In the reception hall of Skyreach's keep.
Arthur stood by the stone window, looking out. To the north lay the Prince's Pass, and below the slopes, the villages and towns were laid out before him, giving him a sense of total control.
He felt that this sense of mastery, along with the strategic advantage of high ground for observation and defense, was why lords loved building their castles on high places.
"Arthur," Franklyn Fowler began, "do you truly intend, as you said in your letter, to move against all the wildling tribes of the Red Mountains?"
"Of course. Subduing these tribes is my duty as Governor of the Dornish Marches." Arthur turned from the window to lean against the sill.
"Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with a thousand troops, risking offense to the Warden of the Prince's Pass, just because I have nothing better to do."
Franklyn huffed. "So you know it's an offense?"
Lord Dagos Manwoody chimed in at the right moment. "The wildling tribes of the Red Mountains have existed here for a thousand years, almost as long as we Marcher lords. Their settlements are in rugged, hidden places."
"Some migrate frequently. Conquering them is not something that can be achieved overnight."
"Lord Dagos speaks wisdom. My thoughts are the same," Arthur said firmly.
"I do not expect to achieve total victory in a single campaign. Conquering the tribes of the Red Mountains is a long-term mission."
Franklyn and Dagos exchanged glances. As lords of the Prince's Pass, they knew well that subduing wildling tribes consumed vast resources for meager gains. It was a thankless task.
Unless necessary—such as the emergence of a Vulture King—they generally turned a blind eye to the wildlings, focusing mostly on defense.
Sometimes, they even co-opted certain tribes to do dirty work they couldn't be seen doing themselves, like making a little profit on the side or causing trouble for the Reachmen.
However, considering Arthur's behavior of throwing around a million gold dragons, this kind of cost-ineffective action didn't seem impossible for him.
Seeing Arthur was serious, Franklyn's interest piqued slightly. "What do you plan to do?"
"I intend to select a location in the Prince's Pass to serve as a base for the Mountain Corps. From this center, I will gradually suppress and assimilate the wildling tribes."
"I believe that as long as we advance steadily, step by step, no mountain is too high to climb, and no hidden place is unreachable."
"You want to station your thousand-man professional army in the Prince's Pass? A long-term garrison on my territory?" Franklyn's wariness spiked, his voice rising an octave. "Is this the 'gift' you spoke of?"
The wildlings were scattered throughout the Red Mountains. At most, they launched small-scale raids. Even a large-scale invasion required time to gather and prepare supplies, leaving traces that made it easy for him to respond.
But a garrisoned Mountain Corps of a thousand men? With a single order, they could launch an operation without warning. If one day they decided not to hunt bandits, but instead...
The threat to his territory was simply too great.
"Of course not. As I said, bringing the army was the 'offense.'" Arthur picked up two silver goblets from a nearby table and pulled an exquisite flask from his tunic.
As he poured the amber liquid, a rich aroma filled the hall instantly.
Arthur pushed the goblets toward the two lords. "This is the gift I spoke of."
"Amber Peach Wine production has resumed?" Franklyn asked in surprise.
Arthur poured a cup for himself. "And I've brought the one hundred thousand gold dragons for the breach of contract penalty as well."
Franklyn held the goblet, pondering for a moment before shaking his head. "Garrisoning troops in the Prince's Pass and resuming Amber Peach Wine production... paying the penalty... these are two separate matters. They cannot be conflated."
"You can't say they are entirely unrelated." Arthur took a sip of the wine, a slight smile on his lips.
"Once I pay you the one hundred thousand gold dragons penalty, our previous distribution contract becomes void. I would be free to seek other partners for cooperation."
Arthur continued in a noncommittal tone, "When I was a guest at Yronwood, Lord Anders showed a keen interest in distributing Amber Peach Wine."
Hearing this, Lord Dagos, who was savoring the wine and smacking his lips, fell silent instantly, his gaze darting between the two men.
Compared to Arthur's relaxed demeanor, Franklyn's expression was exceedingly gloomy.
"Gentlemen, let's discuss this amicably," Dagos said, trying to smooth things over with a laugh. "Ser Arthur, I hear you were knighted by Prince Oberyn. Surely you know the history between Prince Oberyn and House Yronwood?"
Arthur shrugged. "Naturally, I have no desire to align with House Yronwood. When I was heading to King's Landing to face inquiry and confront the entire Reach in my time of crisis..."
"Anders proposed betrothing his daughter to Edric in exchange for his support. I refused him outright. You should know very well why, Old Falcon."
Franklyn's gaze sharpened. "Did that really happen?"
"Do you not know your old rival? I can swear on Dawn that what I just said is true." Arthur's expression turned serious.
"Old Falcon, given our relationship, I'll be direct."
"Whether it's clearing out the wildling tribes or garrisoning the Prince's Pass..."
"The purpose is to solidify my position as Governor of the Dornish Marches. And to make this title real, I cannot do without the support of weighty Marcher lords like yourself and Lord Dagos."
"Of course, if you don't support me as Governor... I will have to look elsewhere!"
Having said his piece, Arthur scrutinized their expressions carefully.
Dagos unconsciously rubbed his goblet, looking to the Old Falcon for cues. Franklyn looked conflicted, leaning forward in his high-backed chair, seemingly swayed.
Seeing this, Arthur struck while the iron was hot.
"Not long ago, Earl Quentyn Rogers of Amberly sent his heir to Starfall as my ward."
"I loaned him one hundred thousand gold dragons to help rebuild his domain and sent troops free of charge to help him suppress bandits and restore order and rule."
"This is my attitude toward friends and supporters: helping them in times of crisis, saving them from fire and water!"
The Old Falcon narrowed his eyes and studied Arthur for a while. Finally, he let out a long breath and raised his goblet. "To the Governor of the Dornish Marches. Cheers!"
Dagos breathed a huge sigh of relief seeing Franklyn make his decision. Forget the Amber Peach Wine for a moment.
The Prince's Pass lay between the Torrentine valley and the Boneway. If those two powerful neighbors united against him, life in the Prince's Pass would become impossibly difficult.
He raised his cup immediately. "Governor, House Manwoody and Kingsgrave will fully support you in conquering the wildlings of the Red Mountains!"
Suppressing his excitement, Arthur raised his own cup. "Then I will rely on you both in the future."
Compared to the battered hill country, the support of Houses Fowler and Manwoody of the Prince's Pass was far more significant.
Whether in terms of size, voice, or their geographical location in the heart of the Red Mountains, their backing was crucial for Arthur to control the Red Mountains, influence the Marcher lords, and become the Governor of the Dornish Marches in fact as well as in name!