The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 22: Temper

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The end of the year 277 A.D.

Ark of the Sands Castle, Sun Spear

This is the second time I've been to Sunspear, but I'm still struck by this incredible contrast. Westeros, the Seven Great Kingdoms, the land of knights and their ladies, honor and dignity, castles and tournaments, and then bang bang - one of the kingdoms in its architecture, dress and customs not too different from ancient Persia, on Earth. Of course it has its own peculiarities, like the rank of lords, the presence of knighthood and belief in the Seven, but they are not too noticeable, very organically blending into the local color.

My ships arrived in Sunspear Harbor this morning, and at noon we received an invitation to a reception from the main residence of the Martells. Only I, with a two-meter-long mahogany case hanging on my back, and Oberyn, with his daughters Nymeria and Obara, went. The Dornish prince was so happy to be home that he almost jumped up and down the familiar streets and passageways, to my and Obara's laughter.

The Martell Palace itself reminded me of a chimera made by two different architects. And if at the beginning, when our small company crossed the main gate, it seemed winding, with ornate patterns and decorations chiseled from stone and yellow marble, then on the approach to the donjon I began to see more and more perfectly straight corridors, sharp-angled embrasures and old even square buildings, peculiar more to Andalian architecture than to Rojnar. The mix of cultures from across Nymeria is still visible to the naked eye.

Oberyn led us to the famous Tower of the Sun, neighboring its twin sister, the Tower of the Spear, which is the reason why the Sun Spear got its current name in ancient times. Crowned with a huge dome of crystal and gilded with white gold, up close it resembled a small white sun, which by some miracle was so close to the earth.

We followed the younger Dornish prince up a few more aisles and, after being checked for weapons (one of the dubolomites, with an axe as big as mine, even tried to take the case away, but was verbally rebuffed with a few Valyrian curses), we entered the giant solarium.

Illuminated in all the colors of the rainbow by the tower dome, and furnished with exquisite furniture of the most expensive woods (I recognized Quokhor golden pine, Zasten white cedar, and Volantian fruitwood) and marble, Doran Martell's office, like any Grandlord's, suggested to its visitors that the owner of this place was a powerful man.

And that feeling quickly evaporated as Oberyn took a few steps inside the room.

«Brother! - A black-haired, frail girl, who appeared to be Elia Martell, Oberyn's adored older sister and the only princess of Dorne, flew into the room with a loud shout. - You're back at last!

«And back for the long haul, sister! - The Dornean said as cheerfully as he could and whirled the girl around the room, ignoring the four other people in the solarium.

The oldest of them was a thirty-year-old thin man, dressed in a simple white robe, with sun embroidery, and a white arafat, completely covering his head, leaving open only his face with kind brown eyes, a straight nose and a small stubble, which his daughter rubbed with pleasure. Arianna Martell, so far the only child in her family, dressed in a beautiful orange dress, was lounging on her father's lap - Prince Doran Martell. I can already tell you that the future princess and ruler of Dorne will grow into an incredible beauty. Just like her mother.

Lady Mellario, who was born in Norvos and met her husband there, sat in a wicker chair next to the prince and studied our "merry" company with attentive eyes (especially me and Nymeria and Obara, who hid behind my legs out of embarrassment). I understand her, though - she was only fifteen when she became First Lady of Dorne. That was two years ago and because of that she hasn't caught Oberyn and doesn't know how to behave with him (and his children, with the exception of Teena playing in pillows in one corner of the solarium).

«Ahem, Oberyn, why don't you say hello to the others? - Finally said the Grandlord of Dorne, bringing his younger brother back to the mortal earth.

He quickly released his sister from his embrace, who swayed a little, sat down in another chair, and approached Doran, making a joking bow, and then to Mellario, gallantly kissing the outstretched hand.

«Elder brother, niece. - A nod toward the little girl, who opened her eyes and looked at the unfamiliar guest with scrutiny. - Sister-in-law. - Nod, smoothly flowing into a joking waist bow. - The source of eternally good mood, the second prince of Dornish, the Red Serpent and just a magnificent man in his prime (look, he is already stealing my phrases) returned home. - And straightened up and laughed at the top of his voice, supported by the ringing laughter of Princess Elia and the smiles on the faces of the Grandlord couple.

«Why don't you introduce us your companions? - The prince continued the conversation, seeing his brother reach for a jug of wine standing on a small stand, while his daughter got off her lap and ran to Obara and Nymeria, still hiding behind my legs.

«Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten? - Distracted from draining his first (but not last) glass of wine, Oberyn turned around and pointed in my direction. I could see that he was in a very good mood - I had long ago noticed his habit of turning into a clown when he was happy. - Allow me to introduce my close friend and comrade, my brother-in-law, who saved my life many times, the free trader Felix, nicknamed "Bastard of Fortune".

