The morning sun gilded the flat expanse between Star Station and the Dawn Market. Arthur reined in Shadow, bringing the black horse to a halt.
He knew this place intimately. It had once been the training ground where the old master-at-arms drilled the levies, and later, it was the first site Arthur used for reforming the wildling captives.
"My lord, what do you think?" Karen the Fat Steward rode closer, beads of sweat dotting his round face. The Castellan of Starfall always looked uncomfortable on horseback, his generous backside shifting uneasily in the saddle.
Arthur didn't answer immediately. He dismounted, stomping his boots on the dry earth. Very little dust rose.
He crouched down, grabbing a handful of soil and rubbing it between his fingers to feel the texture.
"The soil is firm enough, with good grass cover," he said, standing up and dusting off his hands.
"The horses' hooves won't kick up too much dust, so it won't obscure the knights' vision or the spectators' view."
"Just as you say, my lord." Karen clambered clumsily off his horse.
"Besides that, the terrain is not only flat, but we also have existing barracks, stables, and a smithy nearby."
He pointed a stubby finger toward several rows of wood-and-stone buildings in the distance.
"We only need to build the grandstands and level the ground a bit more, and it will meet all the requirements for the tourney."
Arthur walked toward the craftsmen who were already at work. The sounds of wood being moved and stone being chiseled echoed across the open space.
A grey-haired man saw him approaching and immediately put down his hammer, wiping his hands on a dirty apron.
"Quentin," Arthur nodded in greeting. "How is the work progressing?"
Quentin the Architect, his skin tanned dark by the sun, had bright eyes. "The main structure of the grandstand will be finished within three days, my lord."
He pointed to the wooden frame already erected. "We used the original stone foundations for reinforcement and are building the upper levels with freshly cut oak. At the latest, in a week, this will be a tourney ground fit for knights to charge."
Arthur nodded in satisfaction, his gaze sweeping over the busy workers.
A young apprentice was struggling to drag a heavy beam. Suddenly, he stumbled, nearly falling.
Arthur stepped forward quickly, steadying the swaying timber with one hand and catching the panicked boy with the other.
"Careful," Arthur said gently, effortlessly righting the beam.
The boy's eyes went wide. He clearly hadn't expected Arthur to help him.
"Th-thank you... Sword of the Morning, my lord!" the boy stammered, his face flushing red with embarrassment.
Arthur patted his shoulder and turned back to Quentin.
"Ensure everyone has enough water and rest, especially at midday. I don't want this tourney built on the backs of exhausted craftsmen."
Leaving the construction site, Arthur and Karen headed south to inspect the expansion of Star Station and the Dawn Market.
Merchants and farmers along the way bowed, and Arthur returned their greetings.
He noticed several new rows of neat stone houses in the market, their red-tiled roofs shining in the sun.
"These new buildings are sturdy," Karen said, wiping his sweat. "Enough to accommodate the influx of merchants, travelers, and knights during the tourney."
"We've stocked enough grain in the warehouses for three months. Plus peach wine, summerwine, and peaches from the orchard. The Amber Peach Wine is stored in the cellars of Starfall."
Arthur walked into a warehouse, running his fingers over sacks full of grain, checking for dampness or pests.
He lifted the wooden lid of a wine barrel, and the aroma of peach wine wafted out immediately.
He scooped a small cup to taste. The mellow flavor made him nod slightly. It was the familiar taste of quality peach wine.
After touring the Dawn Market and Star Station until dusk, Arthur returned to Starfall.
Passing the practice yard, the sounds of metal clashing and hoofbeats caught his attention.
Even at this hour, a dozen knights and squires were still training hard.
One knight charged full speed at a quintain, his lance striking the target precisely and sending the dummy spinning wildly.
On the other side, archers were taking turns shooting at distant targets. One figure was particularly focused—Jimmy Sunderland, his squire.
Arthur leaned against the fence to watch.
