When the merchant ship docked, the hull collided with the pier, making a dull thud.
Oberyn Martell was the first to step onto the land of Valyria, his olive cloak fluttering slightly in the sea breeze. He narrowed his eyes as he took in the legendary island; it was his first time setting foot here.
"It's more lively than I imagined," he said.
Over a dozen people followed him off the ship. Ellaria Sand walked by his side, her hair tied up, wearing a well-tailored dark gauze gown that was both flattering and dignified.
Her eyes scanned the guards on the dock—the Unsullied. They stood ramrod straight, their serious gazes unsettling.
Behind them were three young women.
Nymeria Sand's wheat-colored skin glowed healthily in the sunlight, and two daggers hung at her waist. Tyene Sand walked with light steps, a gentle smile on her face; she had the fairest complexion and her eyes constantly observed the cargo and banners on the dock. Obara Sand was the eldest and tallest, her dark, athletic arms showing defined muscle as she held a Dornish spear.
The last to disembark was a man wearing a chain, though it was not a slave's shackle but the necklace of a Westeros Maester. It was Archmaester Marwyn, who had left The Citadel long ago; however, he had wasted a lot of time on the way to avoid The Citadel's pursuit.
He had met the Dornish party in Lys; since he had known Oberyn before, they traveled together. This was not Marwyn's first time in Valyria, but the feeling of stepping onto this land again was completely different from before.
"Archmaester, don't fall behind," Oberyn called back to him. "The guards here don't look like they'd tolerate loitering."
A captain of the Unsullied stepped forward, his voice devoid of emotion. "Prince Oberyn Martell."
"That's me," Oberyn said with a smile. "I'm here to see your Dragon King."
"His Majesty is already waiting for you at the training grounds. Please follow me."
They walked through the streets of the harbor, where the buildings were clearly newly constructed. There were many pedestrians, and the vendors sold a wide variety of goods, presenting a scene of prosperity. However, these merchants seemed more reserved and disciplined than those in other places.
They boarded a prepared carriage and drove onto the Dragon King's Road leading to the castle—a road paved with black stone, very smooth and comfortable.
The training grounds were in an open area at the foot of the castle hill. By the time they arrived, the Unsullied's drills were nearing their end.
Three thousand Unsullied were arranged in six phalanxes, their spears thrusting in unison and the clatter of their shields perfectly synchronized. Though they were silent, they inspired a sense of dread in those who watched.
"Highly disciplined," Obara whispered, her grip on her spear tightening unconsciously.
"An army of eunuchs," Nymeria countered. "These are soldiers without desire, which is why they are so obedient."
"Without desire, there is no fear," Tyene said softly. "Look at their eyes, sister. Such soldiers are terrifying on the battlefield."
Oberyn's gaze drifted past the crowd, landing on the other end of the training grounds.
Eight Young Dragons were feeding there. Servants brought whole sides of mutton, cutting them into large chunks and throwing them over. The Young Dragons scrambled and bit at each other, then breathed fire to roast the meat before swallowing it, letting out occasional sounds of satisfaction.
"Seven Gods above," Tyene whispered.
Oberyn's pupils constricted slightly. Although they had received news that Viserys had hatched several more Young Dragons, seeing them in person was still shocking. Moreover, this was the first time they had seen living dragons.
Archmaester Marwyn's eyes lit up as he leaned in and said, "There seems to be some special substance mixed in their fire. This doesn't match any known records of dragons."
"Archmaester," Oberyn interrupted him, his voice low. "Now is not the time for taking notes."
On the high platform of the training grounds, a silver-haired figure walked toward them.
Viserys wore black and red armor with twin swords at his waist. Oberyn felt that Viserys had become more composed since their last meeting. He was also more handsome, bearing some resemblance to Rhaegar, but without Rhaegar's melancholy, possessing instead a certain ruggedness.
"Prince Oberyn," Viserys stopped five paces away. "It has been many years. Was your journey smooth?"
"Aside from some rough winds and waves, all was well." Oberyn performed a salute with his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, you have grown even more handsome."
"Thank you for the compliment." The corner of Viserys's mouth curled up as he looked behind Oberyn. "And who are these?"
Oberyn stepped aside to introduce them. "Ellaria, whom you've met before. These three are my daughters: Nymeria, Tyene, and Obara. And the one behind them is Archmaester Marwyn from The Citadel; he insisted on coming along."
Viserys nodded to each in turn, his gaze lingering for a moment on Marwyn's chain. "An Archmaester of The Citadel? I don't recall having much to do with your kind."
"Your Majesty, I am no longer part of The Citadel. I have come to see a true dragon." Marwyn took a step forward, offering a bit of flattery while his eyes remained fixed on the Young Dragons in the distance. "Of course, if possible, may I study those dragons? Their existence fascinates me."
"Of course," Viserys smiled. "But not right now. I have prepared a welcoming feast. You have come a long way; go and rest first."
Just then, a dragon's roar echoed from the sky.
Everyone looked up. Ghidorah's massive form was diving down from the clouds, her three heads shimmering with golden light in the sun. She swept over the training grounds, her shadow covering half the area.
The members of the Dornish delegation instinctively took a step back. Archmaester Marwyn fell directly to his knees, muttering to himself, "Three heads... it really has three heads..."
Ghidorah circled over the training grounds once before flying off toward the volcano.
"Ser Elissar, take them to the castle and arrange their rooms."
"Yes, Your Majesty. This way, please." With that, Alliser led them toward the castle.
Viserys watched their retreating figures, especially the scholar. How could he possibly let someone from The Citadel study his dragons? He was only keeping him around for now because he might still have a use for him.
Though the banquet hall of Dragonwing Fortress was not as luxurious as the Water Gardens of Sunspear, it possessed a rugged and majestic beauty.
Newly woven Targaryen banners with the three-headed dragon hung on the black stone walls. The long tables were laden with various delicacies and large pitchers of Dornish Red Wine, clearly prepared specifically for the guests.
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