On the deck of The Queen of The Arbor, the sailors stopped their work, watching the rowboat sailing back from Dragonstone.
When Hobber Redwyne stepped onto the gangplank, his face lacked the spirited glow of a victor, showing only grief and solemnity.
His dark green cloak hung heavily in the sea breeze, and his armor was stained with dust.
This was something he had deliberately smeared on to create the appearance of having been through a fierce battle.
Behind him followed Corleone, hands bound behind his back and eyes blindfolded, as well as two grim-faced Redwyne soldiers.
Lord Paxter Redwyne walked down from the command deck; his deep-set eyes swept over his son first, then landed on the prisoner. His pace was slow and steady, as if every step silently emphasized his authority.
"Father." Hobber stopped at an appropriate distance and performed a standard but stiff bow.
"Where is Desmond?" Paxter went straight to the point, bluntly raising his question. Two had gone, two had returned, but the person who returned was not the one expected.
This was truly hard to understand.
Hearing this, Hobber suddenly raised his head, his eyes displaying a perfectly measured look of grief and indignation: "Uncle Desmond... he was executed by Stannis!"
"What!"
"How could this happen!"
As soon as these words were spoken, a chorus of stifled gasps echoed across the deck.
Sailors and officers exchanged shocked glances; it seemed no one had expected such an outcome.
If Desmond was executed, did that mean the negotiations had failed?
But if the negotiations had failed, what was the deal with this prisoner who had been brought back?
Amidst the exclamations, only Paxter's expression remained unchanged. He simply stared sharply at his second son, saying in a low voice: "Explain."
Hearing this, Hobber took a deep breath, wearing an expression he had rehearsed countless times under Corleone's guidance, and recounted: "Father, from the very beginning of the negotiations, Stannis showed extreme stubbornness. He insisted he was the only legitimate king and demanded that the Redwyne fleet immediately lift the siege and swear fealty to him."
"Uncle Desmond argued on the basis of reason, pointing out that His Majesty Joffrey had already been crowned by the High Septon and recognized by the Small Council."
This rhetoric was very much in character for both Stannis and Desmond, so Paxter nodded without raising any objections.
Seeing this, the tension in Hobber's heart subsided slightly. His voice gradually rose as he dramatically performed: "But Stannis wouldn't listen!"
"It is said that after that Red Priestess died, he became even more insane. He called Uncle Desmond a lackey of the traitors and ordered his guards to seize him."
"I tried to stop them, but they were too numerous... They... they actually, right in front of me, used an axe to chop off Uncle Desmond's head!"
At this point, Hobber's voice choked up; he lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.
His micro-expressions were spot on, even surprising Corleone, who was standing to the side. Did this guy have a natural talent for acting, or was it that he had taught him well?
Perhaps if he ever returned to his previous world, he could make a living running an acting workshop, even if he no longer practiced medicine?
"Uncle Desmond's head was stuck on the main gate of Dragonstone."
Under the indignant expressions of the knights, Hobber added with a hoarse voice: "Stannis said... to let all traitors see their fate."
Paxter remained silent for a long time.
The sea breeze whistled through the rigging, as if wailing for the dead.
"And then?"
After who knows how long, the old lord finally spoke: "How did you survive? And you brought back... a prisoner?"
Hobber raised his head, wiped away non-existent tears from the corner of his eyes, and put on an exaggerated expression of determination: "I did not forget my mission, Father!"
"After Uncle Desmond died, I was not consumed by rage. I told Stannis that killing an envoy would only make the rage of House Redwyne burn brighter. Therefore, I proposed a new plan."
"I said that the Redwyne fleet was not besieging Dragonstone to destroy House Baratheon, but to carry out the King's orders."
"But if Stannis were willing to renounce his claim to the throne, return to Storm's End to inherit the lordship, and swear fealty to His Majesty Joffrey, then this war could end with dignity."
As he spoke, Hobber took a step forward, his tone becoming more assertive: "I told him that continued resistance would only lead to the extinction of the Baratheon bloodline!"
"But if he chose to compromise, he could at least preserve his rule over the The Stormlands and save his family's legacy!"
"Stannis hesitated for a long time, but he knew he had no choice. Dragonstone's food supplies were running low, and there was no hope of reinforcements. In the end, he agreed, on the condition that he be given three days to prepare, and then he would open the gates and surrender."
The logic was clever. Paxter nodded slightly, clearly deep in thought.
