An invitation from the prince of Red Flower Vale in the Summer Isles

The journey from Nightsong to Highgarden took six days.

They avoided the main road, heading west along the edge of the Red Mountains before making a detour north by way of Horn Hill.

Pudding Face led the way. He said the route was longer, but safe, with few patrolling soldiers and no checkpoints.

On the evening of the sixth day, they finally saw the outline of Highgarden.

The white marble castle stood atop a hill, its battlements covered in climbing roses in full bloom. In the dusk, it looked like a dream suspended in pink clouds.

"We're here," Pudding Face said.

Leon raised a hand, signaling the company to stop.

Highgarden. Tyrell.

Three years ago, he had won Olenna's regard here, won Willas's friendship, and won ten years' use of those two warehouses and berths.

Three years later, he had returned. With two Kingsguard, a Targaryen orphan, two Dragon Eggs, and a band of followers.

"Young master," Maester Loomis asked quietly, "how do we get in?"

Leon took something from inside his clothes.

A small seal. The token Willas Tyrell had given him.

"With this."

They did not enter Highgarden, but stopped at a secluded manor outside the city.

It was a property belonging to House Tyrell, used specifically to receive "guests who could not conveniently enter the city." Pudding Face had learned of it.

Leon had the company hide in the woods on the hillside and rode toward the manor with only Thea and Arthur.

Two guards stopped them at the manor gates.

"Who goes there?"

Leon held up the golden rose seal. "Tell young master Willas that an old friend has come to collect a debt."

The guards exchanged a glance, and one turned and ran into the manor.

A quarter of an hour later, a figure leaning on an ebony cane appeared at the entrance.

Willas Tyrell.

He had matured somewhat in three years, his face less boyish and more composed.

But when he saw Leon, a flicker of delighted surprise still passed through his brown eyes.

"Leon!" He hurried over, nearly tripping on the threshold. "Seven above, you're alive!"

Leon looked at him. "Alive. But I need your help."

Willas's gaze swept over Thea and Arthur behind him.

Arthur wore a coarse cloth cloak with the hood pulled low, but the legendary greatsword Dawn could not be hidden.

Willas's pupils contracted slightly.

But he asked nothing. "Come in. We'll talk inside."

Candlelight flickered in the manor's study.

Willas closed the door, turned, and looked at Leon.

"Everyone's saying you're a dragon loyalist. Some say you died in King's Landing, some say you went back to Casterly Rock with Tyrion, and others say..."

He paused.

"Say what?"

Willas looked at him, his gaze complicated. "That you disappeared after the Trident. Robert sent men looking for you."

Leon's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Robert was looking for me?"

"He mentioned you when he was drunk. 'Where's that Little Leon gone? I still owe him a drink.'"

Leon was silent for a second. "Keep this quiet for me. I can't show myself for now."

Willas nodded. "I know."

He went to the bookcase, pressed a concealed compartment, and took out a roll of parchment.

"This is a manor in my name, on the lower Honeywine, near Oldtown. It's very secluded, very safe. You can hide there for a while."

He handed the parchment to Leon.

Leon took it and unrolled it. A red dot marked the map, with a few words beside it: Morning Dew Manor.

"Thank you."

Willas shook his head. "You helped my father. You helped House Tyrell. This is nothing."

He paused, then suddenly lowered his voice. "By the way, there's something you should know."

Leon looked at him.

"Jalabhar Xho, the prince of Red Flower Vale from the Summer Isles, is in Highgarden right now."

Leon's heart gave a thump. Jalabhar Xho. The exiled prince of the Summer Isles.

"What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be in King's..." Leon hastily shut his mouth.

"Exile. Civil strife broke out on Jhala Island. His younger brother overthrew his rule, and he escaped. He wants to spend a few months in King's Landing and ask Robert to send troops to restore his kingdom."

He sighed.

"He's lobbying all the great houses now. My father met him and gave him some money, but wouldn't promise troops. He's staying at an inn outside the city, waiting for the next person willing to help him."

Leon was silent for several seconds.

Civil strife on Jhala Island. An exiled prince. Desperate to reclaim his kingdom.

"I want to meet him," Leon said.

Willas looked at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I knew you'd say that." He rose. "Come with me."

The inn was three li outside Highgarden, a small establishment called the Swan Song.

Willas led them through the back door, across the kitchen, and up to the second floor. A dark-skinned guard stood outside the innermost room, a curved sword at his waist.

