Chapter 292: The Return

After the storm, the Dornish Sea returned to its usual calm. The sapphire-blue waters shimmered under the sunlight, like a radiant ruby scattered with ripples.

Anders Yronwood, Head of Yronwood, climbed aboard the Purple Grapes and met Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor.

"Lord Paxter, there's no need for you to waste time here. Caesar isn't dead, and he has been crowned Storm King with the support of the Stormlands nobility."

"Storm King?" Paxter froze for a moment, then his face darkened. "What exactly happened yesterday?"

Anders recounted everything that had taken place during the coronation ceremony.

Paxter listened in silence for a long time.

"So, your blockade of Bloodstone Isle is meaningless now," Anders continued. "Caesar has a dragon and can leave at any time. Most of the Stormlands nobles have already been evacuated, leaving only the Dornish and Reach nobles. Of course, Lady Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell have also been sent away. You have no bargaining chips left.

"Caesar has made it clear: if you attack, he'll kill all the Dornish and Reach nobles on the island and then fly away on his dragon."

Seeing a flash of malice in Paxter's eyes, Anders quickly added:

"Yes, you could force Caesar to commit murder, angering the major Dornish houses. But don't expect the Arbor to have Dornish allies ever again.

"After the assassination attempt, Caesar has already severed ties with Highgarden. With the Stormlands' support and assistance from the Reach's Horse Faction, your Stag Faction is clearly at a disadvantage. Do you really want to make a new enemy?

"On the contrary, if you let us go, I can ensure that Dorne becomes an ally of the Stag's. This way, the balance of power will be restored, and neither the Horse Faction nor Caesar will dare to act recklessly."

Paxter fell into deep thought, then asked after a moment, "You guarantee this? Is Prince Doran still alive?"

"Prince Doran is indeed alive," Anders replied. "But I doubt Caesar will let him return. Even if Doran makes it back to Sunspear alive, do you think he can still command the loyalty of the Dornish nobility?

"In recent years, under Doran's leadership, Dorne has suffered defeat after defeat. And now, he's acted on his own to orchestrate this scheme. I think his illness has dulled his once-sharp mind. He's no longer fit to lead Dorne."

Seeing Anders openly reveal his ambitions, Paxter mused:

"I recall you have a son. Let him marry my daughter, Desmera, and I'll withdraw my fleet."

"You mean Cletus?" Anders' eyes flickered as he shook his head. "Apologies, Lord Paxter, but he's already betrothed. However, my younger daughter, Gwynesse, is both clever and beautiful. Why not let her marry your son, Horas?"

Paxter nodded. "Agreed."

With the deal struck, Anders smiled and returned to Bloodstone Isle.

Hearing the news, Samwell mounted his white dragon and personally confirmed from the air that the Arbor Fleet had indeed withdrawn. Only then did he signal Selwyn Tarth to call for ships from Tarth Island to pick up the remaining nobles.

"Your Grace," Anders approached Samwell during the wait and said, "I've heard you have three intelligent and beautiful sisters who are yet to be married."

Samwell gave him a thoughtful look and nodded. "Yes, I do."

"My son, Cletus, is still unmarried. Might he have the honor of marrying one of them?" Anders asked earnestly.

"Have your son visit Horn Hill," Samwell replied without refusing. "My father must approve such matters."

"Of course." Anders smiled broadly.

Seeing that Anders was leaning toward an alliance, Samwell entertained a few more thoughts and said:

"Lord Anders, I'll need you to act as an envoy to Sunspear. Inform the Martell's that I am willing to exchange the Dornish lords for the Stormlands army currently held in Sunspear."

Anders hesitated. "When you say Dornish lords… does that include Prince Doran?"

Samwell fixed him with a long look before replying:

"If not, do you have a way to make Sunspear agree to the exchange?"

Anders chuckled dryly. "I can try. Currently, the House Martell is led by that fool Arianne. She's much easier to deal with than Doran."

"Good," Samwell said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to part with Prince Doran so quickly. I was hoping to bring him to Storm's End for a long chat about religion, art, and Cyvasse."

Anders laughed heartily. "Then you'd best keep him longer. Prince Doran is a great conversationalist."

As they spoke, ships bearing the sigil of the yellow sun and white crescent moon appeared on the horizon.

While the Dornish nobles were being loaded onto the ships, Selwyn Tarth approached Samwell and said:

"Your Grace, you should be wary of Anders Yronwood. He's not entirely trustworthy."

"I know," Samwell replied. "With the Martells weakened, I need Yronwood's ambition to muddy the waters in Dorne. But in the future, who rules Dorne is still undecided."

As he spoke, Samwell thought of the long-unseen Nathalie Dayne.

However, her current influence and power weren't enough to take control of Dorne. For now, it was better to let the Yronwoods serve as the vanguard against the Martells.

Once everyone was aboard the ships, Samwell decided to personally escort Prince Doran on his dragon for safety.

Lying awkwardly on the dragon's back, Prince Doran struggled to face Samwell. Against the rushing wind, he shouted, "Caesar! Perhaps we can talk!"

Samwell stared ahead and ignored him.

"Do you know your greatest problem right now?" Doran continued. "You have too many enemies and too few allies!"

Samwell finally turned, his smile icy.

"Doran, I no longer believe a word you say."

"Trusting no one is as foolish as trusting someone completely—" Doran hadn't finished when Samwell kicked him off the dragon.

"Ahhh—"

Doran plummeted through the air, his heart filled with despair and terror.

Just as he thought he was about to crash into the sea, the white dragon dove and caught him in its talons.

Though spared from death, Doran was thoroughly shaken.

Back at Storm's End, Samwell dismounted and said to the trembling prince:

"Thank you, Doran, for teaching me an important lesson. Trust is dangerous—it can turn into a venomous snake and bite you at any moment."

Doran, already weak, could barely catch his breath. Struggling, he rasped, "Caesar… listen to me… you still have a fatal flaw…"

But Samwell didn't care to listen and strode away.

At the castle hall entrance, Samwell saw his brother, Dickon Tarly.

"Brother!" Dickon greeted him with a bright smile and a wave. "You're back!"

"You've recovered?" Samwell asked, studying his brother's eyes. He saw no trace of the fiery red-gold glow.

"I'm fine," Dickon said, flexing his arms. "I've resumed training. Soon, I'll be ready to fight alongside you again."

"Good." Samwell hesitated before asking, "How's your memory? Have you recalled anything you forgot?"

Dickon shook his head. "No change."

Samwell paused, then smiled. "Don't worry. It'll come back."

"Got it!" Dickon nodded firmly. "By the way, Father sent a letter yesterday. He wants me to return to Horn Hill once I'm fully recovered. There's also one for you."

He handed Samwell an unopened letter.

"Alright. You should go home. You've been away too long."

"Will you visit me?"

"Of course. And I may be heading to the Reach soon anyway."

"Great!" Dickon grinned and left for the training yard.

Samwell watched his brother's retreating figure in silence.

(End of Chapter)