"So... Desmond is dead." After who knows how long, the old lord finally spoke slowly: "But you completed your mission, and you also brought back... who is this person?"
He lifted his chin, pointing at Corleone.
"Al Capone, a mercenary from across the Narrow Sea."
With so many ears around, Hobber quickly answered loudly, then frantically signaled his father: "He is the man Lord Tywin ordered us to get, you know who."
Hearing this, Paxter's pupils constricted slightly.
"Is it that one?"
"Yes!"
Hobber nodded excitedly, then quickly apologized: "Sorry, Father, I have failed your trust; I was unable to protect Uncle Desmond."
"But at least... I completed the task you gave me."
Listening to his explanation, Paxter stared at his son for a long time. The gaze was extremely cold, making a chill run down Hobber's back, but he forced himself to remain calm.
"You did well, Hobber," Paxter finally said. "Stronger than I imagined."
This was rare praise, but Hobber could not detect much warmth in it.
"Lock the prisoner in the brig," Paxter ordered the guards. "Guard him strictly. Without my orders, no one is to approach."
"Yes, My Lord!"
When Corleone was being led away, he struggled for a moment, making a muffled sound of protest in his throat, but was quickly dragged away.
Only after everything was arranged did Paxter turn to Hobber: "Come to my cabin. We need to talk in detail."
Inside the captain's cabin, Paxter did not sit down immediately. He stood before the porthole, back to Hobber, looking out at the darkening sea.
The silhouette of Dragonstone in the twilight looked like a sleeping behemoth.
"Desmond served me for forty years." The old lord spoke suddenly, his voice low: "From before I was even a lord, he was my most loyal knight. He fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, suppressed the Greyjoy Rebellion... I never expected he would die in such a small-scale siege battle."
Hearing this, Hobber stood behind his father, palms sweating, fearing he might see through him, and quickly explained: "I am very sorry, Father. If I had been more vigilant..."
"It is not your fault." Paxter did not delve deeper, but turned around, his face wearing the indifferent expression Hobber was familiar with: "Negotiations are inherently full of risk, and Desmond knew that."
"He expressed his loyalty to the family."
As he spoke, he walked to the liquor cabinet, poured two cups of Arbor Gold, and handed one to Hobber, which left Hobber feeling somewhat flattered.
Usually, only his brother could receive such treatment from their father.
"Will Stannis really surrender?" Ignoring his son's thoughts, Paxter sipped his wine and asked.
"He will." Hobber took the wine glass but did not drink: "He has no other choice, and the terms I promised are dignified enough. Lord of Storm's End, ruler of the The Stormlands—this is far better than going to the Wall to take the black or dying on Dragonstone."
Hearing this, Paxter nodded, but there was still doubt in his eyes. He walked to the table, his fingers tapping the surface unconsciously: "You must understand, Hobber, this matter concerns not only the reputation of House Redwyne but also your brother's life."
Here it comes. Hearing his father mention his brother, Hobber's heart sank abruptly.
"Horas is at the Red Keep," Paxter continued: "Nominally serving the King, but in reality, he is a hostage. Everyone is very clear about this. If we go against his will..."
He did not finish, but the meaning was clear.
Hobber gripped the wine glass and argued: "But we have already reached an agreement! And Corleone..."
"Corleone is important, but perhaps not enough." Paxter interrupted him, finally revealing his true thoughts: "Tywin Lannister wants absolute obedience."
"If we make an agreement with Stannis on our own, even with Corleone brought back, it might be seen as disobedience."
At this point, the old lord turned around, gazing directly at Hobber: "So we need a more sufficient reason, a more sufficient... sacrifice!"
His gaze was incomparably cold, making Hobber feel a chill. He swallowed and asked: "What do you mean?"
Paxter did not answer directly, but walked up to him, his thin form casting a long shadow in the candlelight: "I mean, perhaps we need to reconsider the entire plan."
"Perhaps Stannis's surrender should not be accepted. We can continue to besiege Dragonstone, starve his troops to death inside, and eliminate the threat once and for all!"
"But I have already promised Stannis!" Hobber almost blurted out, but he held back. Looking into his father's eyes, he suddenly understood.
His father did not care about promises, did not care about honor, and did not even care about the achievements of his second son.
The only two things he cared about were whether Lord Tywin was satisfied, and whether his eldest son, Horas, was safe.
