Although the burnt smell of Lannisport had been washed away by the Westerlands sea breeze for half a month, the soaring firelight of that night remained like a brand on the face of House Lannister, lingering stubbornly.
Especially for Duke Tymond Lannister, this humiliation was heavier than dark rocks deep in a mine. Last year, he took over as Master of Ships from the "Sea Snake" Corlys Velaryon, who briefly returned during the tourney for Princess Rhaenyra's birth but quit again right after.
Duke Tymond intended to use this position to solidify the Westerlands' maritime voice in the Seven Kingdoms, bringing the Westerlands back to the center of political discourse. Unexpectedly, not long after taking office, his own "backyard" Lannisport was burned into a mess by Ironborn.
As Master of Ships, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and bearing the title "Shield of Lannisport," he now became a joke for King's Landing nobles after tea—couldn't even guard his own port, what talk of managing the Seven Kingdoms' naval defense?
Even though Daemon and Gael's dragons arrived in time, preventing Ironborn from destroying Lannisport's goldsmith workshops and fleet foundation completely, the news of "Ironborn trampling the Westerlands heartland" spread like wildfire. Not only could House Lannister not lift their heads before Westerlands lords, but the entire Westerlands became the subject of ridicule for other kingdoms.
In those days, ravens to Casterly Rock almost never stopped.
Tymond's messengers rode fast horses, carrying letters with still-hot wax seals, charging into Ser Rollam Lannister's study time and again. Handwriting was scrawled and angry, every word rebuking this cousin for "dereliction of duty": "I entrusted Casterly Rock and Westerlands safety to you, yet you let Ironborn enter like unmanned land! Since when did the Lion of Lannister become a house cat for anyone to toy with?"
When messengers relayed the Duke's original words, voices trembled. Ser Rollam stood before the map-covered table, face greyer than Casterly Rock dungeon walls, only able to promise "strengthening garrison training" and "speeding up port reconstruction" repeatedly, daring not mention the garrison's initial slackness and reinforcements' panic.
More frustrating for Tymond was knowing clearly: once Lannisport's attack reached the Iron Throne, even if he didn't resign, King's Landing ministers—especially other lords who long disliked House Lannister—would use "dereliction of duty" to drag him down from Master of Ships.
Rather than being pushed down, better to exit gracefully. So the Duke drafted a resignation letter overnight, sent via raven to King's Landing, then took personal attendants and galloped back to the Westerlands. Before leaving, he specifically instructed Casterly Rock attendants: "Must detain Prince Daemon and Princess Gael's retinue; I want to thank them personally—and let the Seven Kingdoms see, a Lannister always pays his debts."
It was this "detention" that gave Daemon's group ample time to examine Casterly Rock's surroundings closely.
The giant rock of Casterly Rock cast a lion-like silhouette in the afterglow of the Sunset Sea. The 2,100-foot peak pierced the twilight. On the rock face three times the height of the Wall, countless arrow slits and windows lit up like stars. Daemon stood below the steps of the "Lion's Mouth," watching the winding stone stairs wide enough for twenty riders abreast. The natural cavern entrance was two hundred feet high. Wind passing through the cave carried a thunder-like rumble from deep underground mines.
"Gods above, this isn't a castle; it's a mountain." Rupert Crabb craned his neck, white pauldron bumping Corlin Celtigar beside him. Staring at scattered towers on the rock face, fingers unconsciously rubbed the silver spoon pilfered from Cornfield. "Our Whispers castle at Crackclaw Point isn't even half the size of this Lion's Mouth."
Corlin held back laughter, pointing to the west side of the rock. "Look at that port; a cave carved by the sea, heard merchant ships can dock. But most Lannister fleets are at Lannisport; this looks more like a secret dock." Just as he finished, several red-armored guards carried a crate of gold ore out of the cave. Ore gleamed with fine light in the twilight, making Rupert's eyes go straight.
Larys Strong still rode his grey donkey—gift from his brother Harwin, taken everywhere now. Black robe hem swept gravel on steps. He listened to the underground rumble, sharpness flashing in black eyes: "Sound of mines; said not emptied for thousands of years. Prince, notice the windows on the rock face? Look small, actually wide halls inside—Casterly Rock defenses hide deeper than Golden Tooth."
