploring the mines of Casterly Rock again.
The winds of the Westerlands swept through the "Lion's Mouth," carrying the scent of the sea and the bittersweet feeling of parting. Daemon knew that when the sun rose tomorrow, they would embark on their journey to the Reach. The towering rocks of Casterly Rock, the gold of Lannisport, the silver ship of Fair Isle, and Taimond's solemn promise would all become the most vivid footnotes to the Westerlands in his memory.