A/N: Just a quick note: The terms Salty, Sandy and Stony Dornish have been changed to Greenblood, Desert and Red Mountain Dornish respectively, as the former did not enter common usage until Daeron I's conquest of Dorne 160 years from this story's canon.
Chapter IX: Disposable Pawn
14 BC
Qorenport Keep
It was in the middle of the next morning that all the officials invited by Belandra Qeffar herself were present in the courtroom. Edryck Qeffar was absent along with Belandra and the envoys from Ifarahoy, officially due to coming down with a sudden illness. Ostensibly, Guerin Asthar himself was absent for the same reason which was very unlike him - the picture of a healthy man.
Many of the gathered merchants and nobles whispered among themselves, curious about the agenda of today's court meeting and hoping to get answers; a few of the more veteran courtiers inwardly suspected something amiss.
"Do you believe there's an important announcement to make?"
"Most likely concerning the future of House Qeffar, no doubt. Maybe they finally found someone willing to enter a marriage alliance with them?"
"Why wouldn't they? House Qeffar is barely staying afloat and a marriage alliance with a wealthy and powerful house is their best option."
"Bah, as if; so long as we curry favour with the new regime, nothing will change and everything will be alright."
"Where is Lord Guerin, by the way?"
"They say he came down due to sudden illness."
"Maybe an illness born from fear; whatever Lord Arin whispered to him scared him witless."
"That is a first, I'll admit."
Eventually, Arin Rada himself emerged, his sabre sheathed at his side. However, the look in his eyes was like a wolf stalking its prey - hungry and ready to pounce. Perhaps Arin simply preferred to keep his weapons close to him?
"Master Arin!" Exclaimed one of the nobles as he came closer, "Why do you have your wea-"
Without warning, Arin unsheathed his sabre and cut down the noble, slitting his throat.
And at the top of his voice he bellowed, "Kill them all!"
Pandemonium ensued as from the shadows, troops emerged and began cutting them down, dyeing sword and dagger crimson with blood. Some tried to run for the exits, only for bowmen to fill them with arrows; some tried to crawl on the ground, severely wounded or missing a limb; some tried to fight back, drawing small stilettos of their own from folds in their clothes. Screams of pain, death and despair echoed throughout the throne room like a funeral bell tolling for the dead.
None escaped.
Within five minutes, all the invited nobles and merchants were cut down with no injuries to Arin's and House Qeffar's men.
"Good work, Mors," Said Arin, patting the burly man on his shoulder.
"I strive to uphold my duty," Mors bowed with a smile of satisfaction and liberation, "Your next orders?"
"Work with Sainalia to round up every single one of the traitors' families," Arin ordered, "Execute all males above the age of ten-and-two and send the rest to the wall. Exile the women and young girls to Essos, never to return."
"By the will of Lady Belandra and Master Edryck," Mors saluted, his smile turning vindictive.
Arin took out a cloth to wipe his sabre clean, restoring its bright polished sheen. Seeing his reflection in the blade, he smiled grimly.
IIOII
Outskirts of Qorenport
It was the dead of night, a time when most were asleep.
Mere minutes after the brutal massacre carried out in Qorenport's courtroom, the families of the culprits were apprehended and meted out brutal justice in one afternoon. Droves of wagons were seen transporting little children and women out of the town to Gods knew where, and heads quickly decorated spikes outside Qorenport Keep. A sign, displayed next to the line of spiked heads, described the names of all conspirators found guilty of plotting high treason against House Qeffar, and the sight of young boys and girls joining their adult counterparts instilled no small amount of dread.
The fact that their deaths were ordered by Belandra and Edryck Qeffar was just the icing on the cake, and from then on, any and all rumours about House Qeffar's weakness was dispelled.
Guerin Asthar, unwilling to stay any longer lest he join the condemned sycophants in death, quietly and quickly packed up his things and evacuated from the city with a handful of trusted guards under the cover of night slipping through one of checkpoints, hidden in a wagon laden with barrels and crates posing as a merchant's wagon.
Once they reached a fair distance from the city walls, one of Guerin's men knocked onto the wagon, "You can come out now, My Lord. They can't see us from here."
Heaving an audible sigh of relief, Guerin emerged from the covered wagon a happy man, wiping beads of cold sweat from his face.
"Thank the Seven we're out of that deathtrap," Guerin breathed heavily, trembling with terror, "I swear, that monster Arin will be the death of us all! If he doesn't kill us today, he'll make sure to kill us another day. Does that monster ever sleep when his enemies still live?"
"Calm down, My Lord," Said another guard, "We've managed to give them the slip, we'll do so again. Besides, we're near the place where Lord Falion said to meet up. Once we're there, we can safely escape."
"I'd gladly take a safe sanctuary any day over staying anywhere close to that demon," Guerin remarked.
It took at least ten minutes to reach the meeting place where Falion was supposed to arrive with an escort: A covered well built with bricks and wood panelling, the well itself dried up long ago.
"My Lord, Lord Falion and his escort are here," One of Guerin's men informed him.