Oberyn wasn't lying about that nickname - because of the rumors spread by my sailors and rivals that my squadron always had a fair wind and that all dangers were avoided, in the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay I was nicknamed "Bastard of Fortune" (or lucky bastard, in the more obscene version). All I had to do was bow slightly, paying my respects to my hosts, and quietly push the girls who had been there for a while quietly out from behind me.

«And these are my older daughters. - Coming closer to them and pushing them toward the center of the solarium, Oberyn said. - Obara is the bigger and more sassy one, and Nymeria is the smaller and prettier one. She's like me. Yes?

Seeing that their father was behaving as usual, they relaxed more or less, and, following little Arianna, went to Tiena, so as not to interfere with the adults' conversation.

«I'm very grateful to you, Felix, for looking after my misbehaving little brother. - Doran said at last, ignoring Oberyn's outraged expression as he slumped back in his chair and poured himself a second glass of wine. - I hope he hasn't caused you any trouble?

«Of course not, Prince Doran. Prince Oberyn behaved as befits a true... - I was about to begin my traditional praise of aristocrats to their relatives (there were a couple of times when I had to transport the children of Great Lords or Volantian aristocrats) when I was interrupted by a raised hand.

«There is only my family here and no one else. - Said Martell, smiling kindly. - Let's have no affectations. You have spent three years or more successfully looking after my misbehaving brother, whose antics are still remembered throughout Dorne. You're an honored guest and a friend of the family, if nothing else.

«So what did our Captain Pink Flamingo do? I'd like to hear it from you personally. - Princess Elia's unexpected question was accompanied by a cough from Oberyn, who choked on his wine. After coughing, he quickly looked around the solarium and, without a trace of surprise on the faces of those present, looked at me with undisguised resentment.

«Did you really think I didn't answer to Prince Doran for all your antics? - I looked at him in surprise. - If it weren't for his patronage and timely help, we'd have been nailed in Quarth for your rampage in Volantis three years ago. So he knows about all your adventures over the years.

Somehow blushing and then turning pale, Oberyn looked around furtively and seeing the confirmation in his brother's eyes, he only sighed doomfully and slumped back in his chair.

«He knows about the drinking with the gladiators of Meereen, doesn't he? - He asked me hopefully as his sister and Mellario began to listen. I guess Doran hadn't told me much about his youngest's adventures.

«He does.

«And about my raid on the Isle of Women?

«Also.

«The Dothraki?

«The time you insulted that Khal while sailing on the Rhoyne, which then led to an unplanned raid on Seloris? He knows.

«Lannisport?

«You mean the time you drunkenly decided to piss off the city wall and hit a delegation of local Lannisters? He knows.

«And the incident in Yunkai?

«The one where you accidentally burned down a brothel or the one with Jurhazzo Yunzak, from whose house you stole half his wine supply because he insulted you?

«Both.

«He knows. - At this point, Oberyn clutched his head, seeing the eyes his own sister and sister-in-law were looking at him with. A mixture of admiration and slight squeamishness.

«What about that incident in Uptown?

«You mean the time in Norvos when you decided to find out why Prince Doran liked the local women and broke into the house of a noble family and slept with one of the daughters of the local aristocracy? - As my monologue progressed, Mellario and Doran's eyes gradually widened, and I could barely keep from laughing out loud. - No, I didn't tell you about that incident.

The laughter that followed, mine, the children's, and Elia's, matched Oberyn's brother's wife's, who jumped up to ask where the house was and what the girl's name was. According to the Dornish, Mellario had an older sister in her native Norvos, whom her parents wanted to marry off soon. So she was worried that everything would go to hell if Oberyn got into the wrong house.

Then, when the whole company had migrated to one of the many small reception halls, having "lost" the children along the way, and had a hearty lunch, at Doran's request, I began the story of Oberyn's life over the years. All events and details can't be described in letters, but a personal story gives a better idea of events.

We finished in the late afternoon, when Lady Mellario and Princess Elia had gone about their business, leaving the three of us alone (not counting the man with the axe who followed the Grandlord of Dorne like a shadow). Only then did the conversation begin in earnest.

«I am very grateful for your help with my brother. - Doran said, folding his arms and looking at me carefully. - And every help should be rewarded. I won't beat around the bush and ask the question - what do you want, Felix?

That's the final part of the plan. Don't let it go to waste.

«You already know Prince Doran. - I answered, trying the most relaxed pose. - I've hinted at it several times in my letters, and you don't look like a foolish man who can't take a hint.

«The lordship and lands of the Red Valley. - Stretching his words, the Prince of Dorne replied.

«That is correct. - The Red Valley is the territory of the Red Mountains that was formed almost thirty-five years ago, after the Great Earthquake. It's a beautiful place with mild natural conditions, a convenient harbor, and perfect for building a good city and castle, if it weren't for one thing. Complete lack of water. Hard stone rocks make it impossible to dig wells, and the nearest water sources are far away in the mountains. This greatly hinders farming - the soil depletes too quickly. Because of this, there is only a small fishing settlement of two hundred men and a small garrison of Martells, who took the land for themselves so as not to give the Ironwoods and the Fowlers any more reasons to tear each other's throats out.

