Chapter 7 - Investigation

Chapter VII: Investigation

14 BC

Qorenport

To Master Arin Rada,

I am aware you dislike any flowery pageantry and the like, so I will get straight to the point: I wish to join your side.

I cannot say much in this letter in case it gets intercepted, but what I found out is that our vassals, whom my sister believes is under the puppetry of House Martell, are actually manipulated by a third party - one who holds a grudge against my family. To this end, he makes use of Guerin Ashtar, one of my house's vassals and a highly corrupt and influential politician in my court.

Perhaps seeing your rapid growth to power seemingly in defiance of House Martell, this third party also seeks to partially pin the blame on you and drive a wedge between our two sides.

Should you wish to find the answer to this puzzle, meet me at Qorenport Keep, and from there we shall discuss how to handle the next step.

Sincerely,

Edrick Qeffar of Qorenport

"In all honesty, I did not expect for him to directly approach us like this, and to request a meeting right in the heart of Qorenport?" Sainalia remarked.

"That's exactly why," Arin stated, "He's deliberately goading me into stepping into the lion's den, testing my willingness to go far enough to secure my family's position."

"But he's not the type to lie to people outright or make such omissions," Belandra interjected, "Are you certain it was not a forgery, Master Arin?"

"I'm not," Arin admitted with reluctance, "For all I know, it could be a trap, and yet it's also a golden opportunity to get to the bottom of this mystery."

"I beg your pardon, Master Arin, but what mystery?" Astin questioned, "Isn't it established by My Lady that they are in the pocket of House Martell?"

"That's way too suspiciously convenient for my liking," Arin remarked, "And the reason why I accepted Edryck's invitation, fake or not."

"What?" Belandra and Arthur echoed.

"We're here, Master Arin," Sainalia stated.

Escorted by a total bodyguard cadre of a hundred men and women, their entourage reached the town of Qorenport, a large and imposing castle looming in the distance. Its walls were thick and high, its ramparts defended by siege weaponry and tall crenelations, its troops manning the walls with nary a flinch. Close to the water were large stone piers and docks comprising its harbour, an echo of its long-gone puritan Rhoynish heritage and craftsmanship.

As they approached the town gates they were permitted passage by the guardsmen, and it was here that Arin bore witness to Qorenport's appalling state.

Few goods were put on display at the markets, an air of listlessness and lethargy among the people, who themselves looked impoverished and hungry. Many beggars littered the streets, helplessly begging for lacking charity, and what few merchant ships docked at the ports unloaded few food supplies and mostly weapons and armour.

Arin narrowed his eyes at this, but forcibly calmed himself and trotted forward, his face betraying no expression.

When they arrived before the gates to Qorenport Keep, they were stopped by the guards and a lone bear of a man who loomed like a statue, his face badly scarred on its left side and his left eye milky white. His armour was expensive plate, lovingly polished and maintained and fully functional, and by his side was a long scimitar the length of his forearm.

"Halt, honoured guests," He greeted politely, "Welcome back, Lady Belandra."

"It's good to be home, Mors," Belandra smiled, "Accompanying me are Arin Rada of House Rada, his spymistress Sainalia and fifty of his bodyguards."

Mors curtly nodded towards them, and Arin nodded back.

"My apologies, honoured guests, but you must all surrender your weapons," Mors informed, "By order of… Guerin Asthar."

Belandra bit her lip hard at the mention of that name, and Arin patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Do as he says, men," He ordered.

Though reluctant, the men willingly obeyed the order of their lord and master, thus baring themselves in preparation to enter the wolf's den. Belandra and Astin, however, never missed the gaze in Arin's eyes - like that of a wolf stalking its prey.

"Welcome to Qorenport Keep," Mors bowed, beckoning them to follow.

Unlike the rest of Qorenport, Qorenport Keep was meticulously cleaned and well-maintained over generations of Qeffar patriarchs and matriarchs, the stones free of blemish and tarnish with no visible signs of wear-and-tear and the decor bereft of a speck of dust.

This posh exterior failed to mask the air of gloominess the castle's guards and servants radiated. The sight of Belandra accompanying Arin did nothing to raise their spirits, instead eliciting a few comments beneath their breaths.

"Her Ladyship truly doesn't know how to manage her own vassals, does she…?"

"It's only a matter of time before House Qeffar falls."

"And her brother Edryck's a very passive boy, there's no hope for any of us."

The scathing comments caused Belandra to frown slightly, her expression controlled from contorting by iron will and the reassuring presence of Astin and Arin.

The moment they entered the throne room, they saw all manner of sycophants buttering up the one man who had their undivided attention: Guerin Ashtar.

A highly sophisticated and well-dressed gentleman in immaculate clothing and polished manners, he exuded elegance and sophistry in every step, his demeanour the picture of a calm and cordial person. At the age of fourty-and-five, his brown hair had yet to show strands of grey, and his olive brown eyes were a mask of politeness.

