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When Arthur pushed open the oak door to the Hand's small solar, the iron hinges let out a faint creak.
A fire was roaring in the hearth, casting a dancing golden light upon the seven-pointed star tapestry hanging on the wall.
Besides Jon Arryn and his uncle Eddard, Renly Baratheon and Mace Tyrell were also present.
Small meetings for big decisions, big meetings for small decisions, Arthur thought, the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly.
It seemed Jon Arryn intended to settle this dispute once and for all today.
"Ser Arthur." Renly nodded politely, offering a gesture of goodwill. "Your honesty and candor in the Throne Room were truly commendable. Such qualities are rare in King's Landing. Perhaps the gods sent down their lightning as a reward for a good man like you, to show where they stand."
Today, Renly was not wearing his usual green velvet. Instead, he was dressed in the black and gold of House Baratheon, his half-cape fastened with an exquisite golden antler clasp, making him look every inch the royal lord.
Arthur, believing in not striking a smiling face, returned the smile. "Lord Renly, you flatter me. I only sought justice... and it seems the gods agreed."
Jon Arryn coughed once and tapped his withered fingers on the table. The room fell silent instantly.
"Very well. Now that everyone is here." Jon Arryn leaned forward. "My lords, we are gathered to reach a conclusion and find common ground regarding the conflict between the Arbor and Starfall."
Mace Tyrell immediately straightened his back. His large, somewhat portly frame caused his chair to groan in protest.
"Ser Arthur, I demand the release of all prisoners from the Reach, especially Ser Meryn Tyrell, Ser Garth Hightower, and Lord Quentyn Rogers. They are all innocent men who did not invade Starfall's lands and should not be held responsible for this."
Mace had curly brown hair and a beard trimmed into a triangle, speckled with white, though he remained a handsome man. Despite being mockingly called the "Lord Oaf" or "Lord Puff Fish," as the father of Loras and Margaery, his looks were undeniably good.
Arthur emphasized, "Lord Mace, my attack on Oldtown's domains was always about retaliating against the Arbor. I have already given Lord Mathis Rowan a list of demands. I even released seventy-seven prisoners as a gesture of good faith."
"My lords have seen the list. As long as the two demands on it are met, the remaining prisoners will be released immediately."
At some point, Renly had pulled a plump peach from his pocket. He took a slow, deliberate bite, juice dripping from his fingertips.
"Bringing pirates who commit atrocities to justice... that seems a reasonable request," he mumbled through a mouthful of peach.
Mace's expression shifted slightly, but he forced a strained smile. "I can agree to that point. But one and a half million gold dragons in compensation... that is absurd! The itemized list itself has many points open to debate."
"Furthermore, Oldtown and its surrounding lands suffered heavy losses from the wildling invasion. How should that account be settled?" He stood up, placing both hands on the table. "And I need Ser Arthur to guarantee that the wildlings will not attack the Reach again."
Arthur looked at Mace Tyrell with some amusement. It was no wonder they called him the Pufferfish; his mouth wasn't small, but his appetite was frighteningly large.
Eddard spoke coldly. "This entire affair began because of the Arbor. The losses suffered by Oldtown and its vassals should be borne by the Arbor. Since when does the victim compensate the aggressor?"
Arthur seized the opportunity to add, "Besides, the gods themselves testified for me in the Throne Room. My retaliation was just."
"As for the damages to Oldtown... let the Reach settle that internally. Did not Paxter's son marry Quentyn Rogers' daughter? You are all one big family. I trust you can negotiate a solution amongst yourselves."
" regarding the wildlings attacking the Reach again: Starfall can only restrain the wildlings within our own territory. I have no authority over the rest. Furthermore, I worry that the Arbor fleet might once again disguise themselves as pirates to attack and blockade my lands."
"I also need a guarantee from Lord Mace that 'pirates' will never again attack Starfall."
"You... you..."
Seeing his demands rejected one by one, and new demands placed upon him instead, Mace's face flushed red, as if he had been slapped in public. He opened his mouth but found no words to retort.
Jon Arryn raised his hands, palms down, signaling for calm. "There are many disputes between your two sides. That is precisely why I have gathered you here to negotiate."