Willas stepped forward and spoke a few quiet words. The guard nodded and opened the door.

Inside, a young man sat by the window, staring blankly outside.

He had the deep brown skin characteristic of Summer Islanders, fine features, and black curls falling over his shoulders.

He wore a cloak of red and green feathers, still striving to maintain a prince's dignity.

Jalabhar Xho.

Hearing the door, he turned. His dark brown eyes were filled with exhaustion and wariness.

"Willas?" He stood. "And this is..."

Leon entered and stood in the candlelight.

Jalabhar looked down at him and froze for a moment-but quickly recovered his manners.

"I am Jalabhar Xho, prince of Red Flower Vale in the Summer Isles. May I ask who you are..."

"Leon. Someone who wants to talk to you."

Jalabhar looked at him with a hint of confusion. "About what?"

Leon did not answer directly. He sat down at the table and gestured for Jalabhar to sit as well.

"Jhala Island. Civil strife. You were driven out. You want someone to help you reclaim your kingdom."

Jalabhar's expression changed for an instant. "What do you want?"

Leon did not answer that question.

"Robert won't help you. The Small Council won't agree. At most, the great houses will give you some money to let you live in dignified exile. No one will send troops halfway across the world for some distant island."

Jalabhar clenched his fists. "Then why are you here?" His voice trembled slightly. "To mock me?"

Leon looked at him.

That cluster of light in Jalabhar's chest-deep red anger, gray-white despair, and an exceedingly faint trace of pale golden hope.

That hope was almost extinguished, but it remained.

"I'm here to give you a choice."

Jalabhar froze. "What choice?"

Leon took a stack of things from inside his clothes and set them on the table.

Several simple maps. The outline of the Summer Isles, Walano Island, Jhala Island, Omboru Island... yet every island was clearly marked.

Jalabhar's breath stopped for an instant. "You... how do you have maps of these islands?"

Leon remained silent. He simply looked at Jalabhar.

"I can help you reclaim your kingdom. I'll provide men, weapons, and money. Help you retake Jhala Island and take the seat that should be yours."

Jalabhar stared at him, his eyes wide. "You? You alone?"

"Not alone. I have men."

He pointed out the window.

Arthur Dayne stood in the courtyard in the darkness, his hood lowered, moonlight falling on his face.

Jalabhar saw that face, saw that sword. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again.

"The Sword..." His voice trembled. "That's the Sword of the Morning..."

Leon nodded. "There are others. Not just him."

Jalabhar turned toward Leon.

Something was changing violently in those dark brown eyes. The pale golden hope was spreading, burning.

"What... what do you want?" His voice was hoarse. "If you help me reclaim my kingdom, what do you want?"

Leon looked at him. "Walano Island."

Jalabhar froze. "Walano Island? What do you want that island for?"

"That's my business. All you need to know is that I'll help you retake Jhala Island, and you'll give me Walano Island. The governorship, hereditary in perpetuity."

Jalabhar remained silent for a long time.

He looked at Leon, at that small figure, at those pale purple eyes.

"Walano Island is the northernmost large island in the Summer Isles. Lotus Port is the islands' capital. Taking Walano Island is the same as taking half the Summer Isles."

Leon nodded. "I know."

"Then what makes you think I'll agree?"

Leon looked at him.

The pale golden hope in Jalabhar's chest pulsed violently, but beside it, the deep red anger and gray-white despair remained. He was hesitating, struggling, weighing his options.

"Because you have no other choice."

Jalabhar clenched his fists.

"Robert's new dynasty is about to finish its war. He certainly won't help you. The Tyrells won't help you. The Martells can barely handle their own affairs. How long have you been in Westeros? How many nobles have you met? What have they given you?"

He paused. "Money? A few gold dragons? Sympathy? A few empty words?"

Jalabhar's breathing quickened.

"I can give you something real. Men. Weapons. Ships. Money. A plan you can fight with."

He stood, walked to the window, and gazed into the night outside.

"I'll help you retake Jhala Island. You'll support me as governor of Walano Island. We each get what we need."

He turned and looked at Jalabhar.

"If you agree, we'll do it. If you don't, I'll leave right now and never mention it again."

A deathly silence fell over the room.

Jalabhar stared at him. In those dark brown eyes, that pale golden hope burned wildly.

At last, he spoke. "You... why should I believe you can do it?"

Leon hesitated, then took something else from his bundle and placed it on the table.

