The Summerfield, the Vaelarys Purple Palace.
This magnificent palace stood atop the Redhorn Hills in the northwest corner of the town of Summerfield. The hill had once been barren, known for its exposed red soil and jagged rocks, but after Draezell took control, Valyrian craftsmen from across the sea oversaw the palace's construction. Three domed palaces formed a triangular layout at the hill's peak, linked by long glass walkways. At the center stood the tallest palace, entirely built from stone infused with purple dye, crowned by a towering spire. It was a testament to Valyrian architecture.
The summit of Redhorn Hills was paved with marble tiles, soaked in a special purple dye, forming gardens and plazas around the palace. Countless fountains, artificial streams, marble colonnades, exotic transplanted flora, and a variety of sculptures adorned the palace grounds. Vine-like plants crawled over every column and carving, lending the palace an air of grandeur and mystery.
Draezell used this palace to receive guests and to educate the children of his vassals. However, when Rogare and his family arrived, they did not stay here, instead residing in Dragon's Nest. Lysandro considered it a great honor and boasted about it upon returning to Lys. With House Vaelarys' prestige and his daughter's marriage—shamelessly leaving his daughter in Dragon'a Nest while sending his sons to King's Landing—Lysandro quickly took advantage of the situation. The looming presence of dragons also played a role. Upon his return to Lys, he utterly bankrupted Magister Bambarro. The boys and girls of Bambarro's household were sent to work at the perfumed gardens—Rogare's brothel—while his wealth, along with that of Dargaleon, was absorbed into House Vaelarys' holdings.
The merchants and nobles of Lys had their objections, but when they saw the Iron Fleet sail past their city in full force—without attacking the city, without plundering it—they fell silent. After all, schemes and poisons were meaningless in the face of overwhelming power and vigilance.
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"Your Highness, you summoned me?"
Orys Selasmyr, the envoy from the Iron Bank, was a slender man with an upturned mustache. His amber eyes gleamed, his sharp teeth visible whenever he spoke, though his voice was unexpectedly gentle. He wore a plain, dark purple high-collared robe devoid of embellishments. Yet, any discerning eye could see that the silk garment was of the finest material and craftsmanship. However, his most striking feature was the towering brimless hat he wore—so tall that it was nearly half his own height. No matter where he went, it never failed to turn heads, though the envoy himself seemed entirely indifferent to the attention.
During his stay at the Purple Palace, Orys had two favorite pastimes. One was amusing children with his mustache—though each child reacted differently. Rhaegon Kaon delighted in tugging at it, while the youngest son of the lord of the White Tower, Teclis Hoeth, would burst into tears at the mere sight of him. Meanwhile, Renly Caron, grandson of Lord Royce Caron, was particularly fond of pulling at his robes—fortunately, he had plenty to spare. The other pastime was what he was engaged in now: tending to the flowers in the palace gardens.
Draezell rarely visited the Purple Palace. In fact, ever since its completion, House Vaelarys had hardly set foot there. Dragon's Nest was more than large enough—it was the second-largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, surpassed only by Harrenhal and slightly larger than Casterly Rock. It was also far more comfortable. Draezell had infused the entire fortress with magic, ensuring the safety of its inhabitants and dragons while providing an unparalleled living environment. Lady Diana, in particular, had cultivated a small garden of her own—modest compared to the grandeur of the Purple Palace, but warm and inviting. Draezell often took his children there for strolls and rest.
—
"Your Highness," Orys Selasmyr greeted him, watching as Draezell studied the flowers he had just pruned. The envoy abandoned any pretenses of pleasantries—he knew well why Draezell had summoned him.
As one of the most powerful Free Cities, Braavos' stance was of great importance—especially after witnessing the Iron Fleet's full mobilization, its swift takeover of the Silver Fleet's beacon, and the subsequent crushing of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters. Braavos was now acutely aware that its Purple Fleet was no longer unmatched at sea.
The descendants of former slaves had watched as the descendants of their former "masters" not only emerged from the Dance of the Dragons unbroken but with their dragons stronger than ever. That was the true concern weighing on Draezell's mind.
