( Gulian )
The heir to Sandstone took a moment to rest in Sunspear's gardens, slowly looking out of the battlements into the city below.
Ever since Quentyn had been confirmed as heir and Prince Oberyn's position been given to him, a wind of change had struck the city in full force. The prince's efforts had led to all of Dorne being effectively distributed his miracle powder, and Sunspear had slowly seen new infrastructure spring out of the ground.
While Yronwood was the capital of the dornish change before, it seemed the winds had blown back in favor of House Martell as Sunspear slowly placed itself back at the centre of everyone's attention.
Gulian rose and made his way towards the prince's solar, hurrying down Sunspear's long, protected, halls.
Ever since Quentyn's takeover as acting regent of Sunspear, the centre of attention shifted from Arianne back to him.
Not that he had cared that much.
Quentyn kept to the group that entered the gates of Sunspear a few weeks ago, and they were all the better for it. However, their close relationship to the prince meant that they were also extremely solicited.
Not that he would care that much. He found it quite amusing, actually.
And although Quentyn generally ignored the rabble going on around him, he did occasionally bring in people towards his inner circle.
Like the younger Toland girl, Teora. Gulian didn't particularly like her, due to her spouting nonsense at every hour, but the prince kept her close, seemingly interested in the stories she had to tell.
He wondered if Quentyn's relationship with the older Toland sister, Valena, had something to do with it. After all, Quentyn wasn't really discreet with who he was bedding, not like anyone expected him to, anyways.
It wasn't a secret that ever since Quentyn became Sunspear's regent, marriage proposals had been flung around here and there. Gerris was the first to secure a betrothal, to Elinor Dayne, a cousin of the main branch, but a Dayne all the same, quite the honor for a house such as the Drinkwaters.
He had also been betrothed, while Cletus and Archibald certainly would have been given offers. The prince's hand was of course the big prize, but like his sister before him, that prize was gatekept by his father.
"On your way to visit the prince?" a voice called out.
Speaking of gatekeeping.
"How did you know?" Gulian answered.
"You're early." The Sand snake replied, tying her braid behind her back. "Quent told me you wouldn't come until later."
"I like to be early."
"As you say." She smirked. "Good day to you, Qorgyle."
Gulian sighed and shook his head.
Nymeria Sand was a pain in the ass to deal with. He could swear she clung to Quentyn like a vulture on its prey. Didn't she have better things to do with her time?
Gulian already knew the answer to that. Mayhaps having her close to him drew her away from his sister.
He didn't have time to dwell on it as he knocked twice on the door.
A voice quickly ushered him to come in.
Gulian opened and closed the door to the solar in an instant, looking over the room.
It was large, larger than any he had ever seen. But seven hells, it was a mess.
Books lay around tables and shelves, scrolls and missives were laid on the ground everywhere, and even the prince's desk seemed to be overflowing with everything from papers to daggers.
Of course in the centre of the desk stood Achilles, who despite his eyes being closed as he rested beneath a stack of papers, seemed to follow his every move.
What struck him the most, though, was the large map of the known world hanging right over the desk, where Quentyn eyed him intently.
"Congratulations, Gulian." Quentyn smiled, his scar clearly visible on the right side of his face. "For your betrothal."
"It's the end of freedom for me." Gulian replied with a chuckle. "Thank you, Quentyn."
"I hope Alyana Vaith makes you a happy man." Quentyn brought forward two glasses from a pile of paper under the desk, bringing a flagon of wine from one of the shelves, leaving Gulian in disbelief as to how Quentyn knew where they were located. "This called for a celebration."
"I thought you didn't drink."
"If I can't drink for an occasion such as this, when can I?" he asked, pouring them both a glass.
Gulian smiled, and they both drank.
The taste of wine filled his mouth, the liquid running down his sore throat and into his belly.
"That's one damn fine wine." Gulian replied.
"Uncle Oberyn left it to me when he left to gods only know where." Quentyn nodded. "It's one of the finest Dornish reds this kingdom has to offer."
"Well, your uncle has good taste." Gulian quickly sprung back to his feet. "How have you been managing the whole princely responsibilities thing?"
"Better than I expected." The prince replied. "It's been hard managing the whole medical front of things, the construction of the new Dornish fleet, and the different requests coming in from the kingdom. Tiring, but manageable."
"No marriage proposals?"
"Loads." He chuckled. "All of them go through my father, and you can imagine his answer to them."
