The golden light of the setting sun spilled across the world like honey, warming stone and flesh alike.
Standing atop the castle and looking north, every scene in Redwyne Harbor was tinged with a glorious hue that turned the ordinary into something magical.
The Redwyne fleet and the Royal fleet were intimately docked together, indistinguishable from each other, only their drooping sails and proud banners revealing their separate loyalties.
Fishermen in the bay steered their small boats towards the shore, their day's catch secured. Laborers and merchants on the docks were still bustling about their business, and the low houses along the coast had already begun to emit thin wisps of smoke, as if calling the men home for dinner and an early rest after their labors.
To onlookers, this was undoubtedly a harmonious and beautiful picture.
And it certainly had an audience.
High above, within Redwyne Castle on the hillside, a young knight was leisurely admiring the beautiful scenery from the top of the tallest tower.
The girl beside him was gazing at the young man, spellbound by his presence.
As if enchanted, she simply couldn't hide the intensity of the feelings stirring in her heart.
They had only met for half a day.
Could this be love at first sight, a romantic tale between a maiden and a knight from distant shores?
She blushed with shyness, her cheeks turning the color of the finest Arbor red.
Fortunately, he remained gentlemanly silent beside her, offering no reaction to her obvious admiration.
She quietly calmed her emotions, and after a few steadying breaths, couldn't help but steal another glance at him.
The sunlight streamed in from the west, illuminating the exquisite contours of the young man's profile.
Several arcs combined perfectly, forming an alluring shadow, a comforting shadow, a shadow she feared she could never forget even if she wished to.
His silver hair merged with the golden light, presenting an even more brilliant and mysterious hue, as if it held all the treasures of the known world within its strands.
Most breathtaking of all were his laughing, amethyst-like eyes that seemed to see through stone and soul alike.
When her father had brought the guests to greet her, she had gracefully offered proper greetings, expressing her blessings to Lord Monford Velaryon and welcoming Ser Robar Royce...
And then it had been his turn.
The moment his eyes smiled at her, she felt as if she had fallen into a dream, with scenes of romance, marriage, childbirth, raising children, and peaceful slumber flashing rapidly through her mind, as if she had lived an entire happy and fulfilling life in the span of a heartbeat.
This must be a sign from the gods, she was certain to her bones.
So she had lost all interest in the lavish banquet, reluctantly fulfilling her obligations before leaving her seat, closely following his figure like a shadow.
When he sat alone, she would approach him to strike up a conversation, hoping to increase their understanding of each other.
When he chatted with the servants or knights in the castle, she would act as an audience, encouraging her father's men to speak their minds without worry.
If he wanted to sample the food, she would carefully and meticulously introduce each dish and pastry.
Dornish-style fried eggs, creamed quail, honey cakes baked with blackberries and nuts, and the family's most prized red wine, a vintage from the deepest part of the cellar.
She quickly discerned his tastes.
Not the sweet and sour flavors favored by children, nor the intense spiciness craved by warriors, but the mellow, lingering aroma that he loved, without being obsessed with any extreme taste. Just like her own preferences.
She felt an even more wonderful sense of fate binding them together.
Afterward.
He had walked out of the banquet hall, and she followed closely behind, clearing every obstacle in his path, eventually arriving at the top of this tower where the world seemed to spread out before them.
The sun was setting, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the two of them were enjoying the scenery beneath the vast sky, waiting for night to fall and wrap them in its intimate darkness.
What a romantic time.
She really wanted to immediately confess her feelings, to keep him here, to have him accompany her every day, to be together forever until the end of their days.
Only her remaining shyness and the proper restraint expected of a highborn lady stopped her tongue.
To relieve the restlessness in her heart, she could only focus on admiring his face, indulging in the sight of his silver hair and purple eyes.
Silver hair and purple eyes.
He must be of Valyrian descent, perhaps even with Targaryen blood flowing through his veins.
No wonder Lord Velaryon valued him so highly.
Of the more than a hundred visiting guests, he was ranked third, only after the fleet commander Lord Velaryon and the commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Robar Royce.
