"Needless to say, we are more than eager to give them such coin. I am more worried about Stannis Baratheon's fleet patrolling off Greenstone and Tarth. I feel like I will have to reroute some of your ships to patrol that area and protect our shipping coming to Ghost Hill and the Tor."
"Not an unwise choice, but it seems your friends have something to say…" the lady of Ghost Hill looked straight at them.
If Edric could've died from embarrassment, he would have collapsed right there.
...
What is so important that it cannot wait a couple of hours till I am done here?" Quentyn raised an eyebrow.
"You knew she was here?" Cletus asked.
"It's hard not to notice." Quentyn raised an eyebrow, with Achilles croaking as if in approval. "I dined with her, Jen, Fiora and Delilah yesterday. Lord Fowler had business with my father and brought them along."
"Quentyn." Jeyne spoke up. "I don't want to marry him."
Jeyne pointed straight at Cletus.
"To be fair, neither do I." Cletus sarcastically remarked.
"You didn't mention this yesterday." Quentyn pointed out. "Why?"
"I learned it from mother today." Jeyne replied. "And you didn't know?"
"No, I didn't." Quentyn frowned. "What exact words did Lady Jynesse use?"
"She told me there would probably be a Fowler-Yronwood match soon." She frowned. "She told me that it would be a historic event."
"We now know why the old Hawk was at the Gardens…" Lady Toland whispered to the prince, just within Edric's earshot.
"Well, you seemed very happy together the last time you two met." Quentyn crossed his arms. "Why would you not like each other now?"
"Just because I see a pretty girl does not mean I'm going to marry a Fowler."
"Just because I see a pretty boy does not mean I'm going to marry an Yronwood."
The two replied almost instantaneously.
"I'm only jesting." Quentyn smiled. "I suppose such a union is meant to rule at least one of Skyreach or Yronwood. In any case, Jeyne, you know your sister's preferences. You know you have to be the heir.
Cletus, you know your own succession laws. You know you cannot be a consort to a less powerful house.
A union between you both is impossible. I'm instead leaning towards Cletus being betrothed to Delilah."
Jeyne seemed satisfied, but Cletus doubled down.
"I'm not marrying a Fowler!" he protested.
"Shame, she's a lovely girl. Quite smart, beautiful hair and eyes, and she has many qualities I'm sure you'd love considering how much time you spend in the bedroom." Quentyn shrugged as Cletus' cheeks went red.
"Anywhow, my hands are tied. I do not have the power to cancel such a betrothal, only my father has. But I can promise to talk to him."
Cletus looked disappointed but reluctantly nodded.
"Well, Yronwood, it would seem your concerns were unfounded." Jeyne teased.
Cletus raised an eyebrow but breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now that your childish concerns are gone, please leave the grown-ups to talk." Lady Toland frowned.
The three of them made their way towards the exit, but as Edric turned his back on the table, Quentyn raised his voice.
"Not you, Lord Dayne. You stay."
Oh.
Whenever the prince called him "Lord Dayne", it meant there was either trouble brewing or serious affairs ahead.
He looked at Achilles, the tree frog having grown to the size of twice a grown man's hands put together. The frog only blinked at him and continued resting itself on a corner of the table.
"Sometimes I wonder how I'm the youngest of these three…" Quentyn whispered to lady Toland.
"I can see why." She frowned. "I fear for the future of house Yronwood and house Fowler."
"Well, it seems we should have our concerns on quite a different front." Quentyn growled. "Fucking Yronwood, trying to sneak behind my back like this…I always knew he was too ambitious for his own good."
"Don't the Fowlers and Yronwoods hate each other?" Edric asked.
Quentyn and lady Toland looked at each other, as the prince beckoned him to come closer and look at the map of Dorne laid before them.
"Lord Anders Yronwood and Lord Franklyn Fowler were two of the ten-thousand strong Dornish host at the Battle of the Trident, led by great-uncle Lewyn." Quentyn said.
"When Lewyn fell, it became lord Franklyn's host. Immediately, he was beset upon dozens of Valemen, and would've been cut down if not for Lord Anders' rescue.
