Titus rose from the bed, pulled on his clothes, and went to the door.
He cracked it open just enough to speak quietly to his captain, "Do you know who came?"
Captain Parker, bald and broad-shouldered enough to fill the doorway, lowered his voice as well.
"The one leading them is unfamiliar. Calls himself Othello. But judging from how the guards address him, he should be a Blaymont."
By now, Parker had guessed that the girl who spent the night in the lord's chamber was the very Blaymont lady the Dornishmen were searching for.
Titus nodded, shut the door, and turned to Lola Blaymont, who had already dressed.
"My dear, is there a Blaymont knight named Othello?"
"Oh? Othello is back? He's from a cadet branch of our family. From what I know, he left Dorne years ago to travel. I didn't expect him to return as a knight."
Lola's face paled. Her fingers tightened on her skirt, her red hair spilling over her shoulders.
The playful sweetness from earlier was gone—now replaced with panic.
She had hidden one truth: this Othello was among the suitors her father favored—potential husbands chosen from among the Blaymont cadet branches.
As a female heir, her father had begun selecting candidates early.
Husband and wife sharing the same surname, familiar with each other's roots—this was common among Dornish ruling women.
Unaware of this, Titus put on a black hunting outfit embroidered with gold thread.
A long sword in a silver-plated holly scabbard hung at his waist. The silver pommel swayed with each step, adding sharpness to his already striking figure.
Once both were ready, they followed Captain Parker downstairs.
As they passed through the dark-carpeted corridor, the noise from the front hall grew louder.
When they pushed open the doors, the room abruptly fell silent.
Twenty Dornish guards in leather stood on one side, eyes fixed warily on the entrance. Facing them were twenty Peake soldiers.
Titus immediately saw two men standing at the forefront—one was Bowen, Parker's dark-skinned lieutenant, who hurried over when he saw the earl arrive.
The man facing Bowen—a hard-faced knight around his mid-thirties—must be Othello Blaymont.
Though Lola had said the man should be in his early twenties, his face looked far older.
The moment Othello saw Lola, his eyes brightened. But when he looked at Titus, his expression twisted with fury and jealousy.
In the polished version of his own memories, he believed himself to be Lola's childhood companion—her "beloved friend," as the romantic tales went.
If Titus knew this, he'd translate it into simple words: childhood sweetheart, childhood friend…
But the truth was far more mundane: Othello was merely one of many guards assigned to protect the young lady.
Lola remembered his name only because her father had often recited the list of suitors. Otherwise she would barely know who he was.
This wasn't her first "adventure away from home." Every time she left, Blaymont guards followed her in secret.
This time, however, she ran too far—straight into enemy territory—only to be "captured" in the eastern forest by the Lord of Starshuttle.
The guards following her panicked when they realized what happened.
Too afraid to go deeper into Reach territory and too outnumbered to act, they retreated to report to Lord Berde Blaymont.
Once word reached Blaymont Castle, the would-be son-in-law Othello exploded with anger. He snatched the mission from the old earl and marched through the night to Starshuttle.
Unfortunately, he arrived too late.
Childhood bonds lose to sudden passion. Such is fate.
Especially when the so-called "childhood bond" was barely real.
Titus could read enough from the man's jealous glare and distorted expression. He glanced at Lola beside him. She gave him a nervous, overly sweet smile.
That smile nearly made Othello burst.
He strode forward and roared:
"Shameless brat of Starshuttle! How dare you abduct the brightest ruby of Blaymont Castle!? Release Lady Lola at once!"
Peake and Blaymont—ancient enemies.
Though it was a rare moment of peace between their regions, he clearly didn't intend to show respect on Peake land.
"So you're Othello? If Lola weren't here, I would have questioned whether Blaymont's standards have fallen… ah, my mistake.
You're from a cadet branch. No wonder you weren't taught properly. A bit of rudeness is to be expected."
Titus raised a brow, indigo eyes cool as he examined the man like some barbaric specimen.
He even put on a regretful expression.
"I won't mind your crude words. But Lola came here as a guest. How did your mouth twist that into kidnapping and imprisonment?"