She thought proudly of his station.
He was also a knight, a knight with a fiefdom, having been knighted properly. More precious and more honorable than the knighthoods of her brothers Horas and Hobber.
Although it was nothing compared to Arbor, she believed that with his ability, coupled with the help of her father and family, he would eventually turn his knighthood into a lordship, perhaps in just a few years.
Then, I would be a Lady.
She looked at the three-headed firebird embroidered on his shoulder, sketching in her mind what the new coat of arms would look like after combining purple grapes with it.
A firebird eating grapes?
She couldn't help but laugh softly at this childish idea. But how should they be combined properly?
"Ser, what does your coat of arms mean?" she asked softly, her voice barely carrying on the evening breeze.
Joffrey shifted his gaze from the harbor to the flushed cheeks of Desmera Redwyne.
The youngest daughter of Lord Paxter.
"Dear Lady Desmera, do you not like the banquet?" Joffrey asked, though he already knew the answer.
The truth could not be spoken aloud. Desmera pouted her small mouth, and asked in return: "What about you, Ser?"
Desmera was indeed very curious about his own early departure.
Although she preferred their current time alone, for a guest ranked third, leaving the banquet halfway was undoubtedly very noticeable and potentially insulting.
When the knight had risen and walked out, Desmera had noticed the displeasure on her father's face, but Lord Velaryon had said something to him, and her father had picked up his wine glass again, seemingly mollified.
As for the moment she had stepped out of the hall herself...
Desmera didn't dare look back again, and didn't dare imagine how unhappy her father would be at her behavior.
To her surprise, her father hadn't sent anyone to urge her to return to the banquet, as if she and the knight had been forgotten entirely, and no one came to disturb their solitude.
Such impolite behavior—she didn't believe the knight would risk it without good reason.
What was that reason?
She looked at him with eager eyes, seeking his answer like a pilgrim seeking truth.
Joffrey gazed into the girl's eyes, smiling silently, knowing the answer was right in front of him.
It was Desmera herself.
Having personally experienced the bustling port on the island today, Joffrey more clearly understood the important position the Redwyne family held at sea.
For the captains and sailors of Arbor, for the reputation and credibility of the Redwynes, and to destroy the independent sea defense capabilities of the Reach, more solid and strict control measures needed to be implemented against the Redwyne family.
This was also the reason why he had used magical charm—no, attraction—on Desmera at the welcome ceremony.
Lord Paxter had only three children. His two sons had already submitted and would not—indeed, dared not—oppose the royal family again. Hobber had even sworn to become a member of the Kingsguard.
If the youngest daughter Desmera also embraced the royal family, Paxter would have no choice but to follow.
After all, they were his own children, the next generation of the Redwyne family. No matter how good the relationships between other houses in the Reach, no matter how close the relatives were, could they be more important than his own flesh and blood?
Joffrey not only wanted the Redwynes to fall in line, but also to be willing and eager to set an example for the entire Reach.
The Redwyne fleet would become the sword of the southern coast!
His eyes grew hotter with ambition as he contemplated the future.
Desmera lowered her head in a panic at his intense gaze, nervously twirling the long hair beside her ears.
Joffrey gently held her shoulders, steadying her.
"Didn't you ask me about my coat of arms? Now I will tell you."
Desmera secretly perked up her ears, eager for any information about this mysterious knight.
"This is the three-legged golden crow, the spirit of the sun, charged with governing sunrise and sunset." His voice took on a resonant quality. "The sun shines everywhere, and the light is eternal."
Desmera listened in a daze, thinking it sounded very powerful indeed, worthy of this silver-haired knight.
"As for my name," he smiled mysteriously, his eyes glittering in the dying light, "I will tell you after I have spoken with your father."
Talk to her father?
Desmera couldn't believe it. Was her dream truly coming true so swiftly?
At this moment.
The sun had completely set beyond the horizon.
The two figures on the tower gradually merged into a single shadow against the darkening sky...
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