A Dragon Egg. Its yellow shell and dark golden markings gleamed softly in the candlelight.

Jalabhar's eyes went wide. "This is..."

"A Dragon Egg. It's a fossil, but it wasn't always."

Jalabhar's mouth opened, then closed. He looked at the egg, at Leon, and then at the white-cloaked figure outside the window.

"You..." His voice was hoarse. "Who exactly are you?"

Leon looked at him. "Someone who wants to leave Westeros. Someone who wants to find a place far away and live in peace."

He paused. "Someone who can help you reclaim your kingdom."

Jalabhar remained silent for a long time.

Then he suddenly laughed. There was bitterness in that smile, relief, and a trace of madness.

"You know, I've met dukes and earls in Westeros. Not one of them was willing to help me. Not one."

He looked at Leon. "And now it turns out to be a dwarf."

Leon did not get angry. He simply looked at him.

Jalabhar drew a deep breath, stood, walked over to him, and held out his hand.

"Deal. Walano Island is yours. As long as you help me retake Jhala Island, I don't care about the other two islands."

Leon clasped his hand.

"Deal."

It was late at night when they left the inn.

Willas waited for him at the entrance. "Did you reach an agreement?"

Leon nodded.

Willas looked at him, something complicated in his brown eyes. "You're mad. The Summer Isles? They're thousands of li from here."

Leon did not answer.

Willas sighed. "Still, if you really mean to go... those two warehouses and berths my grandmother left for you happen to be on the Honeywine. They're still there. You can use them to assemble ships and supplies. I'll make sure House Tyrell's vassals ask no questions."

Leon looked at him. "Just because I'm a dwarf and you're a cripple?"

Willas laughed, rubbing his chest as he did. "Because I think you're right. With your dragon loyalist label, there's no place left for you in Westeros. Stay, and sooner or later someone will get you killed. Better to leave."

He paused. "Besides, I'd like to see what a Lannister can make of things in the Summer Isles."

The corners of Leon's mouth lifted slightly.

Willas patted his shoulder. "Come to me anytime you need anything."

Leon nodded, turned, and disappeared into the night.

Three days later, they reached the manor Willas had mentioned.

Morning Dew Manor sat in a valley along the upper reaches of the Mander River. Dense oak woods surrounded it, and a stream flowed past its entrance.

Several timber-and-stone houses stood in a pleasing arrangement. The largest had two stories, enough to house everyone.

"This is a good place." Oswell looked around. "Secluded, easy to defend, with a water source."

Maester Loomis had already begun counting the rooms. He held Rhaenys in his arms, and the little girl surveyed this new place curiously with her black eyes.

Arthur stood in the courtyard, gazing at the southern sky.

Leon walked over to him. "What are you thinking about?"

Arthur was silent for a few seconds. "Gerold. The last words he said."

Leon said nothing.

Arthur turned to look at him. "Are you really going to the Summer Isles?"

Leon nodded. "They're far enough away that Robert can't reach them. We need a place of our own. Besides, Jalabhar needs someone to help him reclaim his kingdom. This is an opportunity."

Arthur was silent for a long time.

"I'll go."

Leon looked at him.

"The Sword of the Morning should have died at the Tower of Joy, alongside Gerold. But I didn't die."

He paused. "Since I'm alive, I have to do something a living man ought to do."

Leon nodded. "Welcome."

That night, Leon sat by a second-floor window in the manor, gazing out into the darkness.

The Dragon Egg lay quietly in his arms.

Soft footsteps came from outside the door. Maester Loomis pushed it open and entered, carrying a cup of hot milk.

"Young master, you're still awake."

Leon took the milk and sipped it. "Maester."

"Yes?"

"Do you think all these things I'm doing are worth it?"

Loomis sat down beside him and was silent for a long time.

"Young master, I've watched over you since the day you were born. It wasn't luck that kept you alive this long."

He looked at Leon. "You're not doing these things because they're worth it or not. You're doing them because you gave your word."

Leon said nothing.

Loomis rose, walked to the door, then stopped again. "Young master."

"Yes?"

"Wherever you go, I'll follow."

Leon looked at him. Those eyes were filled with calm.

"...Thank you."

Loomis smiled, opened the door, and left.

Leon turned back and continued gazing out the window.

In the distance, the southern sky was pitch-black.

Beneath that darkness lay the sea.

Below the sea lay the Summer Isles.

More than fifty islands, a fractured kingdom, an exiled prince, and a future that needed to be conquered.