Shortly after Lo Quen entered the palace, Roro arrived with two travel-worn captains seeking an audience.
Lo Quen recognized one of them—Khorane Sathmantes, once a subordinate of Salladhor Saan and captain of the Shayala's Dance. The other was a typical Tyroshi, his slightly greasy brown hair hanging loose over his shoulders. Most striking of all was the tuft of beard on his chin, dyed a vivid emerald green, which lent his otherwise ordinary face a roguish, cunning charm.
Roro bowed respectfully. "Your Grace, this is Captain Moreo Tumitis of the Storm Dancer. He's sailed the Narrow Sea for over thirty years, commanding four vessels. Sometimes he trades in passengers and goods, and other times..."
Roro hesitated, glancing toward Moreo.
Moreo immediately finished for him. "Other times I engage in less respectable work."
His tone was frank, his eyes studying Lo Quen's reaction carefully.
Lo Quen regarded him with mild amusement. The "less respectable work" clearly meant smuggling.
Moreo stepped forward, a sly glint in his eyes that marked him as a man well acquainted with the trade. "Your Grace," he said softly, "I wonder if you might be interested in a certain business opportunity."
Lo Quen raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
Moreo smiled. "Your Grace, I've spent years plying the waters on both sides of the Narrow Sea, most often near the North. As you can imagine, legitimate trade yields little profit—a single storm could ruin me. So I took risks, smuggling timber from the North despite the danger of losing my head. In fact, much of the wood Lord Roro purchased from the black market in Spearhandle Village came from my ships.
"But recently, my men and I discovered something unusual. Perhaps it's the kind of thing that could fetch a fine price from you..."
Lo Quen gestured for him to continue. "Captain Moreo, speak freely."
Moreo lowered his voice. "While felling timber in the coastal forests of Skagos, we stumbled upon a unicorn lair. There were several adult unicorns living there. We didn't have enough men to handle them, so we withdrew."
Skagos? Unicorns?
Lo Quen's eyes narrowed in interest.
The original histories mentioned little about Skagos, and Lo Quen knew almost nothing of it. He only knew that it was inhabited by a tribe calling themselves the Stoneborn—descendants of the First Men, savage and cannibalistic, living largely outside the rule of Westeros. Though they swore nominal loyalty to House Stark, there was little proof they had ever honored that oath.
In the original timeline, Lord Eddard's youngest son, Rickon, would one day be taken there by the wildling woman Osha.
Rumors of unicorns on Skagos had persisted for centuries, yet no bones had ever been found. For Moreo to have ventured there to poach timber—and to stumble upon such creatures—was a remarkable stroke of luck.
"Captain Moreo," Lo Quen said at once, "you want me to send men to help you capture the unicorns?"
Moreo shook his head quickly. "Your Grace, not you helping me—me helping you. I'll guide your soldiers myself and make sure every living unicorn is brought out."
Lo Quen smiled, his eyes glinting with approval at the Tyroshi's quick wit. "Then, Captain Moreo, what is it you want in return?"
Moreo rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. "Your Grace, I'd like to request a reduction in taxes. My fleet's been growing, and continuing to smuggle isn't exactly sustainable. If you could grant my ships some tax relief, that would mean a great deal."
Lo Quen nodded. "You have my word—if you return with live unicorns, your request will be granted."
Moreo's face lit up with joy. He immediately motioned for Khorane to step forward. "Your Grace, Captain Khorane serves under Lord Roro and is a longtime friend of mine. He's also quite familiar with the Bay of Seals. Please allow him and me to undertake this mission together—to capture the unicorns for you."
Lo Quen turned to Khorane and inclined his head. "Captain Khorane, if you can complete this difficult task, I will appoint you commander of a small fleet."
Khorane's face broke into a smile.
He and Meizo Mahr had once been captured together by Lo Quen in the Bone-Gnawing Channel.
But Meizo quickly earned Lo Quen's trust through his skill in intelligence, soon gaining full authority over the negotiations with the Seven Kingdoms' delegation and becoming a key figure in Tyrosh's court.
Khorane, too, nurtured ambitions of his own. Under Salladhor's command, his talent had gone unnoticed, relegating him to the role of a minor ship captain. But now, for the first time, he could glimpse the dawn of opportunity.
Khorane straightened and said solemnly, "Your Grace, you will see me bring back those unicorns."
Roro led the two captains out.
Lo Quen remained in thought.
Unicorns were among the rarest of creatures. At present, only Skagos and Ibben were rumored to harbor them. He pondered: if he could acquire a few and breed them on a large scale, could he perhaps form a unicorn cavalry regiment?
Unicorns were tall and powerful, stronger than any ordinary warhorse. They were swift, tireless, and capable of traversing all kinds of terrain.
For heavy cavalry, selecting proper mounts was a painstaking process—breeders had to sift through generations of stock to cultivate warhorses strong enough to bear the immense weight of armor and rider. Ordinary steeds simply couldn't carry such loads into battle.
The unicorn, however, solved that problem perfectly. Once grown, its physical strength naturally surpassed even the finest bred warhorse. And beyond that, its spiraled horn made it a living weapon—capable of goring enemy mounts with ease.
As Lo Quen was still lost in strategic thought, Meizo's round figure hurried into the great hall.
"Your Grace," he announced, "Lord Eddard Stark has sent an official message. The Kings of the Seven Kingdoms have appointed a Grand Councilor as their plenipotentiary envoy. He will soon arrive in Tyrosh to sign the final armistice treaty."
Lo Quen arched a brow, a faintly amused tone in his voice. "Oh? So they've fully accepted our terms? No tricks, no hidden clauses?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Meizo replied with a bow. "According to the messenger, they will bring three hundred thousand golden dragons as war reparations, along with additional ransoms gathered by the noble houses themselves to redeem their captured lords."
Lo Quen immediately caught on to the key detail. "When did the Iron Throne's coffers become so full? I was under the impression they were broke."
Meizo nodded. "Indeed, Your Grace. The Iron Throne is destitute—there isn't a single golden dragon left in the royal treasury. But the Great Lord of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell, has stepped in to assist. House Tyrell will provide the crown with three hundred thousand golden dragons to pay the indemnity."
"House Tyrell?"
Lo Quen's brows drew together, his expression darkening. "Since when has House Tyrell grown so generous?"
A faint unease stirred within him.