Looking into Draezell's violet eyes, the envoy felt a pang of frustration at the short-sightedness of the Sealord's advisors and the Iron Bank's financiers. The bank had backed Otto Hightower precisely because they wished to prolong the war—as more dead dragons meant fewer threats to Braavos. But they had underestimated just how quickly the war would end, and how little the Targaryens had truly lost.
Nevertheless, Orys remained deferential. "Your Highness, my arrival is Braavos' answer."
"The Secret City still loves testing others' patience with riddles." Draezell took the pruning shears from Orys' hand and, with a sharp snip, cut off a branch. "I can agree to the Iron Bank's request, but, Envoy, that will depend on your sincerity." He clipped another bud before letting the shears fall away.
Orys watched the severed flower drop to the ground and sighed inwardly. The Iron Bank's request was not complicated—they had realized they had struck steel, and that their military strength was utterly outmatched by Vaelarys and Targaryen forces. Even the Faceless Men of the House of Black and White had refused to accept contracts against House Vaelarys, while their asking price for Targaryens was so exorbitant that even their wealthiest patrons could not afford it.
In short, it was not worth it. Better to submit and secure a share of the spoils. And so, the Iron Bank had quietly requested to invest in House Vaelarys' construction projects and the reconstruction of King's Landing. They also sought permission to establish a branch in Westeros.
"What kind of sincerity do you require?" the envoy asked, somewhat pained as he took the shears back from Draezell's hand, preventing him from further damaging the rare plant.
"I want to know why the House of Black and White has sent a Faceless Man to Westeros," Draezell said calmly.
"The fledgling hawk has grown and now desires the mother hawk's nest." The envoy still did not state it outright, but his meaning was clear enough. He looked at Draezell with sincere eyes, hoping he would not press for further details. After all, even the House of Black and White had a reputation to uphold.
"My companion, Khal Argo, is getting married in nine days. Would the envoy be interested in visiting his khalasar to experience firsthand how the Dothraki under my rule differ from those of the mainland?" Seeing Orys surrender so readily, Draezell saw no need to press the matter further. Instead, he smiled and extended an invitation.
"It would be my honor, Your Highness."
Dragon's Nest, the Twin Towers.
"Rey, did you miss me?"
Rhaena had finally finished her visit to Driftmark and returned to Dragon's Nest on a swift vessel. The moment she stepped into the castle, she burst into their shared chamber, throwing herself onto Rey, who had been reading.
Petite in stature, Rhaena appeared even smaller and more delicate next to the tall Rey. But Rey made no move to resist, letting her crash into his embrace. He reached up to ruffle her hair—he had only ever allowed Draezell to do the same.
"Alright, alright." Rey chuckled, letting Rhaena pepper his cheeks with kisses before pressing a gentle one of his own against her forehead. He smiled and guided her to sit beside him.
"Rey, I learned a big secret," Rhaena said, excitement gleaming in her eyes, though a mischievous satisfaction flickered beneath it.
Rey's smile took on a subtle shift. "Go on."
"My grandfather had two bastards. Did you know that, Rey? Joffrey is now racking his brains trying to legitimize them. Apparently, it was my grandfather's dying wish." As Rhaena spoke, however, her expression dimmed slightly.
"Poor Joffrey," Rey murmured, listening as Rhaena animatedly recounted everything she had seen and heard at Driftmark. He responded just enough to keep her going, waiting until she had spoken her fill. Then, with a knowing smile, he said, "The two boys—are their names Adam and Erin?"
Rhaena's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know that?"
"Take a guess." Rey grinned, a sly glint in his gaze.
"Rey!" Rhaena dove into his arms again, but this time her hands found his ribs. "If you don't tell me, I'll go straight to Draezell!"
"No, no, no! I'll tell you, I'll tell you!" Rey was ticklish, but more than that, he feared Rhaena running off to Draezell and pretending to cry. "Don't worry—Joffrey will get his wish."