Jimmy's form was near perfect, his breathing steady, his eyes locked on the target.
The arrow left the string and struck the bullseye.
His companions exclaimed in admiration, but Jimmy simply reached for another arrow, his expression unchanged, and continued practicing.
"He's been at it all day," a familiar voice said behind Arthur. "From sunrise till now, barely resting except to drink water."
Arthur turned to see the old master-at-arms walking over with his arms crossed.
"He'll collapse," Arthur frowned. "Even a man made of iron needs rest."
The master-at-arms shrugged. "I tried to tell him. But that boy, even though he's from the Three Sisters, is as stubborn as a Dornish mule."
"Ever since you promised to knight him if he wins a place in the archery contest, he's been possessed."
A glint of appreciation flashed in the old man's eyes. "But I have to admit, his progress is astonishing. Right now, there are few in Starfall who can match him with a bow."
Jimmy had boasted to Arthur that he would place in the archery contest at this tourney to make up for his failure at Sunspear.
Seeing his high spirits, Arthur had promised that if he truly placed, he would knight him with Dawn.
He hadn't expected the kid to work this hard, practicing day and night.
---
At dinner, the small dining hall of Starfall was brightly lit.
The long table was laden with roast venison, honeyed quail, and fresh sea fish.
Arthur sat at the head of the table. His aunt, Allyria Dayne, sat to his right, wearing a deep blue gown that accentuated her elegant neck and collarbones.
"The first noble guests from the Reach arrived three days ago," Allyria said, elegantly cutting a piece of nut-crusted white bread with a silver knife.
"House Redwyne of the Arbor."
The Arbor was separated from Starfall only by the straits. With a favorable wind, the journey was indeed quick.
"So soon?" Arthur raised an eyebrow as he put a piece of venison in his mouth. He teased, "Auntie, your charm is irresistible."
"Lord Paxter probably threw his twin sons onto a ship the moment he got the raven. Otherwise, how could they be here so fast?"
"I wish they were slower," Allyria put down her fork, looking unenthused.
"The Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, visit me every morning. And every time, they bring gifts—silk gowns, jewelry, roses of every color..."
Her voice grew quieter, ending almost as a sigh.
Arthur sensed something was off. "You don't seem to like them?"
Allyria looked up, a trace of helplessness in her violet-blue eyes.
"They are polite, well-spoken, and their stories of the Reach are interesting..." She paused, searching for the right words. "It's just..."
"Just what?" Arthur pressed curiously.
"It's rude to discuss people like this," Allyria said, poking her bread with her fork in distress.
"But their looks are too... plain. Orange hair and square faces full of freckles."
"And when I saw their father, Lord Paxter... The Lord is well-dressed and elegant, but..." She lowered her voice.
"He's almost completely bald. Just a few wisps of orange-red hair clinging pitifully to his scalp."
Suddenly, Edric piped up. "Lord Red-Haired Egghead!"
The boy realized his mistake immediately, covering his mouth with his small hands, eyes wide.
Arthur instinctively wanted to laugh, but quickly checked himself and glared at his squire. "Damn it, Edric. Who taught you to give people such mean nicknames?"
The boy shrank back, his voice mosquito-thin. "It... it was in the stories Prince Oberyn told..."
Arthur couldn't really blame the Red Viper; he hadn't taught Edric these things himself.
On the journey back from Sunspear, Oberyn had indeed told them many stories.
One was about how his mother had taken him and Elia Martell to visit Starfall and other castles to arrange marriages.
Arthur remembered Oberyn saying:
'Elia was incredibly excited. She was of flowering age, but being frail and sickly, she hadn't traveled much. This was a great opportunity.
At the time, my greatest joy was mocking my sister's suitors.'
He counted on his fingers: 'There was Lord Lazy-Eye, the Squire of Jam-Lips, and one fellow I called the Walking Whale.
The only decent one was young Baelor Hightower. Elia almost fell in love with him, until he unfortunately farted during dinner.
