Reclaiming Jhala Island

After taking Red Flower Vale, Leon led his forces west.

Sweet Lotus Vale lay at the island's western end. Unlike Red Flower Vale, it was an inland valley, with mountains at its back and fields before it. The houses in the valley were built of goldenheart wood, their roofs covered in vivid feathers that looked like an enormous bird's wing in the sunlight.

According to Jalabhar's intelligence, this place had once been his territory too. After occupying it, the rebels had stationed about a hundred men there.

Leon chose not to assault it. He had Jalabhar send several exiles into the village first to spread a rumor in their native tongue: "The prince has returned with a great army. Surrender and you will be spared."

Before nightfall, dozens of the hundred men had fled, and the forty-odd who remained knelt at the village entrance, begging to surrender.

When Leon rode into the valley, the setting sun was staining the feathered roofs gold and red. In an open space, several elders and children knelt in a row, trembling all over.

"Get up," Leon said.

They did not move.

Jalabhar stepped forward and repeated it in the island tongue. Only then did the elders shakily rise. The oldest among them studied Leon with clouded eyes, then asked in broken Common Tongue:

"You are... the dwarf... helping the prince reclaim his realm?"

Leon took no offense. "I am."

The old man suddenly dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. "Thank you... thank you..."

Leon frowned and motioned for Jalabhar to help him up. "No need to kneel. Tell your people to go home and get on with their business."

Leon did not make trouble for the locals. He stayed there for a few days and sent Arthur and Oswell ahead to Sandalwood Town with two hundred soldiers.

After three months of fighting, persuading enemies to surrender, and dividing their ranks, Leon finally reclaimed all of Jhala Island.

After returning to Red Flower Vale, Leon gazed at the land he had paid more than a hundred lives to win.

Sunlight spilled through the canopy, casting dappled light and shadows over the leaf-covered ground. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and fruit, along with a faint trace of sweet wine. In the distance, flocks of colorful parrots flew through the trees, their calls rising one after another.

"This is the Summer Isles." Jalabhar came to stand beside him, a complicated expression on his face. "Beautiful as a dream, isn't it?"

Leon said nothing, his gaze resting on a distant hillside.

"What are those?" He pointed at several particularly lavish buildings on the slope.

Jalabhar followed his gaze, and his expression shifted slightly. "Temples of love and desire."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Love and desire?"

Jalabhar took a deep breath and began to explain.

"Here, the arts of the bedchamber are sacred skills. The temples serve gods and goddesses of love, beauty, and childbirth. Priests and priestesses practice there, sharing their bodies with anyone who desires them. It is worship, a way of honoring the creators. But afterward, both must make offerings to the temple."

Leon fell silent.

He thought of the Faith of the Seven in Westeros, of those celibate brothers and sisters. Everything before him belonged to an entirely different world.

"Most people serve the gods for no more than a year," Jalabhar added. "But those judged the most beautiful, passionate, and skilled stay on and become highly respected priests and priestesses."

Leon nodded. "We need to respect their customs."

Jalabhar paused, seemingly not expecting the dwarf to say that. "Your men... those veterans from Westeros. Can they accept it?"

Leon said nothing. He knew that was the real problem.

Three days later, conflict did indeed erupt.

It began with the veteran named Harold. Drunk at the market in Red Flower Vale, he saw several priestesses in feathered robes walking past and went over to grope them.

The priestesses did not resist. According to the islanders' customs, they willingly accepted anyone's body.

But only within a temple of love and desire, as an act of worship. Not in a marketplace, being publicly molested by a drunken foreigner.

Patrolling guards rushed over and pinned Harold to the ground. Seeing this, Harold's companions immediately drew their swords.

The two sides faced off in the middle of the market, surrounded by islanders who had gathered to watch.

By the time Leon arrived, both sides had drawn steel.

"Stop!" His voice was not loud, but it cut through the clamor.

Everyone looked at him. The dwarf stood amid the crowd, his pale violet eyes like two cold gems. Arthur Dayne stood behind him. Though Dawn was wrapped in cloth, everyone knew what it was.

Pinned to the ground, Harold looked utterly defiant. "My lord! These black-skinned-!"

"Shut up," Leon interrupted.

He walked over to the priestesses. They were around twenty, with dark skin and delicate features, dressed in long robes woven from colorful feathers.

Their leader looked down at Leon, her eyes showing no fear, only calm.

"My soldier offended you. I apologize on his behalf."

The priestess looked at him and suddenly smiled. "You are not from Westeros. Your eyes are the wrong color."

Leon said nothing.

"Your soldiers do not understand our customs. But that is not their fault."

She turned to the onlookers and spoke a few words in the island tongue, after which the crowd gradually dispersed.

Leon looked at Harold. "Get up."

Harold climbed to his feet, his head lowered.

"If there is a next time, you can swim back to Westeros yourself."

Harold's face flushed, but he did not argue.

That evening, Jalabhar called Leon to the palace council chamber.