Lord Falion Ardera of Tahor-Nai (Spring River) approached Guerin's entourage, escorted by a large group of men armed to the teeth with an assortment of weapons. Falion Ardera, an aged and withered husk of a man, his cheeks gaunt and his eyes sunken in, his head completely bald and his skin bearing the pallor of death as if all life left him long ago, a man whose eyes burned with energy and fire in stark contrast to his outward appearance.
Falion limped towards Guerin with a disarming smile, arms outstretched for a hug.
"Lord Falion…" Guerin asked cautiously, stopping outside of Falion's arm's reach, "Why have you brought so many men so heavily armed?"
"Oh, Guerin, you have always been a very sharp man," Falion started, his voice raspy and soft yet still audible, "It's truly sad, what happened to you. A noble on the rise to subsuming House Qeffar as the true master of Qorenport, only to have the tables turned on you in the blink of an eye. Oh, so sad, so sad."
"Lord Falion, while things were truly unfortunate, so long as I live I can turn the tables back on them," Guerin boasted, his back taut and his eyes narrowed, "However, I must ask again why you brought so many; surely you'd need only half of the men present for a simple escort?"
Falion heavily sighed, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, and his smile suddenly took on a sinister air.
Guerin immediately felt a chill down his spine. Motioning to his men, his party swiftly drew their weapons, prepared to fight their way to freedom.
With but a wave of the hand from Falion, archers opened fire and felled a score of Guerin's retinue. The rest were cut down in a short and bloody melee, for Guerin's men were no battle-tested warriors and lacked the equipment for a decisive engagement, wearing only their clothes and wielding only swords.
"Remove the bodies and the bloodstains," Falion ordered, his voice raspy and hoarse, "No evidence remains."
"As you command, My Lord," His men echoed.
A fair distance from the abandoned well, a lone man watched using a Myrish far-eye, seeing the carnage that just transpired. Shaking his head, he mounted his horse and departed on a swift gallop.
IIOII
Yesterday…
"You also promised to tell us the real puppet master 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."
Belandra quickly felt a shudder down her spine, breaking into a cold sweat as memories surfaced unbidden - nightmares she would prefer banished to the deepest recesses of her mind - and Astin quickly patted her back for comfort.
"Belandra?" Asked Arin, his voice soft and mellow.
"...He is a man I do not wish to meet," Belandra muttered shakily, "When I first met him, he flashed me this harsh, menacing and evil smile that terrified me to the core, as if I was an enemy to be killed or a juicy dish to be consumed."
Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead, and Belandra quickly wiped them away.
"For what reason does Falion do this?" Arin questioned Edryck, his voice hard with a steely edge.
"The death of his sons during Corentyn's Rebellion," Edryck answered, "After doing a little digging up, I learned that all of Falion's sons supported House Martell against Corentyn's rebellion and fought hard even at the cost of their lives. When his grandchildren were murdered, all evidence pointed to Oberyn Martell VII doing the deed, presumably for fear of Lord Falion gaining too much power with his string of victories, which earned much popular support among his people and the nobility."
Arin narrowed his eyes at this, as did Astin.
"And it was my House - House Qeffar under my grandfather Arthur - that killed his sons in battle, all five of them," Edryck finished, slumping as a heavy weight descended upon his shoulders.
Arin patted Edryck on the shoulder, his eyes reflecting sympathy "The sins of the past are a terrible burden, but we all have to grit our teeth and bear what comes our way. He's bearing a grudge because he needs to direct his anger somewhere; towards your House for the death of his sons; towards House Martell for the deaths of his grandchildren. In his grief and rage, he is hurting people in the process - he has to die to give you peace."
Edryck nodded solemnly, "Yes, he has to die. For that reason, I need your help."
"What do you need me to do?" Asked Arin.
"What you do best," Answered Edryck, "Do what it takes to expose Falion's wrongdoings and end House Qeffar's plight. I give you express permission to use my men under Mors for this purpose."
Arin nodded and said, "Then tomorrow, invite all of Guerin's sycophants for a court meeting. I will spring a trap upon them."
"Guerin will suspect something amiss, especially after whatever you told him earlier," Edryck stated.
"I know," Arin acknowledged, "I also know that if Falion is the kind of person I believe him to be, he will save us the trouble and get rid of Guerin for us."
"Wait, I thought you'd be the one to get rid of-oh… Oh."
"Brother?" Asked Belandra.
"You're planning to use Falion's murder of Guerin to gain a cause of war against him, aren't you?" Edryck inquired.
Silent communication passed between them as they exchanged knowing glances.
"But then, why not do the same process as before when you dealt with House Rada's neighbours?" Asked Belandra.
"Because I've ruffled too many feathers, and doing anymore will force House Martell's intervention," Arin answered.
"Master Arin is correct," Astin spoke up, "I'm no political player, but even I know that sooner or later, someone will agitate for House Martell to sanction you in some way, perhaps even order a war to cut you down to size."
"Exactly," Arin nodded, "House Martell will have to intervene regardless, so we cannot wait. What we have to do is make House Martell declare us the righteous party and give us permission to wage war on House Falion for its treachery."
"I honestly cannot trust House Martell at this point," Edryck stated, "For any reason."
"And yet for the time being, we have to give the impression we respect House Martell's authority, so that no one can do anything against us," Belandra put forth, "Isn't that what we should do, Arin?
Arin nodded in agreement.