In Oldtown.
Under the never-dimming beacon light of the Hightower, an extensive fleet sailed downstream on the Honeywine River, entering the harbor.
Each vessel bore the red-gold fox emblem encircled by a wreath of blue hyacinths—the heraldry of House Florent, lords of Brightwater Keep.
The fleet docked briefly to resupply and refresh their water stores before continuing their journey into the Summer Sea.
"Lord Alester, all supplies and fresh water are replenished. However..."
"However what?" Alester Florent's gaze remained fixed on Whispering Sound, barely registering the servant's voice.
As the eldest son of Lord Alester Florent, Alester had been sent by his father to lead their forces to support Eagle Point.
And though Alester approved of his father's decision—for after all, Samwell was his nephew, and the offer made by Lord Randyll had been too promising to ignore—he was uneasy. The Dornish were known as formidable opponents, and Princess Arianne herself was reportedly leading the charge, while House Tyrell seemed content to watch from the sidelines.
Could the combined forces of Brightwater and Horn Hill truly overcome Dorne's forces?
Burdened by this doubt, Alester had been troubled for most of the journey.
Noting his lord's mood, the servant lowered his voice and added, "There is also a mercenary company asking to join us."
"They wish to ride for free? Deny them."
"No, my lord. They say they are willing to fight for us—and for only a single gold dragon."
At this, Alester finally turned, frowning. "Which company?"
"The Oak Shield Company."
"The Oak Shield?" Alester was taken aback, expecting it to be some desperate band of beggars, but the Oak Shield Company had a decent reputation in the area, and its strength numbered close to seven hundred men.
How could a mercenary company of that size agree to fight for only one gold dragon?
"Are you certain they asked for only a single gold dragon?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And do they know our destination?"
"I believe so. When I mentioned our journey, their captain replied he wished to help us kill Dornishmen."
"Where is he? Bring me to him."
"Yes, my lord."
As he followed the servant, Alester's mind began to piece together a theory.
Mercenaries cared only for coin; they would not risk their lives for a mere dragon. The only plausible explanation was that someone else had already paid their fee.
And there was only one possible benefactor—the Hightower, lords of Oldtown.
The Hightowers were linked to the Florents by marriage. Leyton Hightower, Lord of Oldtown, had taken Alester's sister, Rhea Florent, as his wife.
Yes, despite the significant age difference, and yes, as his fourth wife.
The Hightowers were certainly zealous about marriage alliances.
But even for kin, would they truly hire an entire mercenary company on the Florents' behalf? The cost of such a gesture would not be trivial.
When Alester arrived and saw a familiar face among the mercenaries, his suspicions were confirmed.
"Sister!" Alester quickened his pace, spreading his arms as he greeted Rhea with an embrace.
"Hmph, brother! You come to Oldtown and don't even bother to pay me a visit?" Rhea pouted, pretending to scold him.
"My deepest apologies, Lady Rhea," Alester said, playfully formal, though her light slap on his arm made him laugh. His tone grew serious as he explained, "I did want to see you, but I am here on urgent business."
"What business?"
Before Alester could respond, another figure approached.
"Lord Baelor."
"Lord Alester," Baelor Hightower greeted with a smile. "I heard House Florent was marching to war, so I took the liberty of arranging some help for you."
"I can't thank the Hightowers enough for such generosity."
Baelor waved away the gratitude with a smile. "Think nothing of it. Consider this gift as not only to House Florent but also to Ser Caesar."
Alester's brows rose. "I didn't realize House Hightower was so close to Ser Caesar."
"Indeed. He is one of our best business partners. You've likely heard of our new brandy, the one produced on Eagle's Nest? It has been a success—until the war interrupted its supply. So, for the sake of ensuring a steady supply, House Hightower is more than willing to lend a hand."
"In that case, I'll accept this gift with thanks."
"No thanks needed. Illuminating the path ahead has always been House Hightower's duty."
With that, Baelor stepped back to allow the siblings a few more moments together.
Aware of the urgency of his mission, Alester did not linger. After saying a few parting words to his sister, he waved his farewell and returned to the fleet, now joined by their new allies.
The ships soon raised anchor, setting off once more.
---
At Highgarden.
Lord Mullen Marten strode into the study, calling out loudly:
"Father, you wanted to see me?"
Lord Mullen's father, Viscount Marten, sat behind his desk, holding a letter with a furrowed brow. Seeing his son enter, he gathered his thoughts and gave his instructions:
"Take two hundred soldiers and make for Eagle's Point."
"Eagle point?" Mullen's son paused, recalling something. "I heard that Ser Caesar on Eagle Point has gone to war with Dorne. You don't mean to send me to aid him, do you?"
"Yes," Viscount Marten confirmed, though with a note of reluctance in his voice. "We loaned that boy over two hundred craftsmen; we can't afford to lose them to Dornish blades. And he still owes us a considerable sum."
"Ah." Mullen scratched his head but seemed hesitant. "But, Father, isn't two hundred soldiers a bit too few?"
His father rolled his eyes. "Would you rather bring all of House Marten's men to die for that boy?"
"I'm just worried that we won't have enough to win..."
"Don't worry." Viscount Marten raised the letter in his hand with a reassuring smile. "Vidor has written that Lord Tarly's forces have already reached Eagle Point, and Lord Randyll himself has joined the fight. With him, we shouldn't have much to fear."
Relieved, Mullen nodded.
The name Randyll Tarly commanded respect across the Reach.
"Understood, Father. I'll gather the men and depart right away."
"Very well." Viscount Marten nodded but added a final word of caution, "If the battle turns, don't play the hero. Focus on getting our craftsmen out safely."
"Yes, Father. I understand."
---
At the Arbor.
A fleet of ten warships entered the Redwyne Strait, making their way southeast.
Standing at the bow of the lead ship, Hobber leaned close to his brother, whispering:
"Horas, the Dornish don't even have a significant navy. Why bring so many ships? We should have more soldiers instead."
Horas shook his head. "This was Father's decision. He made it clear—we're not there to die for Samwell. Our sole mission is to secure that distilling technique and ensure it doesn't fall into Dornish hands. If the battle goes south, we'll focus on evacuating Eagle Point's brewers and retreating."
"Got it." Hobber nodded, reassured.
After a pause, he turned to his brother again. "Horas, do you think Samwell can actually defeat the Dornish?"
Horace snorted in disdain. "Defeat whom? That fool couldn't even land a hit in a jousting match. How does he expect to win a war?"
---
At Sunhouse.
Brandon Cuy clapped his brother Eamon on the shoulder at the docks.
"I'll leave this to you."
"I understand. That lad still owes us a fair sum; we can't let him get himself killed by the Dornish."
"Good. And feel free to test him—tell him if he's willing to marry my daughter Alys, I'll send even more men to aid him."
"I understand. And if he still acts stubborn and suffers a defeat, I'll just drag him back home as a husband for our niece."
"Absolutely not!" Brandon shot back. "Without Eagle's Point, he wouldn't be fit to marry Alys. My daughter isn't desperate for a husband."
(End of Chapter)