"The people I sent out have returned."

Leon sat down and waited for him to continue.

Jalabhar spread out a rough map he had drawn from memory, marking the terrain of Walano Island.

"Walano Island is still in turmoil. Two princes are fighting for power, one in Lotus Port in the center, the other in Tall Trees Town in the southwest. Last Lament in the northwest remains neutral, but could take either side at any time."

Leon stared at the map. Walano Island was the territory Jalabhar had promised him, and Lotus Port was the capital of the isles.

"How many troops are there on the island?"

Jalabhar shook his head. "Unclear. Both princes claim to have a thousand men, but the actual numbers may be smaller." He paused. "There is one interesting thing, though."

"What?"

"The prince of Lotus Port sent men to Samber Isle."

Jalabhar pointed to a small dot southeast of Walano Island on the map. "Samber Isle is small, but it has the finest shipyards in the isles. Prince Matasar the mapmaker lives in the Pearl Palace. They say it holds the most complete collection of nautical charts and maps in the Summer Isles. Records of the voyages of exploration undertaken by generations of princes over hundreds of years are all kept there."

Leon's eyes lit up. "Did the prince of Lotus Port approach Samber Isle because he wants to borrow those charts?"

Jalabhar nodded. "Possibly. Or he may simply want to win Prince Matasar over to his side." He looked at Leon. "We need those shipyards and charts."

Leon was silent for a few seconds. "We'll discuss that later. First, we stabilize Jhala Island."

Jalabhar nodded.

"There is something else. Omboru Island..."

Leon looked at him.

"What about Omboru Island?"

Jalabhar's expression grew complicated. "The truth is, no one rules it. The entire island is nothing but primeval forest and native inhabitants. For hundreds of years, not a single prince has managed to conquer Omboru Island."

"Why?"

"Because the forest is too dense, and there are too many beasts. Spotted leopards larger than lions, and packs of red wolves. There is also a kind of giant ape called the Old Men of the Red Forest, bigger than lions. They tear apart anyone who dares enter."

Leon remained silent for a long time.

He looked at the island between Walano Island and Jhala Island on the map. Omboru Island. No princes. No armies. Only forests and beasts.

Just because others could not do it did not mean he could not.

Leaving the council chamber, Leon did not return to his room. Instead, he went alone to the palace roof.

The night breeze blew past, carrying the smell of salt and the distant forest. The fields gleamed silver beneath the moonlight.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Arthur came to his side.

The two stood in silence, gazing into the night.

"Our people and theirs," Arthur finally said, "are clashing."

Leon nodded. "I know."

"The Westerosi and the islanders have different cultures, different customs. Even the way they eat and sleep is different. Forcing them together... will cause trouble."

Leon turned to look at him. "What are you trying to say?"

Arthur was silent for a few seconds. "We need a place of our own. Somewhere that belongs neither to Jalabhar nor to any island prince. Only to us."

Leon merely gazed south without speaking.

Looking farther out, he could faintly make out the outline of another island. Omboru Island.

"I've been thinking about something."

Arthur waited for him to continue.

"Omboru Island has no prince. Only forests and beasts."

Arthur paused, then understood. "You want to take our forces there?"

Leon nodded. "It's big enough, far enough away. No one will come to interfere with us. We can build our own city and make our own rules."

Arthur was silent for a long time. "What about the beasts? The legendary Old Men of the Red Forest?"

The corners of Leon's mouth lifted slightly, and he pointed to his head. "We have this." Then he pointed at Arthur. "And the Sword of the Morning."

Arthur looked at him, a trace of amusement in his dark eyes. "You're using me."

"Yes. Are you willing?"

"Hasn't that been the case all along?" Arthur said with a smile, looking toward Omboru Island.

"Thank you, Leon. Thank you for persuading me to stay alive."

The next day.

Before Leon stood a circular building of white coral stone, with no walls, only a ring of pillars supporting a dome. Several dark-skinned women in white robes stood before the temple, wreaths on their heads.

"We're here," Jalabhar said quietly. "They are priestesses."

Leon looked at the women. The colors at their chests were unusual. Not the devout white of believers, but a faint pink edged with a trace of golden light. Calm, contentment, and a hint of... curiosity?

The priestess who had led the others yesterday approached. She was around twenty, with sharply defined features and a steady gaze. Looking at Jalabhar, she bowed slightly. "The prince has returned."

Jalabhar nodded. "This is Leon, who helped me..." He paused, unsure how to introduce him.

The priestess's gaze settled on Leon and lingered for a long time. "We met yesterday. His eyes are very unusual."

Leon said nothing.

The priestess turned to Jalabhar. "The temple is willing to pray for the prince's blessings. But there is one condition."

Jalabhar frowned. "What condition?"

The priestess looked at Leon. "He must attend tomorrow night's ceremony."

Leon's eyebrows rose slightly.

Jalabhar's expression changed. "That..."

"What ceremony?" Leon asked.