"Let us take them one by one." Jon Arryn turned his gaze to Mace. "First, regarding Lord Mace's demand for compensation for Oldtown's losses. I agree with Arthur. The gods have proven his retaliation was justified."
Mace glanced at Arthur, a flash of fear in his eyes. "This... on this point, I agree."
He had only raised the point as a bargaining chip. He had seen the gods strike down Paxter with his own eyes. If not for his daughter's strong persuasion, he would have wanted to return to Highgarden immediately and wash his hands of the whole affair.
"Next, Arthur's list is open to negotiation," Jon Arryn continued. "I will have Lord Baelish, the Master of Coin, assess the values and determine the final compensation amount. Is this acceptable?"
Arthur was the first to agree. "Lord Baelish is an expert in generating wealth. I trust his ability."
Mace looked at Renly, saw him nod, and said, "If it is assessed by the Crown's Master of Coin, I have no objections."
"Finally, Lord Mace's concern about future wildling attacks on the Reach..." Jon Arryn's gaze swept across their faces. "What are your thoughts?"
"House Dayne holds the hereditary title of Warden of the Torrentine," Arthur said. "If Starfall's lands are not subjected to unjust attacks, I will restrain the wildlings within my borders from raiding the Reach. If they dare disobey my orders and attack, I will hang the offenders myself. As for wildlings elsewhere, I cannot help you."
Eddard frowned slightly. "I do not understand. Lord Mace, you are the Warden of the South. It is your duty to protect your vassals and smallfolk. Why do you seek to blame others for the responsibility of clearing out wildlings?"
Mace's face turned the color of raw liver. He had raised this point to limit Starfall's ability to harass the Reach in the future. Arthur's military power displayed at Oldtown was too exaggerated, especially with his ability to lead an army across the Red Mountains.
Renly interjected smoothly to smooth things over. "Lord Mace likely fears that Starfall might follow the Arbor's example and disguise their own men as wildlings to raid the Reach. After all, Ser Arthur's combat capabilities and achievements are truly astonishing, and he has subdued the wildlings of the Red Mountains."
"My lords, rest assured," Arthur guaranteed with a solemn expression. "I will not stain my honor, nor the honor of the Sword of the Morning borne by generations of House Dayne, with unjust acts."
"The previous Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, kept his vows until death. I dare not compare myself to him yet, but I strive to follow his example. I will not bring shame upon my house."
Arthur's words drew looks of appreciation from both Jon Arryn and Eddard, and even Renly's eyes showed a glimmer of respect.
"Ser Arthur Dayne was indeed a true knight of the Kingsguard," Eddard said gravely. "That is why I returned Dawn to Starfall with my own hands all those years ago."
Mace took a deep breath. "Since Ser Arthur has given his word, I have no objections."
With Mace's agreement, everyone looked to Jon Arryn for the next topic.
However, the Hand did not move to the next item on the agenda. instead, he spoke loudly.
"Regarding the wildlings of the Red Mountains and the Dornish Marches... I have a proposal."
"Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, and the wildlings of the Red Mountains have been in constant conflict in that region. Clashes have erupted there for thousands of years."
"Today, with all the relevant lords gathered here, I see an opportunity to change this reality."
"I propose establishing a Governor of the Dornish Marches to oversee the entire region!" Jon Arryn stood up, his voice ringing with conviction. "Let the wildlings of the Red Mountains be brought under the King's peace. What say you, my lords?"
Arthur's pupils contracted sharply in shock. He turned to look at Eddard and found his uncle looking equally astonished.
Jon Arryn had never mentioned creating a Governor of the Dornish Marches to him before. It seemed even his uncle had been kept in the dark.
Was this a spur-of-the-moment idea? Or a long-held plan kept secret until now? Arthur couldn't be sure.
Governor of the Dornish Marches. This title had never appeared in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Dornish Marches was a geographical term in Westeros, not a long-standing administrative region like "The North" or "The Westerlands." It was a vague geographical concept.
But the area it covered was vast, encompassing almost the entire Red Mountains and the borderlands between Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands.
