chapter 192 part 1
Chapter 192: Of the Same Blood and Fire
At the Dragonstone docks, surging waves relentlessly pounded the seawall, sending up sheets of spray.
Glynn Cleber said teasingly, "Ser, cheer up. That furrowed brow of yours is enough to make a man uneasy."
Davos Seaworth forced a slight smile. "Forgive me, I have not yet learned to remain impassive."
Glyn smiled and shook his head.
Davos hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "Lord Glyn, the Lord Stannis I know has always made wise decisions. I hope you will make your choice soon."
"Ser Davos, we are friends..." Glyn's brown eyes shifted slightly as he continued, "To be honest with you, I feel that Lord Stannis is more interested in that prophecy of the Holy Fire."
He pointed to the banner of the flaming red heart fluttering over the docks. The wind blowing in from the sea created flawless ripples on its surface.
"When I saw this from my ship, I already understood Lord Stannis's resolve."
Davos stared at the red banner for a while, his thoughts drifting back to when he was made a Knight.
Back then, Stannis, with only a small garrison, had stubbornly held the castle for nearly a year under the heavy siege of the combined forces of House Tyrell and House Redwyne. Even the sea route had been blockaded by the Redwyne fleet from The Arbor. The horses in Storm's End had long been eaten, the cats and dogs were all but cooked, and the defenders were left with only tree roots and rats to eat.
On a dark and windy night, under the cover of darkness, he had risked passage through the Redwyne fleet and the treacherous reefs of Shipbreaker Bay. His small boat had black sails, a black hull, and was painted black as pitch. The hold was filled with onions and salted fish. Though it wasn't much... it was enough for the garrison to hold on until Eddard Stark arrived with reinforcements, lifting the siege of Storm's End.
After the war, Lord Stannis had granted him fertile lands in the Stormlands, a small keep, and the station of a Knight... while also saving him the trouble of needing armor for the fingertips of his left hand.
...
Davos sighed. "I was useless. I couldn't convince the lords of the Stormlands to support Lord Stannis. They prefer the well-spoken Lord Renly."
Glyn turned his head to look at Davos. "They will ultimately choose the final victor, Ser."
A look of helplessness crossed Davos's face. "Obviously, not many people are willing to believe that Lord Stannis can sit the Iron Throne right now."
Glyn looked again at the banner of the flaming red heart and murmured, "Ser Davos, are you trying to tell me that Lord Stannis has been forced to make some difficult choices?"
Glyn turned to Davos and continued, "You must know Storm's End very well, don't you?"
Davos nodded slightly.
Glyn began, "As the songs tell it, Durran, the first Storm King, won the love of the beautiful Elenei, who was the daughter of the sea god and the wind goddess.
"On their wedding night, Elenei gave her maidenhead to a mortal man, and from then on, she had to endure the mortal cycle of birth, age, sickness, and death.
"Her parents were overcome with grief at their daughter's decision. They summoned fierce winds and giant waves, unleashing their fury upon Durran's fortress.
"That night, his friends, brothers, and wedding guests were all swept away, either smashed against the castle walls or drowned in the raging sea. Only Durran, protected by Elenei, remained unharmed."
Davos's eyes trembled. He understood the meaning behind Glyn's tale: no matter the initial vow, everything has a price.
Davos gathered his thoughts. He revered Stannis and believed his predicament was only temporary. The great Stannis would eventually sit the Iron Throne; his loyalty had never wavered.
Davos's voice was friendly, but his gaze was resolute. "Lord Glyn, it still stands tall."
Glyn reached out and patted the Onion Knight's arm. "Ser Davos, I look forward to your good news."
Leaving this ambiguous remark, Glyn turned on his heel and strode up the wooden plank connecting to the *Mermaid*.
...
As the *Mermaid* slowly pulled away from the harbor, Glyn stood on the stern deck, gazing at the dragon-shaped fortress of Dragonstone. He was thinking... of dragonglass mines... the Others... Melisandre... and dragons.
...
Toward dusk, the *Mermaid* docked at Mermaid Port. The reigning Lord Glyn, accompanied by his Steward Hershel, immediately began his inspection.
As the face that the Cleber Territory presented to the outside world, Glyn's investment of Golden Dragons in Mermaid Port, while nowhere near his military expenditures, had never ceased.
Mermaid Port was predominantly white. The streets were clean and wide, flanked by lush, green trees. The buildings along the road were elegantly arranged, with shops and residences standing in neat, orderly rows.
Under the strict laws of the Lord of House Cleber, Mermaid Port was not only safe but also very clean, a rare sight in Westeros.
But... because of the royal fleet's blockade of Blackwater Bay under Stannis, there were almost no merchants from King's Landing to be seen, making Mermaid Port much quieter than before.
...
In the twilight glow, the sea sparkled, reflecting the golden light and complementing the white harbor, creating a beautiful painting.
Hershel said, exasperated, "My lord, if not for the timely arrival of a great leather merchant from Lys, the goods we had prepared for the merchants of King's Landing would have become food for rats."
He then added excitedly, "The furs that Roselle Steward purchased from White Harbor have also been reserved by the Lysene merchant. Once the *Black Pearl* returns from The North... no, I'll find a way to contact Roselle directly and have the *Black Pearl* sail straight to Lys."
Under Stannis's command, not a single ship could pass through Blackwater Bay to the river docks of King's Landing, nor could any Merchant Ship from the capital leave port. This included the merchants of Dragonstone... he was impartial, very just.
Glyn pulled on the reins, turning his horse. "Well done, Hershel."
...
...
Essos, in the city-state of Viserys.
In the magister's study, the petite Daenerys Targaryen sat upright, while Jorah Mormont and others stood before her.
Daenerys's silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like waves. A worried look clouded her small face. "We don't have enough Golden Dragons, do we?"
Ser Jorah looked at the silver-haired princess and said, "Princess Daenerys, His Grace Viserys is also demanding a high prize for the tournament. His demands will only grow; we cannot satisfy him."
After a pause, Daenerys spoke, "Aren't the city's merchants happy for my brother to hold a tournament on his name day... Do you think they might support us?"
"Unless you command your soldiers to hold blades to their throats..."
With that, Ser Jorah snorted coldly and continued, "That kind of Westerosi tournament is a novelty here. It can attract a crowd, so the merchants just want to make a fortune. It's not out of the love and respect His Grace Viserys imagines."
He hesitated, then added, "I think their true target is you, Your Highness."
Although she had told herself never to yield to her brother easily again, some time ago he had approached her and promised to stop drinking. He had even shown rare concern for her well-being. Daenerys had been both happy and moved.
So, she had agreed to Viserys's request to hold a celebration on his name day. The result was not the warmth between siblings that Daenerys had imagined, but an endless stream of new demands from her brother, such as holding a Westeros-style tournament on that day.