GOT : Chapter 3

Lord Yronwood took his chair, bringing it closer to his desk as he faced the older, blonde, man in front of him.

"How have you been faring, Franklyn?" Anders asked.

"Not too bad." Lord Fowler replied. "The marches are quiet and brigands are rare. It seems everything is quite peaceful, be it on our side or the Blackmonts, Manwoodys or Wyls. How are you faring?"

"Mostly the same." The lord of Yronwood replied. "A few pirates here and there, but we are mostly spared from attacks."

"Most of them are scattered around the usual spots." Lord Fowler agreed. "Spottswood, Sunspear, Planky Town, Coral Keep…"

"Which makes most ships choose to land at Ghost Hill or the Tor instead of going through the Coral Strait."

"Nymella Toland and Trebor Jordayne are no doubt getting a lot of coin into their coffers. It is long overdue that we clear these pirates from the Stepstones."

"I doubt the present monarch is ready to launch a campaign to rid us of these nuisances. If only we had a fleet…" Anders shook his head. "Seven hells, this isn't even on the list of priorities of Prince Doran, gods only know what priorities he has. At least his son agrees with me."

"Prince Quentyn interests himself in matters of war?" Lord Fowler barely contained his surprise.

Anders nodded in response, taking a sip of Dornish red.

"Aye." He continued, wiping his lips clean. "The boy has had quite the mind for the status of our armies, and was quite shocked when I showed him the current state of our navy."

"What did he say?"

"He said that the second-largest coastline in Westeros not even having a fleet half the size of the Redwyne's alone is not only stupid considering our proximity to the Stepstones, but might be the reason we're getting more raids than usual."

"The boy isn't wrong. Although what has he been proposing to do about this."

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Franklyn?" Anders replied with a smile.

Lord Fowler nodded, and Anders quickly sent word for the prince to report to his solar. It wasn't long before Quentyn Martell appeared in the solar.

The prince was unrecognizable, having lost a lot of weight, and appearing quite thin. On top of that, he was completely clean shaven, and had cut his hair short, so much that even if you could drag his hair down towards his nose, they would only reach his eyes. 

The prince also carried a small sword at all times, as well, if Cletus' reports were anything to go by, a small dagger for personal protection.

Lord Fowler was shocked at the sudden transformation of the prince, and raised an eyebrow when he walked in, as if to confirm it was actually Prince Quentyn he was looking at.

"Lord Fowler, it is a pleasure to meet you again." The prince nodded as he entered the room. "I believe you are Dorne's best general, if Lord Yronwood's words are anything to go by."

"Anders is very kind; I am only an old man." Lord Fowler smiled. "It is a pleasure to see you again, my prince. Anders told me about your fall, I hope your recovery has been swift."

"It has, Lord Fowler, thank you." The prince nodded. "I am told you fought on the Trident during the rebellion? It would be truly captivating to hear the stories you have. Not much is known from the dornish host there. It was too easily forgotten."

Lord Fowler nodded with a painful smile.

"A lot of memories from the rebellion." He finally spoke. "Good and bad. But if you wish to speak of it, we may. Answer me this, Prince Quentyn, though. Anders told me about a plan for a true dornish fleet, is that so?"

"A kingdom the size of Dorne should have a proper fleet to defend itself. We've relied on the royal fleet too much, and the Redwynes hardly protect our trade. Compared to our coasts, our fleet is hardly a fighting force. We need a navy the size of the Hightowers', at the very least."

"And how would we get the timber?" Lord Fowler asked.

"Well, some of it we can find on the land of the Daynes. Despite their location, both Starfall and High Hermitage are quite wooded along the Torrentine Valley." 

Prince Quentyn answered. "Besides, Yronwood and Skyreach do not lack of timber either. And if we run out, a deal can be struck with the North."

"As if Lord Stark would trade with us."

"He'll trade with us if there's something in it for him." Prince Quentyn shrugged. "He's an honourable man, and trustworthy. If we propose a sum large enough to cover expenses to transport these materials, he will come about."

Lord Fowler looked at Anders, who shrugged.