Yet he showed only surface-level deference towards the young boy on the chair, who shared Belandra's yellow eyes and angular nose, as if he lacked the importance as a Lord compared to his army of sycophants at his disposal.

Arin took one look and felt nothing but disgust for this man.

"Ah, My Lady Belandra! Welcome back!" Guerin greeted, cordial and polite as always with a smile of joy, "Might I inquire as to who are your companions, My Lady?"

Belandra adopted a well-practised mask of politeness as she replied smilingly, "This man is Young Master Arin Rada of his House, whom I said I was visiting regarding matchmaking affairs. With him are his personal servant Sainalia and several bodyguards of his personal retinue."

"Ah, so this young man is Master Arin Rada! Pardon my manners," Guerin said as he moved to greet the man in question, "A pleasure to meet you, Master Arin. Tales of your exploits have spread far and wide."

"So they have," Arin nodded, internally grimacing at Guerin's sliminess.

"So, Master Arin, what brings you here to Qorenport?" Guerin questioned.

"I came at Belandra's invitation," Arin answered, "She wished to show me the good things about Qorenport and get to know me better in a more familiar homeland."

"Oh? I beg your pardon Master Arin, but I thought you would have done that in Arsalm instead, or in any other town in Ifarahoy?" Guerin said with genuine confusion.

"True, I could do that," Arin admitted with a casual shrug, "However, I wished to see all of Tucosar [1] for myself since it is the land Belandra grew up in, and to better discuss with her plans on combating the bandits plundering supply caravans passing through Tucosar."

Guerin flinched all of a sudden and his eyes twitched behind his mask of politeness, a bead of cold sweat dripping down the side of his cheek.

"I see," Guerin said behind a forced smile, "Profitable trade benefits all who profit, and for these nefarious bandits to pilfer the hard-earned wealth of others is most troubling."

Belandra and Astin shared brief glances at each other, but said nothing in response to Arin's words as he continued to speak.

"There's something else you should know, Guerin: These bandits are suspiciously well-organised and well-equipped, and seem to know the location of every caravan travelling through Tucosar. Though I have no concrete proof, I have reason to suspect that a rival of House Qeffar is behind this mess - one of its neighbours, to be more precise."

Guerin grit his teeth behind trembling lips, and his mask seemed to falter just a little more with each and every word coming out of Arin's mouth, his eyes twitching and his lips trembling as his smile began to crack.

"As such, to help revitalise flagging trade and help Belandra's lands prosper once again, I've decided to take a survey of the lands personally with the guidance of Belandra and her people," Arin finished with a knowing, predatory smile flashed in Guerin's face, "For that reason, I would also like to invite Young Master Edryck with me on a trip [2] throughout Tucosar."

All could not hide their audible shock and disbelief at Arin's bold words; surveying the land for work was not a noble's business, but the work of his servants. No Lord or Lady should have to sully oneself with such menial work, nor should a guest simply request for said Lord or Lady to accompany them on such dreary trips.

Such were the thoughts running through their minds as they cautiously watched Arin and his demeanour for any answer to this out-of-the-blue and completely illogical request, and Guerin's answer to this.

"This is… I must admit I did not expect you to ask this, Master Arin," Guerin started, his smile replaced with bewilderment, "Might I at least know why?"

"Because a certain third party may take the chance to kidnap a certain someone holding the fort in our absence, and that certain someone might take the chance to instigate a conflict that could consume not only House Qeffar, but also all its neighbours by extension. That certain someone may also choose to exploit such chaos, eliminating his enemies one by one until he emerges the supreme victor with no one the wiser."

"Are you suggesting…?" Guerin began, his tone severely cautious.

"Someone could daringly send assassins to kill Edryck in his own room when people least expect it," Arin finished, his eyes deeply narrowed and his smile steadfast, "It's what I would do."

Guerin could now feel both rage and fear boiling within his heart, his mask straining even further and held together by a veteran's practice.

Eventually he restored his mask, and Guerin said, "If it is to the benefit of House Qeffar, I see no reason why not."

Arin patted him on the shoulder, "It certainly is, and besides…"

Arin leaned in close, whispering something into Guerin's ear, and this time his mask of calm was completely shattered, replaced with an expression of absolute fear and terror, his eyes wide and his skin pale, all the while Arin smiled calmly and menacingly towards him.

"Now then, Master Edryck, might I have the pleasure of requesting your accompaniment on this long trip of mine?" Arin calmly requested.

Sainalia and the rest of Arin's entourage could not help but snicker at the gobsmacked, fearful faces of Guerin and his sycophants, while Belandra's own entourage looked at Arin in a new light.

However, when Belandra looked at Edryck to gauge his reaction, she was shocked to see him the very portrayal of a calm chessmaster in perfect control of the situation. His eyebrows were slightly raised in surprise, but his expression betrayed nothing else. And the look in his eyes was not that of a meek, weak boy but a mature noble growing into his role as a scion of House Qeffar.

"It seems your brother is far more cunning than you realise."

And Arin's words never rang truer that moment.

