The Torrentine River flows from the heart of the Red Mountains, winding southward for thousands of miles until it finally merges with the Summer Sea. Once the rushing waters meet the sea, they too calm from their turbulent course, adopting a serene stillness.
Upon the sapphire-like surface of the sea, a ship sails upstream.
Natalie stands at the bow, her violet eyes alight with curiosity and trepidation as she gazes at the faint silhouette of a distant castle.
Today, she is without her veil, her exquisite features fully visible, and her fur clothes replaced by a blue dress. Beneath the hem, her long, shapely legs gleam with a marble-like sheen in the sunlight.
Kartu, standing behind Samwell, tries to maintain a dutiful pose, ever-ready for his master's orders. However, his eyes frequently flit to the young girl's legs.
The young wildling had never seen a girl so beautiful, and he found himself utterly spellbound.
Sensing Kartu's gaze, Natalie shot him a sharp look and huffed,
"What are you staring at, you little brat?"
Kartu whipped his head away, his face flushed a deep red.
After a moment, he muttered defiantly, "I'm fourteen—I'm not a little brat!"
But Natalie had already dismissed him, propping her smooth chin on her hands as she wistfully asked,
"Do you think House Dayne will hold a ball in your honor, my lord?"
Samwell glanced at the girl beside him and smiled,
"Why, are you hoping for a ball?"
"I'm just curious."
"Even if there were a ball, it'd be for noble ladies!" Kartu couldn't help but interject.
He seemed eager to dispel any notions the girl might have about such a lofty event.
Natalie turned and shot Kartu another glare before deflating slightly.
Of course—she was only a wildling; what right did she have to dream of a noble's ball?
Samwell, however, kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching Starfall, caught up in his thoughts and unaware of the girl's disheartened expression.
His visit to House Dayne was primarily to counteract Littlefinger's attempts at stirring up conflict. Naturally, he understood that such an attempt was an open scheme—one with no real way to defuse it completely.
As Eagle's Nest grew in strength, it was bound to stir the concerns of the Dornish lords, particularly the ruling lord of Starfall.
It could even lead to war.
However, Samwell had no intention of quelling the Dornish lords' fears entirely. He only needed to buy himself time.
After securing substantial funds and supplies on his recent journey from Sunspear to the Arbor to Oldtown, his lands were now developing at breakneck speed. Just four or five more months, and his castle would be nearly complete.
By then, he would officially join the Reach's nobility, and Eagle's Nest would be part of its territory.
Should the Dornish attempt an invasion at that point, it would be a declaration of war on the Reach.
Lord Mace Tyrell would no longer be able to ignore it.
So, Samwell's primary goal at Starfall was to ensure that the acting lord, whether through diplomacy, persuasion, or misdirection, wouldn't set his sights on Eagle's Nest anytime soon.
It shouldn't be a difficult objective to achieve, considering that Starfall's acting lord was a "Sand" and not a Dayne. Likely, he lacked the authority and the motivation to rally for an offensive war.
Once the next few months passed, the Dornish would likely be reluctant to launch an attack.
Though Dornishmen excelled at defensive warfare, beyond the Red Mountains' natural defenses and the familiar desert environment, they were hardly a match for the Reach.
The Reach's resources and manpower outstripped all other kingdoms.
Once this precarious period was over, Samwell could shift his focus to building his domain, trading for profits, and slowly subduing the wildlings in the Red Mountains.
As for eventually aiding Lady Olenna's plans to invade Dorne through the Torrentine, that could be dealt with in due time.
Samwell reasoned that even if a war with Dorne were necessary, it would be best to strike at the right moment.
Perhaps once King Robert passed, or later, after the death of Eddard Stark, when King's Landing would descend into chaos, no other faction would be concerned with the reach's affairs.
Additionally, he could use this conflict to redirect the Reach's energies toward Dorne, possibly preventing the Tyrells from hastily aligning with one side during the early stages of the War of the Five Kings, as they had in the original timeline.
This way, Margaery might never marry Renly.
Still, he understood well that events would not unfold entirely as he planned.
Not even the most cunning players in the game of thrones could expect everyone to follow their script. Samwell certainly wouldn't presume otherwise.
And he had a gnawing feeling that Littlefinger's schemes were far from over.
If Petyr Baelish intended to stoke a war between the Reach and Dorne, he wouldn't stop at just this.
After all, unlike Samwell, Littlefinger didn't have foreknowledge of the impending chaos.
From his perspective, if he failed to instigate a clash between Starfall and Eagle's Nest soon, the threat of conflict would diminish once Samwell's castle was complete, making an eventual war uncertain.
For this reason, Samwell suspected that the sly "Littlefinger" had further plans in motion.
What they were, he could not yet discern…
"My lord Caesar." The ship's captain called from the helm, breaking Samwell's reverie. "We're about to dock!"
—
The ship passed beneath the towering statue of the Titan of Braavos, sailing through the crowded canals before finally docking at the Checkerboard Quay.
Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish disembarked and, without pausing to enjoy the bustling market, made his way to the Isle of the Gods.
The Royal Treasurer of the Iron Throne was evidently well-acquainted with the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea, navigating his way unerringly to a particular temple with no windows.
Its grand wooden doors stood tall and intricately carved—one door crafted from weirwood, pale as bone, the other of ebony, dark as the abyss.
Together, the doors bore the carved image of a crescent moon.
This was the temple of the Many-Faced God—the House of Black and White.
Baelish knocked twice and then stepped back.
After a short moment, the doors opened, and a young man in a black-and-white robe stepped out, his gaze empty, his expression cold and detached, as though nothing could rouse his interest.
Baelish didn't even glance at the man's face. He knew the House of Black and White's Faceless Men could wear any face; one could never tell which one was real.
The Faceless Men served the Many-Faced God, also known as the God of Death.
As the finest assassins, they believed death to be a merciful release. As long as one could pay the price, they would take any life as an offering to their god.
"All men must die." Baelish gave a small bow.
"All men must serve," the Faceless Man replied. "What does the man seek?"
Baelish handed over a large sack of gold coins, saying,
"I seek to offer two lives to the Many-Faced God."
The Faceless Man accepted the bag, his tone indifferent as he replied,
"The God requires their names."
Baelish's lips curled into a slight smile as he replied,
"Edric Dayne, Allyria Dayne."
Yet, the Faceless Man shook his head. "It is not enough."
"Not enough?" Baelish's expression darkened, gesturing to the bag of coins. "Why don't you count again? This could pay an entire mercenary company. If it weren't for the need for discretion, I wouldn't have sought you out."
"No. Sacrificing to the god requires an offering of one's most cherished possessions. A pauper's penny would suffice over a rich man's gold. For you, this payment covers only one name."
Annoyed, Baelish retorted, "This is nearly all my fortune! Isn't that devotion enough?"
The Faceless Man shook his head again, "But gold is not what you cherish most."
Baelish hesitated, realizing that the man likely knew his identity.
But before he could protest, the Faceless Man continued, "Then trade life for life."
"What do you mean?"
"Only life can be exchanged for death," the Faceless Man explained reverently. "Help one person live, and we will take one life for you."
"Who do you need to be saved? Where are they?"
"Jaqen H'ghar, held in the black cells of the Red Keep."
The black cells of the Red Keep were the royal dungeons, holding notorious criminals.
Yet the name the Faceless Man gave him was unfamiliar.
He must not have been anyone important.
Relieved, Baelish nodded, "Agreed. But I want those two gone quickly. You'd best act fast!"
"Very well. Within a month, the god will claim those two names."
(End of Chapter)