"May I ask a question in return, Lord Fowler?" Prince Quentyn countered. "What are our defences along the border?"

"We have hosts defending the Prince's Pass here." Lord Fowler answered, pointing to the large map of Dorne spread out on the desk before him. "And the Boneway, beyond Yronwood and Wyl."

"And Blackmont?" Prince Quentyn asked.

"It is inaccessible." Lord Fowler countered.

Prince Quentyn stared at the map for a moment, as if thinking about something, calculating the possibilities, before his eyes lit up.

"Not enough." He said simply.

"What?"

It was Anders' turn to be confused.

"I mean, there aren't enough passages covered." The prince replied. "For thousands of years we've raided the Reach and the Stormlands, you'd think they'd have these passes well-fortified by now.

But we've always found a way around these passes. Don't you think this is a little strange?"

"I don't follow, Prince Quentyn." Lord Fowler stared at Anders, who shrugged.

"Raiders and bandits will use smaller roads." Prince Quentyn pointed at the map. 

"There must be several small passes in the Red Mountains, between Skyreach and Yronwood, that are unmapped and uncharted. If an army were to discover them, we would be exposing our flanks."

"I see what you are getting at." Anders smiled. "Indeed, I hadn't considered that possibility, yet."

"If the Vulture King stood his ground for so long, it is because there are dozens of unmapped passes in these mountains, lost to time and before the Dornish War." Prince Quentyn replied. "We need these passes mapped. It only takes one discovery by a hunter or farmer from the Reach of the Stormlands, and we fall."

"Neither Aegon nor Daeron used these passes though, why would anyone else?" Franklyn asked.

"Aegon had dragons, and was overconfident. Daeron wanted to prove his superiority. His attack was well planned out but very conventional. Two direct strikes." Prince Quentyn continued. "War changes. Lord Yronwood taught me that. The commanders of today aren't those of yesterday."

"You talk about war." Franklyn continued, intrigued. "But what war are you talking about. Do you fear an attack?"

"No. Not yet." Prince Quentyn sighed. "But I feel something is coming, and we need to stand ready for it. If we are unprepared, we will fall."

"I have to agree with Prince Quentyn." Anders replied. "Even if war isn't happening, these passes must be mapped out, if only for future reference."

Lord Fowler nodded.

"I'll see what I can do when I return to Skyreach. It was a pleasure meeting you, Prince Quentyn."

"Likewise. Don't forget about the Trident." The prince answered with a nod.

"I won't, but tomorrow if you will." Lord Fowler answered. "The journey has been tiring, and I need a soft bed to sleep on."

"Of course, Lord Fowler. Good day." Prince Quentyn nodded and left.

Once the prince had left, Anders turned back towards his old friend.

"How…" Franklyn muttered.

"Since his fall, he has been a different person." Anders grinned. "Not that I am complaining."

"This changes things."

"Immensely."

"Do you still plan on going through with your plan, then?"

Anders scratched his head for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I wish I could, but I fear I do not know how to proceed. Prince Doran only told me that Quentyn would be the next prince of Dorne."

"I don't like this." Franklyn replied. "There is something that the prince is hiding, and I don't like it."

"Me neither, but what can we do?" Anders took another sip of wine. "We can only wait, now. If Princess Arianne is to be ruled out of the succession, I can only assume it is by marriage. But to whom?"

"The world wonders." Franklyn replied. "Or there's something we haven't considered."

"Mayhaps the princess doesn't want Dorne?"

"My daughters assure me of the contrary." Franklyn sighed. "They tell me she is actually irritated at the fact that her father is setting her aside."

"Fuck Prince Doran." Anders said, taking another sip. "He's playing his games on his own, and I fear that if we are not careful, it might well bite us all in the arse."

Franklyn nodded back.

"Indeed. Although I respect our prince, there is much that is shrouded in secrecy, and I do not like this one bit."

"One thing is for sure, though." Anders continued, before looking at the map of Dorne once more. "Prince Quentyn might just be able to steer Dorne in the right direction…"

"With the right guidance?" Franklyn grinned.

Anders returned it.

"Absolutely."