IIOII

Outskirts of Qorenport

It was inside a little hunting cabin - unused for months on end and only recently renovated - where Arin, Belandra, Edryck and a handful of their companions held their secret meeting away from prying eyes. Sainalia remained behind in Qorenport, handling other matters of import and to keep an eye on Guerin's faction.

"I must admit, the rumours don't do you justice, Master Arin," Edryck mused, smiling with amusement.

"What do these rumours say?" Arin asked.

"Well, other than being a talented bureaucrat and cunning political player, they say you are a Demon wearing Human skin, deceiving the uneducated Smallfolk into believing your sweet promises and making forbidden contracts with Demons to eliminate your political rivals and hasten the growth of your house's power," Edryck flawlessly stated, keeping his eyes squarely fixed on Arin.

Arin merely shrugged, "Let them say what they want to say."

"I suspected you'd say that," Edryck shrugged, "Though if I'm being honest, I'm fairly impressed with how well you handled Guerin. I swear, that bastard loves to rattle on whenever he feels it, and surrounded by so many sycophants, I really missed having some privacy or a companion unafraid to speak his frank opinion. And by the way, I only know of three kinds of players: Straightforward, subtle and dangerous. You, my friend, are all three at the same time."

Arin raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged.

"So, might I pledge my allegiance to you, My Lord?" Edryck asked.

"Brother?" Belandra questioned, standing up in surprise and ready to intercede.

Arin stopped her with a raised hand, shaking his head. Reluctantly, Belandra relented and sat down.

"I know this is out of the blue, and I know you have no reason to trust me at this juncture," Edryck explained, "However, I am sick and tired of the status quo, and House Martell does nothing to help us out of fear of rocking the boat too much. Just goes to show that they don't really care for any of us, even though we're fellow Dornish. Even if I end up losing, what else do we have to lose?"

Edryck heaved a heavy sigh, eyes turning darker as dark memories surfaced.

"My grandfather Arthur… I could never forgive him for what he's done and what he brought upon our house," Edryck muttered, "Neither can I forgive Princess Meria; she has had ample opportunity to right this wrong, and she hasn't lifted a finger."

"She could be busy with other things, though she may also consider this whole affair less important," Belandra suggested.

Arin merely listened on while Edryck shook his head.

"I dislike it if this is what it means to be treated as unimportant," Edryck argued, his face twisting in anguish, "Even if she does not trust my House, at the very least she could have done this to preserve her image and the reputation of House Martell. Where was she when our father and mother died young, grief-stricken and penniless?"

Belandra could not argue against that.

"At least Arin Rada doesn't waste time with needless pageantry and such; he gets things done and does not care about the status quo or other useless stuff," Edryck ranted on, eyes flashing with anger, "So what if Meria denounces me for siding with heretics and rebels? So what if I'm in the wrong? Guerin has no business messing things up for my family, and Meria Martell has no right to chastise me for siding with a bunch of mavericks!"

Edryck's voice raised to a crescendo, his nose flaring and his eyes burning red.

"Edryck, calm down," Arin called out.

"How can I be calm in this kind of situation?" Edryck questioned, his voice sharp and heated.

"Breathe in and breathe out slowly, count to four," Arin suggested calmly, his voice soft and reassuring.

Edryck did as Arin asked, and with each breath he felt his anger abate a smidgen.

Count to four, inhale… Count to four, exhale…

Eventually, Edryck managed to calm down, and the first thing he did afterwards was to apologise.

"I'm sorry for my outburst," Edryck said to Arin, "I don't know what came over me."

"You bottled up all this frustration for so long, so you need an outlet. It's understandable," Arin reassured.

"Yes, you're right," Edryck nodded.

"So brother," Belandra asked, "I think it's time you explained things; Arin said that you are far more cunning than you realised, and I saw that during his earlier exchange with Guerin."

Edryck smiled devilishly at that, "I suppose the deception's over. My apologies Sister, but I needed to make sure of Arin's personality."

"Does he pass, then?" Belandra cautiously questioned.

"With flying colours," Edryck affirmed, "Now, as you probably suspect, I invited you to put Guerin on edge in court, to goad him."

"You also promised to tell us the real puppetmaster behind this whole affair," Arin reminded.

"Indeed, and I will uphold my end of the bargain."

Leaning in close, Edryck uttered his next words with severity befitting a dramatic novel.

"The ruling Patriarch of House Ardera, Falion."

[1] Tucosar - The name of the province under control of House Qeffar. With a long-established fishing industry, Tucosar is famous for its fresh seafood from salmon to swordfish, lobsters and shrimps.

[2] 'To invite one on a trip' - An idiom that entered common usage in the years since Arin's first visit to Tucosar, after the (in)famous 'Chat with Guerin' in the halls of Qorenport Keep. It means to hatch a plot with smaller, weaker players against larger, more powerful players.

A/N: While I am aware that House Martell has been seemingly portrayed as a cartoonish villain so far, most of the story up to this point has been told from the perspective of non-Martell characters. The next one will feature a Martell perspective.