The wind blowing from Blackwater Bay carried a unique salty scent, at times a gentle whisper, at times a furious roar.
Tyrion ran his fingers through his messy hair; it would have been more sincere if King Joffrey had come to greet them himself, rather than sending Hand of the King Tywin's favorite Dwarf son.
But… Joffrey easily messed everything up, and personally greeting the House Tyrell lady was a "good excuse."
And Uncle Kevan… could it be that his presence here also harbored some kind of test from the Old Lion towards the Martell?
Tyrion scratched his cheek with an index finger, suddenly recalling past events he had inadvertently learned about.
His mother and Prince Oberyn's mother were good friends; if not for Hand of the King Tywin's opposition, perhaps Cersei would have married Oberyn, or perhaps Jaime would have married Ilia Martell (Rhaegar's wife), or even both.
Tyrion scratched his cheek again; in his opinion, this would have been a great marriage alliance, and although the Martell siblings were a bit older, a five or six-year age difference was nothing.
Later, he heard from Uncle Kevan… that Hand of the King Tywin had arranged a marriage alliance for Jaime with Lysa of the Tully, but it fell through because Jaime suddenly took the white cloak.
Perhaps, all of this could only be attributed to the mercy of The Seven Gods.
"Hmm… a vulture on a yellow banner… with something white or pink in its claws… the wind is making it sway, I can't see clearly."
"It's… it's a baby in its claws, it's… it's the House Blamont of Blamont Castle, it should be."
"A white skull on a black flag!"
"A skull with a golden crown on a black background, the crowned skull of House Manwoody of Kingsgrave!"
"Three black spiders."
"Those are scorpions, Ser Bronn. House Qorgyle of Sandstone, their banner is three black scorpions on a red background."
"Yellow on top, red on bottom, with a wavy line in the middle."
"That's the flame sigil of House Uller of Hellholt."
"A black and red pie, with a golden hand in the middle."
"House Allyrion of Godsgrace."
Bronn tilted his head to look at Podrick and laughed, "Kid, you're learning well. But too much reading will ruin your eyes, and then you won't be able to use a sword properly."
His gaze returned to the distance: "Next, er… a red chicken… pecking a snake? It seems so."
Pod grew more confident: "House Gargalen of Salt Shore. I'm sorry, Ser Bronn, that's not a chicken, it's a cockatrice, hatched from a rooster by a snake, with a red body and a long black snake in its mouth."
Bronn scanned the increasingly clear Dornish banners: "A golden feather… or a quill… on a checkered green banner?"
Podrick puffed out his chest: "That's the sigil of House Jordayne of the Tor!"
"Nine out of nine, even I couldn't do that, Pod."
This was Tyrion's benevolent lie; he knew every noble house in the Seven Kingdoms by heart, but he didn't mind giving his young squire some confidence.
At the same time, Tyrion's eyes flickered. Prince Oberyn had brought half of Dorne's great lords to King's Landing… He tried to imagine what this meant, and the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt.
Looking at the banners… they were all heads of their houses or their heirs, at least it was impossible for them to be here just to visit the brothels of King's Landing.
Tyrion found it much easier to speak while standing on a wooden crate. He lowered his voice to Ser Adam Marbrand: "Ser, you heard all nine of the Dornish noble sigils Pod mentioned, right? Send someone to inform my father about this immediately."
Ser Adam nodded silently and turned to make the arrangements.
Tyrion looked back at the Blackwater River outside the docks; though they hadn't met, he could already sense the Dornish hostility towards the Lannister.
At this moment, he was for the first time grateful for his sister Cersei's willfulness, otherwise… sending Myrcella to Sunspear for a marriage alliance might very well… not be a pleasant thing.
Occasionally, The Seven Gods was merciful to him too.
The prow of the Dornish ship had a large, high curve, seemingly glowing faintly in the morning light.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—As dozens of oar tips flipped rhythmically on the water, the flagship from Sunspear approached from afar, its hull slowly docking at the Blackwater River Dock.
Banners fluttered in the wind, and after the gangplank was lowered, the first to disembark were horses led by servants. Some were chestnut, some golden, and some pure white as snow, all slender and swift, with delicate necks, very beautiful.
On the horses' backs were intricately carved saddles, from which hung the Dornishmen's favorite round iron shields, bundles of throwing spears, and their customary double-curved Dornish bows used for mounted archery.
It was rumored that though the small Dornish horses could not support full armor, they could run for two days and a night without tiring.
Next came the Dornish nobles, dressed in silk or satin robes with flowing long sleeves, gemstone belts cinching their waists, and their armor densely decorated or inlaid with polished copper, gleaming silver, and soft red gold.
During the Dornish Conquest, Daeron I Targaryen divided the Dornishmen into three main groups: the "Salt Dornishmen" who lived by the sea, the "Sand Dornishmen" who lived in the deserts and narrow river valleys, and the "Stone Dornishmen" who lived in the mountains and passes of the Red Mountains. Among them, the Salt Dornishmen were considered to have the purest Rhoynish blood.
Tyrion stood at the forefront of the welcoming party, his gaze slowly sweeping over the crowd opposite him, a dignified smile on his face.
This time, all three of their main groups were present in the Dornish envoy party. Their features were distinct: the "Salt Dornishmen" were soft and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair that swayed in the wind; the "Sand Dornishmen" were even darker, unable to withstand the intense sunlight, and thus accustomed to wrapping bright long scarves around their heads; the "Stone Dornishmen" were descendants of the Andals and the First Men, with brown or golden hair, though their skin appeared rough due to the Dornish sun.
Soon after, a tall, slender man emerged from behind the Dornish nobles. He was clad in a pale red silk robe, adorned with layers of copper scales that seemed to glow like thousands of bright new copper coins in the soft sunlight.
Upon recognizing the sun-pierced spear sigil on the man, Tyrion straightened his small waist as much as possible, his golden nose radiating a brilliant golden glow.
As they drew closer, Tyrion lifted his chin and announced loudly, "Welcome! I am Tyrion of the Lannister, Master of Coin. King Joffrey, upon learning of your arrival, specifically dispatched us to welcome you."
After a pause, he added, "My father, the Hand of the King, also extends a warm welcome to you all."
Then, he placed a hand on his chest towards the tall man at the front: "Welcome again, Prince Oberyn of the House Martell."
Oberyn Nymeros Martell had a long, melancholic face, with large, dark eyes like pools of kerosene beneath finely arched brows, and a similarly sharp forehead and nose, with only a few silver threads in his lustrous black hair.
It was rumored that when Prince Oberyn was sixteen, he was discovered having an affair with Earl Edgar's mistress, leading to a duel. However, due to his birth and age, the duel was agreed to end at first blood. After the fight, both men were wounded, but Earl Edgar died shortly after from an infected wound, leading people to believe Oberyn had poisoned his sword… From then on, both his opponents and friends called him the "Red Viper."
Prince Oberyn offered an elegant smile: "My brother, Prince Doran, is unwell and currently unable to travel. He has specially sent me to attend the Small Council at the Red Keep on his behalf."
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