Daemon nodded, gaze on the golden lion sigil carved above the cave entrance. Lion eyes wide with rage, fangs exposed, matching the Lannister words "Hear Me Roar."
Gael held Dreamfyre's saddle. Pale blue dragon wings brushed the rock face lightly, startling several crows nesting in arrow slits. "Let's see the Golden Gallery? Earl Humfrey of Golden Tooth said walls inside are gold-plated."
The group walked up the stone steps into the Lion's Mouth. Torches inside lit the passage bright as day.
After about fifteen minutes, the view opened up—a gallery dozens of yards long appeared. Walls and pillars wrapped in thick gold leaf reflected dazzling light from torches. Even flagstone seams underfoot were embedded with fine gold dust.
Glass cabinets on both sides displayed various treasures: ruby-encrusted crowns, pearl-studded cloaks, gold swords carved with ancient runes. Mycah and Rupert couldn't help reaching out but were stopped by guards in time.
"This is House Lannister's family fortune." Mysaria's platinum-blonde curls caught some gold reflection. Staring at a gold set in a cabinet, she whispered, "Much more exquisite than Three Sisters smuggled goods. Heard in Lys that Lannisport is famous for making this."
Alys Rivers's green dress was conspicuous in the gallery. Walking to a cabinet with an old map, she traced Ironman's Bay through the glass. "House Farman's Fair Isle is near here. They hate Ironborn. Heard Fair Isle fleet helped clear shipwrecks near-shore when Lannisport burned."
For the next few days, Daemon's "Westerlands tour" proceeded orderly. They first visited the rebuilding Lannisport—charred warehouses on the pier removed, craftsmen building new wooden frames. Silver-armored garrison patrolled in neat lines, steps measured as if by ruler, completely different from the panic during the attack.
A blonde garrison captain knelt on one knee seeing Daemon: "Prince, thanks to your dragons, we saved the goldsmith workshops in the Inner Harbor. Now twenty men train daily; never let Ironborn near again."
Daemon watched the Lannister fleet docked at the pier. Golden lion flags on longships snapped in the wind, more orderly than Seagard's fleet. Gael pointed to a distant goldsmith workshop, curiosity in pale violet eyes: "Little Daemon, look at those craftsmen making gold lion ornaments. Heard nobles across the Narrow Sea fight for them."
Then they sailed to Fair Isle. House Farman's seat, Faircastle, stood at the island's highest point. Blue field with silver ships sigil was striking in sunlight—red and yellow border surrounding three silver ships, matching the words "The Wind Our Steed."
Lord Farman welcomed them at the pier personally, wearing a blue robe embroidered with anchors, holding a conch horn: "Prince! Last time at Seagard you drove away Urrigon; our whole island celebrated! This time over Lannisport, you burned that Ironborn fleet to ash! Blood debt Ironborn owe us will be repaid one day!"
Fair Isle sea breeze carried fresh fish smell, fresher than the salty stench of Three Sisters. Fishermen dried nets; children chased on the beach holding shell boats.
Gael followed Lord Farman's daughter to see the island lighthouse and traces left by Dreamfyre's former rider Rhaena Targaryen. Mysaria watched a fisherman's wife weave nets with interest. Corlin led Beren and younger followers to pick shells. Even Jarmen Waters relaxed vigilance, taking off his eye patch, sitting on a rock staring at waves.
"More comfortable here than Sisterton." Daemon stood under the lighthouse watching the Sunset Sea shimmer. The Cannibal and Dreamfyre rested on the distant beach—black dragon pawing a stranded sea turtle, blue dragon elegantly pecking fresh fish sent by fishermen. "No smuggler copper stench; feels like a stable home."
Lord Farman laughed hearing this. "Naturally. We Farmans live off the sea, hate Ironborn destroying our livelihood most. If Prince needs a fleet, Fair Isle silver ships stand by anytime—Lannisters pay debts, Farmans too."
Just as they prepared to leave Fair Isle and return to Casterly Rock to prepare for the Ocean Road to the Reach, a raven from Casterly Rock brought news: Duke Tymond Lannister had formally resigned as Master of Ships and was galloping back to the Westerlands.
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