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"The light here isn't as good as the Water Gardens," a voice said.
A man with thin eyebrows, sharp as blades, and eyes as dark as night, cold as a viper's, asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Someone doesn't want us to get too close to the Dothraki," the prince replied, his voice tired and hoarse.
"Is it Lannister?" Oberyn asked him.
The prince shook his head. "I asked Quentyn to meet the Targaryen girl secretly and promised to go to war together after they crossed the sea."
"Do you think those barbarians who use their lives to ride horses can really cross the sea?" Oberyn looked at Doran, who appeared haggard in his chair. He reached for the wine jug on the table and poured the crimson liquid into a glass. "I've dealt with them, Doran. Those guys don't care about the Iron Throne. All they have in their minds is blood and plunder."
The prince remained silent, as he always did. He wouldn't speak easily, just as he once told his daughter, 'Silence is the king's friend, and words are like swords.'
"The whole of Dorne is roaring. We should prepare for revenge," the Red Viper told him.
The prince's eyes settled on the sunlight reflecting from the window into the room, filled with a deep sadness and coldness. This moment made Oberyn feel that he was old, and his own legs felt swollen.
Oberyn only stayed in the Sun Tower for a short while. His back was barely immersed in the narrow shadow falling from the golden arch, and the long spear banner, piercing the sun, danced in the wind. On the high platform of the marble hall behind him sat two identical thrones, one adorned with a golden spear, the other with a sun.
"My lord, people have been saying recently that you seem to be preparing to form an alliance with the Dornish?" Sir Gilbert stopped the Prince of Storm's End and asked directly.
"Is there anything wrong with that?" Dorne is a powerful ally, and it's close to the Stormlands. Cole truly couldn't think of any downsides to an alliance with them.
"Your Excellency, perhaps I shouldn't say this, but I still hope you'll consider these issues. The lords of the Stormlands are actually dissatisfied with the knights you've appointed. Furthermore, you haven't brought back Her Highness Shireen from the North as you promised.
If you ally with the Dornish again, I believe it won't be good for your rule over Storm's End." Gilbert had been acting as the steward for Storm's End, so he naturally saw problems much more clearly than Cole, who was a hands-off manager.
Moreover, he himself was a member of the noble lords, so he could sense Cole's growing distance from the Stormland lords.
Cole nodded, but he seemed to have no intention of discussing the issue with him. He just said dismissively, "Well, I understand, sir. Thank you very much for your loyal advice."
Patting Gilbert's breastplate, Cole turned away, leaving the helpless knight standing there.
Cole walked straight for two steps, then suddenly stopped and turned around. "Why don't we find a place to sit down and talk? The caravan recently delivered a lot of good wine from Dorne."
Since when, Cole seemed to have gotten used to thinking and making decisions on his own, but it turned out he wasn't always right.
No one can win forever, and the game of power has never been just about war. The situation in Westeros had long since strayed from his familiar path. Now, he truly should listen to other people's advice.
After entering the study, Cole pulled out a chair for Gilbert, then picked up the wine jug from the table and poured him a drink, before sitting down at the head of the table himself.
Sir Gilbert Farring and his family had always been unwavering in their loyalty to Stannis and the Baratheon family, which Cole had certainly noticed.
Although he was the prince personally appointed by the late King Stannis, the legal basis for ruling Storm's End was entirely based on his marriage contract with Shireen. But now Shireen was far away in the North, and it was still difficult for him to gain full acceptance from his lords.
While he had established his authority through a series of wars, he also drew a lot of complaints after going North of his own accord.
"You don't seem optimistic about an alliance with Dorne. I wonder why?" Cole poured himself a glass of wine.
He seemed to have no habit of having people serve him wine. Gilbert had heard many rude and mocking comments about him in private.
"Your Highness, haven't you heard about the long-standing conflict between the Stormlands and Dorne?" Gilbert said. "Ever since the Storm Kings ruled this land, the wars between the Andals living in the Marches and the Rhoynar in Dorne have never stopped.
The princes and knights who respond to you now are mostly from the castles in the Marches. Many of them have old feuds with Dorne. If they knew you wanted to form an alliance with Dorne, it would definitely harm your standing in the Stormlands."
Cole swirled the wine glass, a thoughtful look on his face.
The crimson wine spun into swirling vortexes, like the bloody eye of a storm.
He could believe that the Martell family was willing to help the Targaryens, but this had to be done without sacrificing Dorne's interests. Prince Doran was a calm man, and Dorne wasn't necessarily of one mind. A king's every step and thought couldn't escape the scrutiny of his lords.
"You know, we will have a war with King's Landing in the end. This is inevitable," Cole told him.
As long as Storm's End still claimed to be of the king's line, war would come sooner or later. Now was just the calm before the storm.
It was clearly irrational for the Reach and the Crown to fight the West with only the power of the Stormlands, and the situation in the Stormlands could be said to be devastated. The war had caused great damage to the productivity of this land.
We couldn't expect the Stormlands to resist as stubbornly as Dorne had. This was unrealistic.
Gilbert silently swallowed his wine. The Stormlands' current situation was indeed very bad.
"Dorne did not participate in the previous war and is an ally that can be won over. Besides, there is..." Cole didn't finish speaking. Prince Doran's messenger hadn't yet delivered the news of the alliance with the Dothraki.
"Your Highness, perhaps you are right," Gilbert said uncertainly, "But I hope you can hold a meeting and explain your reasons to the lords in the castle."
"Not yet."
"Your Highness! Maester Pylos wants to see you!" The guard outside the door knocked and called out.
"Please let him in," Cole ordered.
The maester bowed. "Your Highness, please excuse me for interrupting." He handed over a letter. "Here is a letter from Sunspear."
Cole had told the maester that any letter from Sunspear should be delivered to him as soon as possible.
After taking the letter from the maester and unfolding the parchment, Cole's expression gradually became solemn.
He sighed, "The gods always like to play cruel jokes on you in unexpected places."