He stepped slightly aside, shielding Lola behind him.
"With such nonsense, I must wonder whether Blaymont's escort can even protect her properly."
"Silence! Matters of House Blaymont are not for a Peake to judge!" Othello barked, grip tightening on his sword. The joints of his armor creaked.
Especially when he saw Lola leaning closer to Titus, looking positively enamored… his face burned with humiliation.
"The wording of barbarians is always this ugly. If it were me, even if angry, I'd say 'hold your tongue'… Lola, isn't that much more polite than 'shut up'?" Titus asked casually.
Lola couldn't help covering her mouth as she laughed.
This brat!
Othello's rage almost blinded him.
Before he could explode again, Titus's smile vanished. His eyes turned icy.
"Sir Othello, what have I done to earn your disrespect?
"My captain allowed you to keep your weapons and brought you into my castle whole and intact…
In these peaceful times, that is more courtesy than you deserve. Starshuttle has shown Blaymont Castle ample respect."
"Yet from the moment you saw me, you have refused to address me as 'my lord.'"
Only then did Othello remember—he was standing in this Lord's castle. He forced down his boiling temper and growled:
"Fine… fine. I'll address you properly! Lord Titus. No matter how you twist words, Blaymont honor cannot be stained! If you have any courage, fight me. If you lose, you'll return Lady Lola to me!"
It was true: once stripped of pretense, he was nothing but a brute who relied on strength.
A duel—trial by combat—was a deep-rooted tradition of Westeros.
Titus raised a hand to stop Captain Parker from stepping forward to challenge on his behalf.
Not a trace of fear showed on the young earl's face. If anything, he seemed entertained.
He was no pampered lord. He had skills, weapons, and a hundred ways to make an emotion-driven fool like Othello fall in Starshuttle Castle.
One hundred ways.
The hall tightened with tension. Some guards rested their hands on their weapons, awaiting a command.
Only one person drifted off into fantasies.
Ah! A sacred duel fought for love? How romantic!
Lola's eyes sparkled as she stared at Titus, hands pressed to her chest, her heart pounding wildly. She was thrilled—and worried.
Being a shallow lover of handsome faces, she couldn't help noticing that Othello looked more like the traditional warrior. She wasn't entirely sure her beloved could win…
The moment this thought appeared, she smothered it.
"Titus will win," she muttered to herself, stepping so close she nearly pressed into his back.
Perhaps hearing her whisper, Titus glanced back and gave her a tender look before agreeing cheerfully:
"Fine. And as punishment for your rudeness—if you lose, leave something behind for Starshuttle."
Othello didn't care what the wager meant. His excitement flared instantly.
The crowd split into two groups, escorting the pair out to the castle courtyard.
The courtyard was paved with white stone tiles, green grass sprouting stubbornly between cracks.
On one side hung a shield painted with House Peake's sigil— Three black castles on an orange-gold field.
A symbol of their once vast and fertile lands and the three castles they held: Starshuttle, Whitegarden, and Dustonbury.
The last two had long been taken from them, but the Peakes never altered their sigil.
At the center of the yard stood two tall stone statues side by side.
One raised a warhammer; the other rested a sword.
These were the famed Peake knights: Ellason "the Shieldbreaker" and Bracken "the Besieger," brothers who once helped Earl Emeric Peake—the "Avenger"—destroy a rival house.
Whitegarden was said to be built atop that extinct family's former stronghold. And some stones from their old walls still rested within Starshuttle's outer ramparts.
Titus mused that Peake history was rich with brothers supporting each other toward a shared goal.
A shame that in his generation, he was the only one left—excluding those exiled across the Narrow Sea after the Blackfyre Rebellion.
He and Othello reached the statues, standing face-to-face beneath the watchful stone figures.
Even after decades of weathering, the carvings on their armor were still crisp. It was as if the two legendary knights were watching over this new struggle—born from love.
Seeing Titus still calm enough to admire the statues infuriated Othello further. His earlier rage surged back instantly.
Yes, he had underestimated this boy—but he still believed the boy had no right to underestimate him.
He steeled himself, hatred blazing.
Peake's wicked little brat… I'll personally—