Arthur met Edric's "Lord Red-Haired Egghead," Lord Paxter Redwyne, early the next morning.
Lord Paxter had returned from Beacon Tower to Starfall yesterday and had come to visit with his children first thing this morning.
Paxter walked in from the small hall entrance with a slight stoop in his shoulders, perhaps the result of years hunched over ledgers and maps.
He wore a doublet of blue silk, embroidered with dark purple grapes on the chest that shimmered like clusters of gems as he moved.
As for the top of his head... it was exactly as Allyria had described: a shiny bald dome with only a few wisps of orange-red hair clinging to the sides.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Paxter." Arthur greeted him with a polite smile.
"I heard you visited my fiefdom. How did you find it?"
"A beautiful place. Even in the Reach, I have never seen peach orchards of such scale," Paxter praised.
"Ser Arthur, congratulations on becoming the Sword of the Morning. To achieve such an honor without the Dayne name is something I have never seen before."
"Well, today you have seen it."
Arthur gestured for Paxter to sit at the long oak table.
Servants brought out chilled Amber Peach Wine from the cellar.
"Ser, I heard you grew up in Winterfell before coming to Starfall." Paxter took a sip of the wine, his Adam's apple bobbing under loose skin.
"Yes, that is the origin of my surname." Arthur traced the rim of his goblet with a finger.
"I was raised and educated by my uncle, Lord Eddard, at Winterfell."
"I met Lord Eddard once. He is a just and honorable man."
A flicker of memory passed through Paxter's eyes as he unconsciously stroked the grape embroidery on his doublet.
"That was during Robert's Rebellion. He led his army south and lifted the siege of Storm's End with a single negotiation, sparing further bloodshed."
Arthur nearly choked on his wine.
Hearing the phrase "Robert's Rebellion" from Paxter Redwyne's mouth was rich with irony—considering House Redwyne had staunchly supported the Targaryens during the war.
Suppressing a smirk, Arthur thought, This Paxter certainly knows how to whitewash history.
"My uncle told me about that," Arthur said, setting down his goblet with a dull thud.
"He said Duke Mace and your Arbor Fleet besieged Storm's End for a full year."
"The garrison was pushed to the brink of starvation. The horses were long eaten, the cats and dogs boiled for stew."
"They were left eating roots, rats, and shoe leather. It was said they were close to eating their own dead to survive."
Paxter's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, his fingers drumming an uneasy rhythm on the table.
Arthur continued, "If not for a notorious smuggler slipping a ship full of onions and salt fish into the harbor, the garrison would never have lasted until my uncle arrived to lift the siege."
"Taking Storm's End... that would have been an honor even the Kings of the Reach of old failed to achieve."
In truth, Arthur strongly suspected that Davos Seaworth's onion ship had been deliberately allowed through by Lord Paxter, behind Lord "Pufferfish" Mace Tyrell's back.
Given Stannis Baratheon's unbending nature, if Storm's End had fallen, Stannis likely would have died fighting. That would have left the Reach with no room for negotiation after the war.
Facing a grand alliance of Wolves, Falcons, Stags, and Fish—plus Lions and Krakens—alone would have turned the Reach into a hunting ground.
Paxter suddenly burst into laughter, a sound like a rooster being choked.
"Let the past stay in the past!" He raised his goblet, the amber liquid swirling in the light.
"Let us talk about cooperation. About this Amber Peach Wine, and the other spirits produced on your lands."
Arthur's spine stiffened slightly. Finally, the main topic.
"It is our honor to cooperate with the Arbor," Arthur said steadily.
"But... in what manner do you propose this cooperation?"
Paxter leaned forward, elbows on the table, a posture that made his thin shoulders look even sharper.
"The Arbor possesses a mature and vast merchant fleet. We trade wine in ports all over the world, as far away as Asshai by the Shadow."
His fingertip traced an imaginary route on the table.
"Starfall can entrust the sale of all its wine to House Redwyne, to maximize profits."
"Generally, the longer the voyage and the scarcer the goods, the higher the profit margin," Arthur replied neutrally, noting the use of the word "entrust" rather than "partner."
"Precisely," Paxter nodded.
"With the centuries of reputation House Redwyne has built, stamping our grapevine sigil on Starfall's wine will not only make it easier to sell but also command a much higher price."
Arthur had to admit, Paxter was right. House Redwyne's brand was powerful.
Wealthy merchants and nobles in the Free Cities might not know Starfall's Amber Peach Wine, but they certainly recognized Arbor Gold.
Stamping a barrel with the Redwyne grapevines instantly raised its value and marketability.
Mature sales channels, logistics, and brand recognition—these were exactly what Starfall lacked in its nascent wine business.
"And how will the profits be split?" Arthur looked Paxter in the eye.
A smile touched the corners of Paxter's mouth as he held up three fingers.
"Starfall handles the brewing and production. You worry about nothing else, and you receive thirty percent of the sales profit."
Arthur's face remained impassive, but internally he was cursing. I've been hustling since I left Winterfell six years ago, and still, seventy percent belongs to them?
"Can it not be higher?" Arthur's voice dropped an octave.
"My lord, Starfall's share seems exceedingly low. I feel no sincerity in this offer of cooperation."
"Ser, I thought you would understand," Paxter sighed, looking the picture of sincerity. "Maintaining trade routes, entertaining clients, maintaining ships... the risks at sea are numerous."
He spread his hands, silk sleeves slipping back to reveal wrists spotted with age.
"Plus, once your wine carries our brand, the price and volume will rise significantly. Even thirty percent will yield far more gold dragons than you can earn now on your own."
Arthur sipped his wine in silence, offering no reply.
No matter how sincere Paxter looked or how sound his reasons, a thirty percent offer was insulting.
If this was his real bottom line and not a probing bid, there was no point in continuing.
Seeing Arthur's silence, Paxter leaned in closer.
"Of course, the profit distribution is not non-negotiable."
"The Arbor truly wishes to maintain a long-term cooperative relationship with Starfall."
"To show our sincerity for a long-term alliance, I hope Lady Allyria would marry one of my sons." Paxter tapped the table again.
"If that happens, the profit share can increase by another ten percent."
He paused, watching Arthur's reaction. "If young Lord Edric comes to the Arbor as my squire, we can add another ten percent."
"And when Edric comes of age, I intend to betroth my daughter, Desmera Redwyne, to him."
Arthur almost rolled his eyes. This old fox was waiting for him right here.
Allyria and Edric's words from last night's dinner echoed in his ears.
'Lord Red-Haired Egghead.'
'Desmera is such a boring girl...'
'Every time I see Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, I imagine them bald...'
Prejudices of the heart were indeed harder to melt than the Dornish sun.
Although noble marriages were transactions of interest rarely involving love, Arthur still hoped they could find some happiness.
Moreover, he had promised Allyria his unconditional support in her choice and was holding this tourney for her.
"House Dayne and House Redwyne are both ancient and noble. A union would be a fine thing," Arthur said diplomatically.
"However, marriage and fostering are major life events. I need to consult Allyria and Edric personally. Please give me some time."
Paxter frowned. "How long?"
Arthur wanted to say 'next lifetime,' but he politely replied:
"Lord Paxter, please enjoy the tourney first. We can discuss the details of cooperation after the festivities conclude."
Arthur remained polite to 'Lord Red-Haired Egghead' just in case a miracle occurred and Allyria suddenly developed a taste for one of the Redwyne twins...
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