Bab 427: Chapter 428: Return to Blackwater
The gentle, warm sunlight of the early morning shone upon the shimmering surface of the Narrow Sea.
At the harbor of Sunspear, a fleet bearing the twin-headed eagle banners slowly docked.
This was the Stormlands fleet, traveling south from Storm's End, stopping at Sunspear to resupply with fresh water and provisions.
Lucas Dayne, standing on the deck, immediately spotted the new Duchess of Dorne among the welcoming crowd.
She was dressed in a pristine white floor-length gown, adorned with an embroidered white wide-brimmed hat and delicate white gloves. Her beauty was breathtaking, now further accentuated by an air of regal authority.
Following Dorne's submission to the Storm King, Nathalie, the new Duchess, had not returned to her ancestral seat at Starfall, choosing instead to remain in Sunspear.
Though Sunspear had been demoted to the Martell family's fiefdom and no longer held its former prestige, to most Dornish, Starfall could never rival Sunspear in importance.
Additionally, Sunspear, located at the mouth of the Greenblood River, served as the central hub for trade and communication with the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. Its strategic significance was unmatched.
For these reasons, Samwell had suggested that Nathalie remain in Sunspear, at least until the political landscape of Dorne—and indeed all of Westeros—stabilized.
As for the Martell's, they dared not protest the Duchess's occupation of their former palace. Defeated, they were content simply to retain their titles as Earls and keep Sunspear as their seat of power.
Once the ship was moored, Lucas disembarked swiftly, striding over to the Duchess and greeting her with a bow.
"Your journey must have been arduous, Lucas," Nathalie greeted him warmly, her smile genuine and radiant. As a fellow member of House Dayne and an early supporter of the Storm King, Lucas had earned her respect and goodwill. "I've prepared a grand banquet to welcome you."
"You're too kind, Your Grace," Lucas responded courteously. "However, we cannot stay long. Our mission requires us to reach the Sunset Sea as quickly as possible. Once the fleet has replenished its supplies, we must set sail again."
"So urgent? At least stay for a simple lunch," Nathalie offered, her tone sincere.
Lucas hesitated but eventually nodded. "A brief lunch should be manageable. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace."
Nathalie smiled faintly and turned to head back toward the city.
Falling half a step behind, Lucas followed, asking as they walked, "Your Grace, have you received any recent news from the Reach?"
"Sunspear has indeed received a few ravens," Nathalie replied crisply. "Two weeks ago, we heard that the Ironborn had taken The Arbor. Fires raged across the island, and merchant ships have been too frightened to dock there."
"And aside from The Arbor?" Lucas's voice tightened as he thought of his future domain being ravaged by the Ironborn. Though his heart ached, he forced himself to remain composed. "Have other territories in the Reach suffered raids?"
"We've received no reports of additional attacks," Nathalie replied.
Lucas nodded silently, his expression grave.
The group returned to the Martell palace and shared a modest lunch.
As the fleet was still resupplying, Lucas retired to a guest room for a short rest.
When he awoke, however, the weather outside had changed dramatically.
The once-clear blue skies were now shrouded in dark clouds. A fierce wind howled across the Narrow Sea, rattling the palace windows incessantly. The storm's approach was unmistakable.
After a moment of hesitation, Lucas sought out the Duchess to take his leave.
"A storm is brewing, and you still plan to depart now?" Nathalie asked, her tone laced with concern.
"Yes, Your Grace. The mission is urgent. I hope you'll forgive us," Lucas said, his resolve unwavering.
Nathalie sighed but did not press further. "Very well. Take care on your journey."
"You as well, Your Grace," Lucas replied.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a deafening clap of thunder echoed outside. Torrential rain followed, enveloping the city in an instant.
Servants rushed to close the windows, but the fierce wind found its way through even the tiniest cracks, causing the chandelier candles to flicker wildly. Streaks of lightning illuminated the palace's stained-glass windows, casting eerie reflections inside, while the relentless thunder seemed determined to shake the city to its foundations.
Striding into the hallway, Lucas saw the full fury of the storm. Sunspear appeared to be at the very heart of the tempest, with bolts of lightning splitting the skies and thunder rolling like an unending drumbeat.
"This weather will make it impossible to sail," Lucas muttered bitterly.
Nathalie, standing nearby, appeared pale but composed. She reassured him, "Don't worry. The Ironborn won't venture out in weather like this. You'll still have time to reach the Reach and protect its shores."
Lucas remained silent. His thoughts were not on the Reach but on Blackwater Bay.
His plan had been to quickly deal with the Ironborn threat and return to the Blackwater to escort the southern army across the river. But now, it seemed another delay was inevitable.
The storm raged for three full days.
When the skies finally cleared, Lucas wasted no time. He immediately ordered the fleet to prepare for departure.
But just as they were about to set sail, his lieutenant arrived with a soaking wet man in tow.
"Sir, this man claims to be Ser Desmond Redwyne of House Redwyne. He says he has urgent information for you."
"Desmond?" Lucas took a closer look at the bedraggled man, who appeared to have barely survived a shipwreck. "What news do you bring?"
Ser Desmond, leaning heavily on a soldier for support, rasped, "Lucas, don't sail for The Arbor! The Ironborn are no longer there!"
"Oh? Where are they, then?" Lucas's expression remained calm, though his heart sank.
"Where else? They've gone to Blackwater Bay!"
The words hit Lucas like a hammer blow. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the exhausted knight as if weighing the credibility of his claim.
"Why would I lie to you?" Desmond's hoarse voice was edged with desperation. "The Ironborn are traitorous scum! They nearly wiped out House Redwyne! My hatred for them is as vast as the Summer Sea. Do you really think I'd deceive you on their behalf?"
Lucas gave a curt nod, then turned to his lieutenant.
"Cancel the current plan. Inform the fleet—we're returning to Blackwater Bay!"
"Yes, my lord!"
Desmond let out a hollow laugh, his voice filled with bitterness and relief.
"Good! Good! Kill Euron Greyjoy for me! Kill every last Ironborn! Wipe them out!"
Lucas gestured for the guards to escort Desmond away.
While he couldn't fully trust the man's information, Lucas decided it was better to err on the side of caution.
The Reach could survive a few raids by the Ironborn, but ensuring the southern army could cross the Blackwater unopposed was far more critical.
Lucas knew the stakes. Between defending the Reach and advancing on King's Landing, the latter was far more important.
(End of Chapter)
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