In the chaos, Lord Anders had not seen the Fowler sigil Lord Franklyn bore, and saved his life."
"These two have been friends since the Rebellion." Lady Toland continued. "And although the enmity continued with lords Edgar and Ormund, ever since Lord Anders took the mantle of Bloodroyal, things have been shaping up nicely for them, since they both revel in the idea of getting revenge for their failure on the banks of the Trident. An alliance you helped create, my prince."
Quentyn coughed.
"Erm…yes." Quentyn smiled awkwardly. "I wouldn't say create, but reinforce. I leveraged their friendship to expand my influence in the area, notably to exploit the woods and mountains of Skyreach and the Prince's Pass. Wood that is now used to enrich your house, lady Toland."
"As you say, my prince." Lady Toland scoffed. "But now these two have some sort of pact, and this doesn't spell anything good for us."
"Why?" Edric asked.
Nymella Toland reached into her tunic and drew out two daggers before Edric could react, throwing them straight onto the map, where the Prince's Pass and the Boneway lied.
Edric jumped, his eyes darting between Quentyn and lady Toland, and then at Achilles, who had remained still, not moving from where he'd rested, a few inches from the tip of one of Lady Toland's blades.
Quentyn nodded.
"Because the Fowlers and the Yronwoods control the only two major land routes in and out of Dorne. Such a pact could essentially trap us in our own peninsula." Quentyn fumed.
"For generations we've been content to play them against one another, so that neither could reconcile and create a potential pact that could block both land routes into Dorne, but now…"
"Yronwood has been a sly player." Lady Toland said with a voice filled half with loathing and half with respect. "He tied himself to the Allyrions, and the Daynes of High Hermitage. An alliance with the Fowlers would make sense…"
"Not to mention he tried to go for the Qorgyles…" Quentyn sighed. "Soon enough he'll be proposing Gwyneth's hand for Ned. This ends now."
"Why not let it go through?" Edric asked.
"Because the Dornish lords would not accept it. Father wouldn't accept it. And I wouldn't accept it." Quentyn frowned. "And then we'd be pressured to give your hand to an Eastern Dornish house to stop them from controlling the whole Marches."
"What are you going to do?" Lady Toland asked slyly.
"My father will likely furiously oppose this marriage." Quentyn replied. "But I need both Fowler and Yronwood taught a lesson not to go behind my back. A proper one."
"What are you suggesting?" Edric asked.
"Yronwood has been losing influence ever since I left and he knows it. He's been trying to regain that influence substantially. That is why he is moving quite aggressively." Quentyn replied. "Yronwood was briefly the centre of Dornish attention before I brought it back to Sunspear."
The prince slowly paced around the room, Achilles taking the opportunity to jump on his shoulder once more.
"Yronwood has been the centre of medicine production, especially since the guilds there have been taught extremely early on.
This has proved to be a consistent source of wealth since the Dornish houses that could not afford to set up guilds would buy surplus from Yronwood.
Since we haven't hit sufficient capacities here at Sunspear, and I have had other priorities…" Quentyn roamed his fingers on the map. "But if I gave monetary incentive for the guilds to move to a more…suitable place. Let's say…Ghost Hill?"
Lady Toland laughed, with Achilles croaking as well.
"I can see where this is going, but what about Fowler?"
"Fowler isn't dependent on my actions, but I certainly know where to hurt him." Quentyn smirked. "I need a word with Jennelyn."
Clearly there was something Edric was missing since both Quentyn and Lady Toland were smiling from ear to ear.
"I'm going to make sure none of them dare make a move on my house again." Quentyn smirked. "I'm sorry to leave so early, but my father has requested my presence, and I need to have the arrangements concluded for the whole Fowler-Yronwood situation. Good day, Lord Dayne. Lady Toland."
Before he could leave with Quentyn, though, the red-haired lady of Ghost Hill coughed and turned to Edric, while Quentyn looked on, confused.
"Say, lord Dayne, have you met my daughter Teora?" she grinned.
Edric blushed as he could hear Quentyn's voice rise behind him.
"Lady Toland!"