I immediately named him "Baelor Breakwind." After that, Elia couldn't look at him without laughing.
I was a monster as a boy. Someone should have cut out my tongue.'
The memory made the corner of Arthur's mouth twitch upward, but he quickly suppressed the smile.
"Even so, you shouldn't learn such mean words," he told Edric sternly. "A boy should maintain basic manners, especially when discussing other houses."
But Allyria gently patted Edric's hand. "Although the nickname... is accurate, your cousin is right. You can't say things like that outside."
After admonishing Edric, she let out a long breath, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
"The problem is, now every time I see Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, I can't help imagining what they'll look like bald..."
Well, Arthur thought, the father really screwed over the sons.
Arthur wasn't sure if they'd see the man Oberyn once called "Baelor Breakwind" at this tourney—now the wealthy, handsome, and renowned Baelor Hightower, heir to Oldtown, known as "Baelor Brightsmile."
But he knew one thing clearly: Allyria had already mentally sentenced the Redwyne twins to death.
Arthur hadn't met the Redwynes, so he couldn't picture them perfectly, but even someone as handsome as a movie star might struggle to pull off the "wisp-covered baldness" look.
Arthur almost felt sorry for the twins.
No matter how rich or polite they were, once that image was planted in a woman's mind, it was hard to reverse.
Prejudices of the heart were sometimes harder to melt than the Dornish sun.
"Cousin," Edric asked, "will I see Elia and the other Sand Snakes at this tourney?"
"Lord Paxter's daughter, Desmera, is such a boring girl. She doesn't like horses, can't hold a sword or spear, and doesn't even know how to play Cyvasse."
Arthur immediately said, "I don't know, no idea, don't ask me."
He wasn't speaking to Edric, but to Allyria, who was shooting him a questioning look.
As Edric's guardian, Arthur had a responsibility to educate him.
But in Sunspear, he had been busy preparing for the joust and scheming to get knighted. He really hadn't had time for Edric.
And recently, with bandit suppression and tourney prep, he'd neglected the boy even more.
Seeing Allyria staring at him while Edric blinked innocently, Arthur added awkwardly:
"Okay, this must be Oberyn's stories influencing Edric again. How could a normal girl spend all day riding and fighting? And Cyvasse is only popular in Essos."
Allyria took a thoughtful sip of Amber Peach Wine. "Lord Paxter mentioned before that he wanted to take Edric as a squire."
"At his age, he really should formally become a squire."
She put down her cup and looked Arthur in the eye. "Arthur, I want to change his environment. Temper his character."
"I don't want to be a squire for Lord Red... Lord Paxter," Edric protested immediately, his innocent face flushing red. "I want to be Cousin Arthur's squire."
Fostering children was indeed a common way for noble houses to strengthen ties.
Living in a different castle and experiencing different styles of governance up close broadened a young man's horizons.
Arthur agreed with Allyria's thinking. They exchanged a knowing look.
"I agree with Auntie," Arthur said, soothing the reluctant Edric.
"But it doesn't have to be Lord Paxter. With nobles gathering from all over for the tourney, we can find the most suitable mentor for you."
Edric relaxed a little, taking his frustration out on the cod in his plate with large, angry bites.
Mentioning Lord Paxter, Arthur asked, "You've been talking about his children. What has the Lord himself been doing these past few days?"
Edric replied through stuffed cheeks, "After visiting us, he went to Beacon Tower. He said he wanted to tour the Peach Orchard Manor and the winery."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
He wasn't surprised. Paxter Redwyne's interest in the orchards was expected. The Redwynes built their fortune on wine, and with their lands so close, they couldn't possibly miss the rise of Amber Peach Wine.
Considering the letter from the Arbor and the twins' eagerness, Paxter's attitude was clear.
Honestly, if the profit sharing was reasonable, Arthur wasn't opposed to cooperating with the Redwynes.