The southern part of the Marches, belonging to Dorne, included House Blackmont of Blackmont in the Torrentine valley; House Fowler of Skyreach and House Manwoody of Kingsgrave near the Prince's Pass; and House Yronwood of Yronwood and House Wyl of Wyl near the Boneway.
The western part, belonging to the Reach, included House Tarly of Horn Hill and House Peake of Starpike.
The eastern part, belonging to the Stormlands, included House Caron of Nightsong, House Dondarrion of Blackhaven, House Selmy of Harvest Hall, House Swann of Stonehelm, and the ruined Summerhall.
For over a thousand years, the Dornish Marches had known no peace, ravaged by constant warfare. As a result, the castles there were strong, and the lords maintained a fierce martial tradition.
Jon Arryn sat back down without another word, letting the group digest the information. The room fell into dead silence.
Finally, Renly broke the quiet. "Lord Hand, establishing a Governor of the Dornish Marches is a matter of great significance. Perhaps it would be better to discuss this at length later?"
"Lord Renly," Jon Arryn said firmly. "You govern the Stormlands. Lord Mace is the Warden of the South. Prince Doran has sent his eldest son to King's Landing with Arthur."
His gaze burned as it swept over them. "The liege lords of all three regions of the Marches—or their representatives—are here today. There is no better time to discuss this than now!"
He stood up slowly, but his aged voice was powerful.
"Just now, Lord Mace mentioned his fear of wildlings raiding the Reach. If there is a Governor of the Marches to command the border forces and suppress the unruly wildlings, such raids will naturally cease."
"Furthermore, the Marcher lords, loyal to their respective lieges, constantly feud. Without arbitration from their overlords, minor friction often escalates into conflict, dragging the realm into unnecessary bloodshed."
"With a Governor of the Marches to mediate, these issues can be resolved locally, snuffing out conflicts and feuds before they begin."
Eddard Stark nodded in agreement. "Fair judgment prevents disputes from escalating into bloodshed in their early stages. This is an effective measure to ensure long-term peace in the Marches."
"Additionally, having a Governor coordinate the lords of all three sides to suppress or subdue the wildlings of the Red Mountains, or to organize coordinated defense, would benefit all the Marcher lords."
Mace stroked his carefully trimmed beard, a glint of ambition in his eyes. "The two lords speak wisdom. But... who should hold this position of Governor?"
He straightened up, his voice booming as he puffed out his chest. "I recommend myself! Or perhaps Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, or Lord Titus Peake of Starpike!"
Jon Arryn raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly surprised that Mace was the first to agree. His gaze turned to Arthur and Renly, who had not yet declared their stance.
Under Jon Arryn's pointed stare, Arthur gave a wry smile. "My lords, I agree with establishing a Governor of the Marches. I nominate myself for the position."
In Arthur's eyes, the job of Governor was a poisoned chalice. The Marcher lords had been loyal to their respective liege lords for thousands of years.
If he became Governor—or anyone else, for that matter—it would be like dancing on eggs.
In reality, a Governor with an empty title and only the authority granted by that title wouldn't get the Marcher lords to buy in. It would be like the Prince of Pentos—a ruler in name only, a tool used by the magisters to balance the books.
"Since all the lords agree to establish a Governor of the Marches," Renly sighed lightly, seeing everyone looking at him. "I recommend... Ser Arthur for the position."
Mace stared in disbelief. "Lord Renly, what did you say!?"
Renly, having anticipated Mace's reaction, remained calm. "The candidate for Governor needs the strength to suppress the wildlings of the Red Mountains and the skill to make them obey."
"Ser Arthur has already subdued the wildlings of the Torrentine and demonstrated the ability to lead an army across the natural barrier of the Red Mountains. This proves he can fulfill the functions of the Governor."
"The title 'Sword of the Morning' will also allow him to deliver fair judgments that the Marcher lords will respect when disputes arise."
"To be honest, if there is to be a Governor of the Marches, I can think of no one more suitable than Ser Arthur."
Upon hearing this, Mace's face turned an ugly shade of gray. He slumped back into his chair like a deflated pufferfish. Jon Arryn, however, wore a smile on his aged face and nodded in satisfaction.