Gulian nodded. Prince Doran was apparently taking the same road as the one he took for his daughter and not hurrying him into any betrothal. Which was smart. Lord Yronwood was probably doing the same for his son Cletus.
This was not a luxury House Qorgyle and Drinkwater had, though.
"Did you find time to get out of the castle?", Gulian asked, trying to keep his mind off of these things.
"A few days ago." He rose. "I went swimming on the beach to keep my mind off of things. It turns out the sun was hitting a bit too much."
Quentyn took his shirt off, and showed him his back. Indeed, while it was covered in small scars, cuts and bruises, the most apparent thing was that half of the surface of his back, and elbows, was bright red.
"Never underestimate the power of the sun." Quentyn continued, putting his shirt back on. "It should peel off soon enough, but it burns whenever I step into the sun's path."
"Let me guess, you've been working on something to stop it from happening?"
"Correct." Quentyn smiled widely. "You'd think we'd have thought of a solution by now, considering Dorne has been hammered by the sun's rays for thousands of years. But no. We're working on something, but it is going slowly."
"That explains the new recruits you've got in recently."
"A few maesters and other healers from the Riverlands, Vale and Crownlands, nothing much." Quentyn replied. "But still a big help in future matters, I'm sure."
Gulian nodded. He'd seen the fast pace that Quentyn's different endeavours had gone at, and wasn't about to contest these now.
"One thing is for sure, though." The prince continued, rising again. "We'll eventually going to have to break the guilds' power. I need them now to ensure we produce at high rates, but curbing their power later on will be on my list of priorities. Speaking of which…"
He turned to the map of the known world hanging over his desk.
"Do you know the reason for my endeavours in the realms of perfumes, oils, glasses and other luxury items?"
"Gold?" Gulian asked, confused.
"Yes, but not only." He pointed to the map, specifically, to the Free Cities. "See, Dorne has been a close trading partner to the Free Cities, even before the exile of the Rhoynar.
As such, our trade links are numerous, and they have been an essential part of our trade, and one of the many reasons for Dorne's prosperity and status as the third richest kingdom.
However, many of the items we import from the Free Cities come from less than reliable sources. It turns out we've been secretly financing slavery for thousands of years."
Gulian nearly spat out his wine.
"What?"
"We import more from the Free Cities than any other kingdom. As such, the ties of every Dornish family to the Free Cities is great, and these include merchant endeavours.
These mean privileged links between slave owners and the continent. How do you think the Wyl of Wyl got the idea of selling his prized Oakheart ladies into slavery?
He had to have had pre-established trade and personal links with slavers from beyond the Narrow Sea. You don't just waddle down to the nearest beach and sell off people to the first passing ship."
"By enhancing our production of luxury products, you mean to cut ties with the Free Cities?"
"Impossible." Quentyn shook his head. "Our ties to the Free Cities are too numerous, and too extensive to count. It would take decades, generations, to completely rid ourselves of the ties we have to slavery across the Narrow Sea, but this is certainly is a start.
With the endeavours I have been investing in, I mean to at least cut down a few of the ties we hold with the slavers beyond the sea. And if the Free Cities start to increase raids onto our shores as a way to reel us back into their trade routes, well now we'll have a fleet to deal with."
"I see…" Gulian trailed off, looking at the map before him as he skimmed over the names written over it.
The prince's plan had some merit to it, but as he said, it would likely take a few generations for the Dornish ties to slavery to completely disappear.
"What use do you have of the Toland girl, then?" Gulian asked, curious. "Is she a part of your plans to counter slavery or cure new diseases? Or did lady Valena's red hair seduce you to the point you gave her a favor?"
"Neither." Quentyn replied. "Teora is here because she might prove herself useful to me. Neither Lady Nymella nor Valena had any bearing in why I brought her here."
"I don't see how useful she'll be." Gulian raised his eyebrows as he finished his cup of wine. "Are you sure lady Valena hasn't gone to your head?"
Quentyn rolled his eyes.
"Of course, I'm sure."
"I'm only asking because you've been closer to your family than before." He continued. "Physically close. To your cousins especially."
Quentyn's face turned slightly red at that.
"My cousins are good at three things." he replied, slightly embarrassed. "Seducing men, picking a fight they shouldn't, and giving me headaches."
"That explains the snake having wrapped itself around you."
Quentyn laughed.