"Sometimes sacrifice is necessary." Seeing his son silent, Paxter said coldly, "And, if Horas gets into trouble because of our disobedience..."
He did not continue, but Hobber understood the unspoken words: compared to the achievements of his second son, Hobber, the safety of his eldest son, Horas, was more important.
Damn it... He and Horas were twins, separated by only a few minutes coming into this world, but because of those few short minutes, their fates were worlds apart.
One would become the Lord of The Arbor, the future of House Redwyne.
The other would always be the "second son," the spare, the one who could be sacrificed.
"Father..." Hobber took a sip of wine, trying to keep his voice steady: "But if Stannis surrenders according to the original plan, Corleone is captured, and the war ends with dignity, wouldn't that be better?"
Paxter shook his head: "Too idealistic, Hobber."
"Politics is not chess, where you can take multiple pieces at once. Politics is about choices, and we must choose the safest path."
He patted Hobber's shoulder. The gesture should have been comforting, but Hobber only felt cold: "You did well, bringing back Corleone is already a great achievement. Let me handle the rest."
"I will ensure Horas's safety and ensure that House Redwyne will not be harmed by this matter."
Watching his father's back as he walked back to the table, at that moment, all of Hobber's fantasies, all of his expectations, and all of his longing for fatherly love were completely extinguished.
For twenty-five years, he had lived in his brother's shadow.
No matter how hard he worked, no matter how excellent he was, in his father's eyes, he would always be just "the second son, Hobber."
And Horas, that Horas who attended banquets in King's Landing and spent his days carousing among the nobles, was the future of the family.
Now, his father was even willing to deny all his efforts and tear up the agreement he had reached just for Horas's safety.
He recalled what Corleone had said in the main hall of Dragonstone: "Unless... you become the eldest son, you will not be useful to us."
That crazy and dark thought continued to take root and sprout rapidly in Hobber's heart.
"I understand, Father," Hobber finally said, his voice terrifyingly calm: "I will do as you wish."
Paxter nodded with satisfaction: "Very good!"
"Tomorrow we will interrogate Corleone, extract all his value, and then make the final decision."
"Yes."
AI Model: gemini-3.0-flash
The next morning, when Corleone was brought to the captain's cabin, he looked even more wretched than he had the day before.
His hands were locked in iron chains, and there were new bruises on his face, suggesting he had suffered quite a bit.
Paxter dismissed everyone, leaving only himself and Horas Redwyne.
Corleone stood in the center of the cabin with his head bowed, like a trapped beast with its claws and teeth removed.
.
"Al Capone." Paxter's voice echoed in the cabin: "Or should I say... Vito Corleone?"
Hearing this, Corleone slowly raised his head.
His eyes were bloodshot, but there was still an unyielding spark deep in his gaze: "Call me whatever you like, Lord Earl. To a man about to die, a name is not important."
"A man about to die?" Paxter raised an eyebrow: "Who said you were going to die?"
Corleone froze for a moment, a flicker of hope flashing in his eyes. That expression of grasping at a straw in despair was performed just perfectly.
"Duke Tywin wants you dead," Paxter continued. "That is a fact, but there are many ways to die. There is a painful death, and there is a death that is not so painful."
"There is a death that is worthless, and there is a death that can be exchanged for something."
These vague words caused Corleone's confused body to lean forward slightly: "What do you mean?"
Paxter leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced over his stomach in a negotiating posture: "I heard you accumulated quite a fortune in Flea Bottom."
"Gold, jewelry, and goods obtained through special channels. If you can provide the location of these riches, perhaps I can let you die more quickly."
"Even, if the value you provide is great enough, perhaps I can consider other possibilities."
Heh, so he's after my money.
Corleone laughed inwardly, but his eyes remained fixed on Paxter, seemingly assessing the truth of the offer.
Then he shook his head and spoke in a dejected voice: "You want me to believe that the Earl of House Redwyne would betray Duke Tywin's orders for money?"
"It is not betrayal; it is weighing options."
Paxter was not annoyed, correcting him calmly: "Duke Tywin wants you dead; that is a necessity."
"But how you die, at what time you die, and what you can provide before you die—these are things I can decide."
He paused and added: "Furthermore, if the wealth you provide is sufficient, even your family and friends might receive better treatment."
After these words were spoken, Corleone remained silent for a long time.
Horas Redwyne stood to the side, his heart pounding wildly.
