Chapter 42: Knighthood
Dragonfire is always the most convincing weapon on the battlefield. Not a single warship from the Three Daughters escaped; they were all consumed by the sea of fire. The entire sea area boiled under the Dragon's scorching, forcing the Varezes fleet itself to quickly withdraw from the burning waters.
The Dragon slowly descended. The three-hundred-oared warship could barely bear the weight of the Bronze Fury. It lowered its neck, allowing Prince Dragonzel to climb down from its head.
Prince Dragonzel carefully unbuckled the Dragon saddle's strap and slowly climbed over Vermithor's thick, bone-spurred neck. He gently stroked the dragon's head a few times before leaping down from its skull. He landed steadily on the deck of the Azure Serpent.
The recent battle had riddled the ship's deck with holes, but it remained largely intact.
Gonsor Fire-Bringer knelt on one knee, placing his hand over his chest.
"Your Highness, I have not failed in my mission. In this battle, Captain Miles and his grandson Samwell performed exceptionally. I therefore request that Your Highness grant them your favor."
Prince Dragonzel looked toward Samwell, who had just arrived from another ship and had not even had time to properly dress himself. Beside him stood the visibly anxious Captain Miles Stone.
Samwell was a thin, tall youth, appearing no older than seventeen or eighteen. His face was covered in acne. Although his upper body was not bulky, it possessed clear and defined muscle lines. His short blond hair was neat, suggesting that with a little grooming he would grow into a handsome young man.
Prince Dragonzel smiled.
"It is a family tradition to reward merit. Captain Miles, Samwell, in the name of Prince Dragonzel of House Varezes, I command you to kneel."
Captain Miles' eyes widened instantly. Seeing that his grandson had not reacted yet, he quickly kicked the foolish boy's leg and dragged him down to kneel before the prince.
"Captain Miles, you have fought for House Varezes with your own ship and achieved remarkable merit in this battle. If I remember correctly, the Sea Snake has already knighted you, has he not?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Captain Miles did not dare lift his head.
"Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, knighted me when I was nineteen, but he did not grant me land or income."
Prince Dragonzel nodded.
"I grant you the surname Hermosa. In High Valyrian it carries the meaning of seafarer. Ser Miles Hermosa, do you accept the name I bestow upon you?"
"This is my supreme honor, Your Highness."
Captain Miles burst into tears of joy.
A brand-new surname did not merely signify status—it meant that his descendants would truly enter the ranks of the nobility. It meant they could establish their own house without the shame of bastardy and would no longer be scorned by the greater noble houses.
"Samwell of House Hermosa."
Prince Dragonzel drew Silver Blood, placing the longsword lightly upon the young man's right shoulder.
He moved with great care, for Silver Blood was so sharp that even a careless touch could draw blood.
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave."
Samwell stared at the prince in astonishment, forgetting even to lower his head.
Prince Dragonzel smiled and moved the blade to his left shoulder.
"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."
The sword returned to the right shoulder.
"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the weak and the innocent."
Silver Blood lightly touched his left shoulder again.
"In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women."
"In the name of the Smith, I charge you to stand against every enemy."
"In the name of the Crone, I charge you to keep wisdom in your heart."
"In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to bring death to the wicked and to your foes."
Seven invocations, one for each of the Seven Gods.
"I knight you, Ser Samwell of House Hermosa. Your courage has proven your worth. 'Axe' Sam, Dorne shall tremble at your name."
Samwell stared blankly as Prince Dragonzel leapt elegantly back onto Vermithor's lowered head and climbed once more into the dragon saddle.
He did not even notice the envious gazes surrounding him.
Only a single thought echoed in his mind.
I… I am a knight?
It was not until the cries of "Axe Sam! Axe Sam!" rose across the fleet—growing louder and louder until they formed a rolling wave—that he finally snapped back to reality.
He saw his tearful grandfather and the excited Gonsor Fire-Bringer standing beside him.
"Congratulations, little Sam. When we return, go directly to Lord Lynn. He will arrange for you to serve His Highness personally. Do well—I have high hopes for you."
"Huh?"
Meanwhile, Storm's End.
Lord Paramount Boremund Baratheon sat heavily in his chair, a thick bearskin blanket covering his legs.
His son, the hot-tempered Borros Baratheon, paced restlessly across the great hall.
"Borros, stop pacing. You're making me dizzy."
"Father, that little prince did not even call for us when he fought the Dornish! I admit his lands are granted directly by the Crown, but they lie within the Stormlands. He should at least have informed us. Does he think House Baratheon are cowards when it comes to fighting the Dornish?"
"Foolish boy."
Boremund looked at his son with deep disappointment.
"If it were merely Prince Dragonzel leading House Tarth and the marcher lords in retaliation, we could call it a border reprisal against House Uller and House Toland. But if House Baratheon marches as Lords Paramount of the Stormlands, it becomes another Dornish War. And the King will never allow that."
"But it has already begun!"
Borros strode forward angrily.
"Dorne is tearing itself apart! House Yronwood is fighting House Fowler. House Dayne sits watching. House Uller, House Toland, House Jordayne, and others march north against the little prince. Our men have already crossed into Dornish lands and carved out a foothold. This is a once-in-a-generation chance for revenge!"
"And there are two Dragonriders fighting on our side—more than in most wars before!"
"Precisely because we have not yet intervened," Boremund replied calmly, "House Martell has restrained itself. The moment the Stormlands officially enters the war, the Martells will unite all of Dorne under one banner, and we will be dragged into a long and bloody war of conquest."
Borros threw up his hands in frustration.
"Fine! If that is the case, I will go myself without an army! I have four daughters. I'll take them all with me. Father, you cannot stop me this time. At worst, I will disguise myself as a hedge knight. How can I miss a war with Dorne?"
"You think no one recognizes your face?" Boremund laughed bitterly.
"The heir to Storm's End pretending to be a hedge knight is hardly subtle. It would give the Martells the very excuse they need. And why bring your daughters? Do you plan to throw them into the prince's bed? Have you lost your senses?"
"I am perfectly sane."
Borros clenched his fists.
"The prince and the other dragonrider are both unmarried. A Baratheon marriage would be an excellent match."
He looked toward the storm-lashed windows of Storm's End.
"Dorne… and dragons."
"I intend to claim them both."
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