«I won't ask why this place was chosen, for I've heard of your business acumen, and I realize you'll make a profit, but there's a problem. - Doran said thoughtfully, judging by the look in his eyes he was thinking on his own topics.

«And what is it? - I asked, already guessing the answer.

«A reason, my friend. The simplest reason. - Grandlord said admonishingly, pointing a finger upward. - Personally, I wouldn't mind granting you the title of Lord Vassal and the lands of the Red Valley. I'm sure in a few years it will be a prosperous land, whose taxes will flow steadily into the Martell treasury, and your friendship with Oberyn will guarantee loyalty to you and your descendants. But I can't just grant you a title. All my vassals, who have become increasingly difficult to keep in check in recent years, will resent the entry of a peddler into their ranks, no offense, and may think I've become a second Titots Lannister who can easily sit on their necks. I need an official reason to shut most of them up, and the rest can be dealt with. Do you have such a "reason"?

Well, here we come to the most important part. My work as a "babysitter" for the younger brother of the ruler of Dorne should not be publicized, as it would damage the reputation of the ruling house. And there is little such service to bestow a lordship. What will decide everything now is whether I have well understood the mentality of the local lords and the importance of status things for them.

«Yes, Prince Doran. - Saying that, I placed the brought case on the table and opened it, revealing the inner contents.

«Waaaaaayyyyyy... - Almost immediately a delighted sigh was heard from Oberyn, while Doran was not allowed to react so emotionally by his upbringing. But even the naked eye could see that he was shocked. He'd thought I'd offer a lot of money for the title of lord, a title not very valued among the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms, and then he'd impose wild restrictions and conditions on my use of the land. But he didn't expect me to do THAT. - Is that what I think it is?

«Yes. A weapon made of Valyrian steel. - I replied, my eyes widening with admiration. It was the one I'd been going to the I-T auction houses, where, according to the books I'd found in the Citadel, most of the steel on the market in Valyrian times had gone, and where it was much easier to get than in Westeros or the Free Cities. It was for this that I traveled to Quokhor, where the local smiths forged two of the four ingots I purchased into this beautiful spear, resting in a mahogany case. - The Spear of the Blood Sun. Forged from three pounds of Valyrian steel in Quohora, changing its color and turning it blood red. It was six and a half feet long, with a ten inch point, perfectly balanced, and the shaft was made from the processed heartwood of ironwood, a tree that grows exclusively in the North and is as strong as weapon steel.

Oberyn, as if mesmerized, began to run his fingers over the patterns and blade of the point, unable to believe that his house, for the first time in its history, owned a weapon made of Valyrian steel. And I understand his delight. I used to think Valyrian steel was just a fad that the local lords used to indulge their ego, but when Blood Sun almost playfully pierced through half a centimeter of hardened steel, everything fell into place. Anyone wielding such a weapon on the battlefield became almost invincible. It could be said that for him, everyone else was fighting in shirtsleeves and rotten sticks that could easily be broken at the knee, and the only danger for him were the same "chosen ones".

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«Ahem. - The first to come to his senses was Doran, who knows how to keep his cool and has no such passion for spears as Oberyn, who has fallen into the astral for a long time. - Your reason is sufficient. If it's no secret, where did you get it and how much did it cost you?

«I bought the ingots in I-Ti for forty thousand gold dragons and had them forged to order in Quokhora for four thousand. - I answered, holding nothing back. Doran would have figured it out on his own anyway, after he'd asked his younger brother more about it later. And so I added another point of credibility to my own, and again I gave Martell a little shock. Tywin Lannister has been looking for a Valyrian steel blade for his family for years, offering half a million gold dragons for it, and now some merchant has gotten it for only forty-five thousand. Although the figure should be doubled - the sword would have taken twice as much metal.

«Well, that's reason enough to give you the title of Lord Vassal. - Doran finally said, smiling and nodding to some thought of his own. - I will begin preparing all the documents today and notify the other vassals. I will ask you to stay in Sunspear for a few weeks. Until the beginning of next year, I think. We'll need to design a coat of arms and a motto, and then send messengers to the Citadel and Red Castle. In the meantime, you can stay at the castle and the servants will show you out.

«Thank you. - I replied, inwardly rejoicing like a child. Finally, I am Lord, and it doesn't matter that it's still only in words - Grandlord Dorne's word is law here and can be trusted as the law of hospitality. Almost leaving the room, I heard myself being called and, turning around, looked at the composition of two Martells, one of whom was almost lovingly holding a spear to his chest and the other was pouring wine for himself.

«What have you decided to name your clan? - Doran asked me, making some notes on the paper.

It was an important question, but one that had long since been decided. I had come up with the name of my clan long ago, and I wasn't going to change it.

«Temper. Clan Temper. Tempered by the fire of the sun.

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