Jalabhar hesitated, then lowered his voice to explain. "The ceremony of love and desire. The next priestess will... with the blessed one..."

Leon understood.

A custom of the Summer Isles. The arts of the bedchamber were considered sacred, and during the ceremony, the priestess coupled with the blessed one, supposedly bringing blessings.

He looked at the priestess. "Why me?"

The priestess smiled. "Because there is something in your eyes that others do not have. We want to know what it is."

Leon was silent for three seconds. "I refuse."

The priestess paused, then smiled even more brightly. "Interesting. Then let us change the condition. Do the temple a favor, and the temple will do you one."

"What favor?"

The priestess pointed northwest. "Samber Isle. The Pearl Palace. The prince there has a portrait of Xanda Qo in his collection. We want that painting."

Leon looked at her. "What do you want it for?"

The priestess did not answer. She simply smiled and turned back toward the temple. "Come to me when you have it."

On the way back, Jalabhar told Leon about her.

Xanda Qo. She had been a princess of Sweet Lotus Vale who ended slavery in the Summer Isles and united all the islands. She had also invented the famous goldenheart bows. She had built vessels called Swan Ships as well, named for their curved prows carved into the shapes of birds and beasts.

Moreover, the next priestess was a direct descendant of Xanda Qo and had come from the Isle of Women at the northernmost end of Walano Island.

That night.

Leon gathered everyone together.

Veterans, sellswords, sailors, and local exiles-more than two hundred people crowded into the palace courtyard, waiting for him to speak.

Leon stood on the steps, looking at them. There were Westerosi and islanders. Some believed in the Seven, others in the God of Love and Desire. Some had white skin, others black.

"You have your conflicts," he began. "I know."

No one spoke.

"You can't stand one another. The Westerosi think the islanders are savage, and the islanders think the Westerosi are rude."

Some lowered their heads; others looked away.

"This is not your fault. You come from different lands, with different rules. Forcing you together was my oversight."

He paused.

"So we are going to find a place of our own."

The veterans exchanged looks. "A place of our own?" Harold could not help asking. "Where?"

Leon pointed north. "Omboru Island."

A stir ran through the crowd.

"Omboru Island?" the locals exclaimed. "That place is full of beasts!"

"Yes. Full of beasts, but no princely forces. No rebels."

He swept his gaze over them all.

"We can build a city of our own. Make our own rules. The Westerosi can live on one side, the islanders on the other, with a shared market in between. Those who believe in the Seven can worship the Seven, and those who believe in the God of Love and Desire can worship him. No one interferes with anyone else."

He paused. "Those willing to come with me, pack your things. Those who aren't can stay on Jhala Island. Jalabhar will take you in."

Silence.

A long silence.

Then a voice rang out.

"I'll go with you."

It was Harold. The old soldier who had caused trouble in the market now stood ramrod straight.

"I spent my whole life as a soldier in Westeros. Fighting for this king, risking my life for that knight. And what did I get in the end? My son died on the Trident, and I couldn't even find his body."

He looked at Leon. "You said we'd build a city of our own. Then let me ask you: once it's built, what will I be?"

Leon looked at him. "You'll be a citizen. Not anyone's soldier, not anyone's slave. You'll be yourself."

Harold froze.

Then he smiled. Tears glimmered in that smile.

"I'll go."

More people began raising their hands.

"I'll go."

"Me too."

One after another.

Arthur stood behind Leon, watching the scene.

He suddenly remembered Rhaegar's words. "The dragon has three heads."

Perhaps this head was here. Perhaps this, too, was a group of people, a place, a new beginning.

The scorching sun beat down on the deck as the fleet of ten ships sailed into the Indigo Straits, bound for Omboru Island.

Leon had left Pudding Face on Jhala Island. The two had reportedly talked for a long time the night before.

Now Leon stood at the bow, watching the coastline of Jhala Island slowly recede.

Rhaenys stood beside him, her little hand clutching his clothes.

"Leon," she asked, tilting her face up, "where are we going?"

Leon looked down at her. "Somewhere no one rules."

Rhaenys tilted her head. "Are there birds?"

The corners of Leon's mouth lifted slightly. "Yes."

"Are there big fish?"

"Yes."

Satisfied, Rhaenys went back to watching the sea.

Thea came over and stood beside Leon. "Young master, have you really thought this through?"

Leon did not answer. He only gazed north.

There, the outline of Omboru Island was faintly visible. Green forest covered the entire island. White beaches lined the coast, and farther inland lay dense, primeval jungle.

Jalabhar's words still echoed in his ears: the "Old Men of the Red Forest" were bigger than lions.

But he also knew those giant apes could not build ships, shoot arrows, or wield swords.

And he could. He had more than two hundred people, Arthur, Oswell, Thea, and all those who followed him.

"I have," he said.

The fleet continued north.

Behind them, Jhala Island slowly receded.

Ahead lay Omboru Island, an unknown forest, a new beginning.