The golden light of the setting sun bathed the world.
Standing atop the castle and looking north, every scene in Redwine Port was painted with a backdrop of brilliance.
The Redwyne Fleet and the Royal Fleet were intimately anchored together, indistinguishable, save for the lowered sails and flags which showed the difference.
Fishermen in the bay rowed their small boats towards the shore, laborers and merchants on the docks were still busy, and smoke was already rising from the low houses along the coast, seemingly calling the men home for dinner and early rest.
To onlookers, this was undoubtedly a harmonious and beautiful picture.
And it did have onlookers.
Within Redwyne Castle, perched high on the hillside, atop the tallest tower, a young knight was leisurely admiring the beautiful scenery.
The girl gazed at the young man infatuatedly.
As if enchanted, she simply couldn't hide her intense feelings.
They had only met half a day ago.
Perhaps this was love at first sight, the romantic love between a maiden and a knight?
She actually blushed herself.
Fortunately, the gentleman beside her remained quiet, making no reaction. She quietly calmed her emotions, and after a few breaths, still couldn't help but cast a glance.
The sunlight came from the west, illuminating the exquisite contours of the boy's profile. Several perfect arcs combined to form an alluring shadow, a reassuring shadow, a shadow she couldn't forget.
His silver hair merged with the golden light, presenting a more dazzling and mysterious hue, as if all the treasures of the world were hidden within it.
The most breathtaking thing was his pair of smiling amethyst-like eyes.
When her father brought guests to pay their respects, she, as a lady, offered proper greetings, expressing blessings to Earl Monford Velaryon, welcoming Ser Robar Royce...
Then it was his turn.
With a smile from his eyes, she felt as if she had fallen into a dream. Scenes of falling in love, marrying, having children, raising them, and peacefully passing away flashed rapidly through her mind, as if she had already lived a happy and fulfilling life.
This must be a sign from the Gods, she was certain.
So she lost interest in the lavish banquet, reluctantly fulfilled her obligations, and left her seat, closely following his figure.
When he sat alone, she would approach him to talk, hoping to get to know each other better.
When he chatted with the attendants or knights in the castle, she would act as a listener nearby, and tell her father's men to say whatever they wanted without reservation.
If he wanted to taste the food, she would meticulously and carefully introduce each dish and pastry.
Dornish-style fried eggs, creamed quail, honey cake baked with blackberries and nuts, and the family's most proud grape red wine, aged vintage.
She quickly discerned his taste.
Not the sweet and sour preferred by children, nor the fierce spiciness that warriors craved, he loved the lingering mellow aroma, and was not keen on any extreme flavors. Just like her.
She felt the wonder of fate even more.
Afterwards.
He walked out of the banquet hall, and she followed closely beside him, clearing every obstacle on the path for him, and finally arrived at the top of this tower.
The sun was setting in the west, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the two of them watched the scenery under the sky, waiting for nightfall.
What a romantic time.
She really wanted to speak immediately and pour out the feelings in her heart, to make him stay, to accompany him every day, to be together forever.
Her remaining shyness and reserve stopped her.
To relieve the turmoil in her heart, she could only concentrate on admiring his face, intoxicated by his silver hair and purple eyes.
Silver hair and purple eyes.
He must be Valyrian, perhaps with some Targaryen blood.
No wonder Earl Velaryon thought so highly of him.
There were hundreds of guests visiting, and he was ranked third, only after Earl Velaryon, the Fleet Commander, and Ser Robar Royce, the Commander of the Royal Guard.
She thought proudly.
He was also a knight, a knight who had been knighted and had a fief. More precious and honorable than the knightly titles of Horas and Horas.
Although it was nothing compared to The Arbor, she believed that with his ability, coupled with the help of her father and family, he could always turn his knightly title into an earl's, perhaps even in just a few years.
Then, I will be a Countess.
She looked at the three-legged fire bird embroidered on his shoulder, and in her mind, she envisioned what the new sigil would look like after combining the purple grapes and it.
A fire bird eating grapes?
She couldn't help but laugh at this childish thought. But how should they be combined?
"Ser, what does your sigil mean?"
She asked softly.
Joffrey shifted his gaze from the harbor to the cheek of Desmera Redwyne.
Earl Paxter's youngest daughter.
"My dear Lady Desmera, you don't like banquets?"
Joffrey, of course, asked the obvious.
She couldn't speak the truth. Desmera pouted slightly and retorted, "And you, Ser?"
Desmera was indeed very curious.
Although she preferred the solitude of the moment, for the third-ranked guest to leave the banquet midway was undoubtedly very conspicuous.
When Ser stood up and walked out, Desmera noticed the displeasure on her father's face. It was only after Earl Velaryon said something that her father picked up his wine glass again.
As for the moment she herself stepped out of the hall...
Desmera dared not look back again, much less imagine how unhappy her father would be.
To her surprise, her father did not send anyone to urge her back to the banquet, as if she and Ser had been forgotten, with no one coming to disturb them.
She didn't believe Ser would act so impolitely without reason.
What was the reason?
She pleaded with her eyes for his response.
Joffrey gazed into the maiden's eyes, smiling silently. The answer was right before him.
It was Desmera herself.
Having personally experienced the island's bustling port today, Joffrey felt even more clearly the significant position of House Redwyne at sea.
For the captains and sailors of The Arbor, for the reputation and credit of Redwyne, and to dismantle the independent naval defense of the Reach, House Redwyne needed to be controlled more firmly and strictly.
This was precisely why he used magical charm, or rather, attracted Desmera during the welcome ceremony.
Earl Paxter had only three children. Both brothers had already submitted and would not dare to oppose the Royal Family again. Horas had even sworn to become a Kingsguard.
If his youngest daughter, Desmera, also embraced the Royal Family, Paxter would have no choice left.
After all, they were his own children, the next generation of House Redwyne. No matter how good the relationships with other families in the Reach were, no matter how close the kinship, could they be more important than his children?
Joffrey not only wanted Redwyne to take a side, but he also wanted them to do so willingly and proactively set an example for the Reach.
The Redwyne Fleet would become the sharp sword of the southern coast!
His gaze grew more fervent.
Desmera hurriedly lowered her head, her hands constantly fiddling with the long hair by her ears.
Joffrey gently held her shoulders.
"Didn't you ask about my sigil? I'll tell you now."
Desmera quietly perked up her ears.
"This is the Three-legged Golden Crow, the Spirit of the Sun, which governs the rising and setting of the sun." The sun shines brightly, and the Light Eternal.
Desmera listened in confusion, it seemed very powerful.
"As for my name," he smiled mysteriously, "I'll tell you after I've spoken with your father."
Speak with father?
Desmera couldn't believe it, had her beautiful dream come true?
At this moment.
The setting sun completely dropped below the horizon.
The two figures on the tall tower gradually merged
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