"I have three secret vaults."
Corleone finally spoke, his voice very low, as if every word was draining his life: "In King's Landing, only I know the locations."
Paxter's eyes lit up: "Go on."
An hour later, three detailed maps were completed.
Corleone slumped in his chair, his face pale, as if all his strength had been drained.
"Now," he said hoarsely, "will you keep your promise?"
Paxter picked up the maps and examined them carefully.
There was no expression on his face, but Horas saw his father's hands trembling slightly—a sign of excitement.
"What did I promise?"
Hearing Corleone's question, a cunning smile appeared on Paxter's face, and then he raised his voice: "Guards, take him away!"
Upon hearing this, Corleone's eyes were instantly filled with the anger and despair of betrayal, his curses echoing through the corridor.
"You untrustworthy dog! Your soul will fall into the seven levels of hell and burn to death in the fires!"
.
Bang!
The cabin door closed.
Paxter sat back in his chair and let out a long sigh of relief. He stroked the parchment scrolls, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Do you see, Horas?" he said. "This is the game of thrones. Even from a man about to die, the last bit of value can be squeezed out."
Horas nodded woodenly and flattered: "Father is wise."
After looking at the parchment for a long time, Paxter's smile suddenly faded a bit. He looked up at Horas, his gaze becoming complex: "With the locations of this wealth, we will have more chips."
"Most importantly, Horas will be safer in King's Landing."
Here we go again.
Horas... Horas, it's always Horas!
Hobber felt a cold rage burning in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm: "Yes, Father."
"My brother's safety is most important."
Paxter didn't seem to notice the strangeness in his son's tone, completely immersed in his own calculations: "So tomorrow, I will send a team of reliable men to King's Landing to find these vaults according to the maps."
"At the same time, I will deal with Corleone cleanly and then report to Duke Tywin."
As he spoke, he looked at Hobber with a rare warmth in his eyes: "You did very well this time, Hobber."
"Bringing back Corleone and facilitating this deal, you have proven your value. Once Horas is safely back at The Arbor, I will carefully consider your position in the family."
Hobber almost sneered aloud.
Consider his position?
Only after ensuring Horas's safety?
He finally understood that in his father's heart, he was always just a tool.
"Thank you, Father." Hobber nodded mechanically.
"Go and rest." Paxter waved his hand, as if dismissing a servant. "There is much to be done tomorrow."
In the evening, the captain's cabin was lit by flickering candlelight.
The dining table was spread with exquisite food: grilled sea bream with lemon, cream-baked lobster, fresh fruit from The Arbor, and aged golden wine.
But Hobber found the food tasteless.
He mechanically cut his fish, listening to his father talk incessantly about future plans—plans that always had Horas at their center.
"When Horas returns," Paxter took a large gulp of wine, his face slightly flushed, "I will hold a grand feast for him, so all the nobles of The Reach can see how outstanding the heir of House Redwyne is."
"The etiquette and knowledge he learned in King's Landing will make him a perfect lord."
"He built connections in King's Landing, studied politics, and made future allies. When he inherits the title, House Redwyne will not just be a noble house of The Reach, but an important force influencing the entire kingdom!"
"Furthermore, I intend to personally visit Dorne to arrange a betrothal between him and Princess Arianne Martell!"
He continued talking, getting more excited as he went.
Hobber looked at his father's excited face and suddenly asked a question he had never dared to ask: "And what about me, Father?"
"What path have you paved for me?"
Not expecting this question, Paxter froze for a moment. He was silent for a few seconds before saying: "You will assist Horas, manage the fleet, and handle military affairs. You are brothers, twins; you should support each other."
"Support each other." Hobber repeated the words, his tone flat: "Meaning, I live for him, take risks for him, kill for him, and do all the dirty work so he can stay clean in King's Landing."
Such blunt words caused Paxter's face to darken, and he barked: "Watch your tone, Hobber. Are you questioning my arrangements?"
"No, Father." Hobber lowered his head and sighed: "I just wanted to know my place."
"Your place is as the second son of House Redwyne." Paxter's voice grew colder as he reprimanded him mercilessly: "This is already a far better fate than most people's. You should be grateful, not complaining."
Grateful.
Hobber sneered in his heart.
Grateful that he was always the backup, always secondary, always the one sacrificed for his brother.
Dinner continue
more chapter available in p@tréøñ(Atoki_29)
30% offer on annual membership also