"You have the wrong idea." His friend shook his head. "My sister has one grave weakness, and that is handsome men, and it could very well be her end. I don't intend to let a beautiful woman be my demise, let alone my own blood."
"Snakes are venomous, Quentyn, you told us so much before we came here." He countered, remembering the talk about possible plans that his sister would undertake to separate their group.
"I agree." Quentyn nodded, patting Achilles' head. "Which is why I know my limits. When I was younger, in Yronwood, I loved swimming between the beaches and the Isle of Turtles. There was a small buoy marking the location of a reef, far out.
I tried swimming towards it, and succeeded. However, I realized during the way back to the beach that I'd never make it. I panicked, and nearly drowned. Thankfully, a fishing boat brought me back to shore before I'd had the chance to go under the waves.
If not for that boat, I'd have lost my life out there. I was foolish, reckless even, because I did not know my own limits.
Now every time that I make a decision, I want to know where my limits stand, as to never put myself in such danger again."
"Why does this matter?"
"Because I know where lust has to stop dictating my actions." He shrugged. "Our relationship is purely physical, and we do not interact much out of that."
"That's a lie. The older one stays around you so much I swear I've seen her more often around you than anyone else."
"I know." Quentyn acknowledged. "But Nym has ties to Volantis through her mother, Daelena Maegyr, who is the daughter of Runeryo Maegyr, one of the heads of the Elephant faction in Volantis. As such, any information she can give me is quite important."
Gulian made to speak, but Quentyn cut him off.
"And besides, we're close because I trust the fact that she isn't close whatsoever to my sister, especially after the events that transpired at the tourney.
I don't completely trust her, that would be a great mistake on my part, but I do trust her more than any of my kin, and that includes the younger ones that know naught of the machinations that occur at the Sun court."
He replied tensely, ending the conversation abruptly. "In any case, I asked you to come here because I have a mission for you. A mission that must stay a complete secret."
Gulian suddenly stood more at attention. A secret mission? Now that was interesting.
"What kind of mission?" he asked, pouring himself another glass of Dornish red and bringing it to his lips.
"I need you to get rid of two people for me." Quentyn said simply.
Gulian nearly spat out his wine.
"You need me to do what now?"
"Wasn't I clear enough?"
"You were very clear, that is what worries me."
"Listen, Gulian." Quentyn approached him. "I am coming to you because you are one of my friends and I trust you. There is no one else I would trust more in the whole world to carry this out. You have extensive knowledge of poisons, and you would know how to take someone out silently and without raising eyebrows.
And know that this will be done without my father's knowledge or permission, so you might also be committing treason."
"It depends." Gulian sighed. "If the targets are young, suspicions will inevitably fall…and I cannot do that to a fellow dornishman."
"The targets are neither dornish, nor young." Quentyn smiled slightly. "Quite the opposite."
"Who?" Gulian asked. "And why?"
"You don't need to know why. Just know that it is some form of…insurance." The prince stood, his eyes calculating as ever. "But before I tell you anything else, I need your word that you shall not tell a soul about this."
"You have my word." Gulian didn't hesitate for a second. "Who are they?"
"Very well." Quentyn nodded. "I wish for Walder and Emmon Frey's lives to be cut short by a few years."
"Really?" Gulian looked surprised. "I doubt the old fuckers will last a few more years."
"If they last even six months it will be too much." Quentyn replied to his face, before whispering. "And too late."
"Why care about the affairs of the Riverlanders anyhow?" he wondered. "This is…"
"Gulian, please." Quentyn's voice sounded slightly desperate, but he paid it no mind. "This is of paramount importance. I need you to trust me, as I trust you."
"I trust you with my life."
"Then I need you to get rid of them, and make it look like natural causes." Quentyn continued. "Can you do this for me?"
Gulian thought long and hard at this. He hadn't taken anyone's life without a blade in his hands. And they were not talking about bandits roaming around the deserts, but lords with wealth, status and some amount of prestige, and without any form of support of the ruling prince of Dorne. This was not going to be easy.
Yet, everything Quentyn had done until then had paid dividends tenfold. There was something he was missing that the prince refused to give him, once again. Another mystery to add to the list.
He looked at Achilles, who croaked, as if reading into his thoughts and agreeing with what he was thinking. He trusted Quentyn, that was all that mattered.
After a few seconds, he finally nodded.
"Aye, I can get it done."