The Silverblood Tower, Hall of Five Fingers.
The hall was small, encircled by five black pillars surrounding a long table. With no windows, the room relied on candlelight, the flickering flames illuminating each face at the table. Draezell sat at the head, hands clasped under his chin, silently organizing the tasks that lay ahead. Five gemstones, each shaped like a finger and of differing colors, were placed at various positions along the table, waiting for their representatives to arrive.
Aslan Rondell, a striking young man with silver hair, clad in robes of silver and crimson, quietly approached the ruby-red gemstone. He lit the candelabrum beside his seat, the flickering light illuminating the sigil on his chest: three silver ouroboros encircling a silver lion's head against a red backdrop. As one of Draezell's key generals, known as the Bloodfinger, a sworn brother, and a hereditary vassal of House Vaelarys, Aslan held an esteemed position. After the subjugation of Dorne, House Rondell was granted vast lands in Yronwood Valley. Aslan had constructed two castles there: Silver Lion Keep as his primary stronghold and Ouroboros Keep as a military fortress. However, both were currently managed by stewards appointed by Draezell, as Aslan remained dedicated to serving at Dragon's Nest.
Draezell's current attendants, fifteen-year-old black-haired Revil Haydon, Lord of Stonebridge, and fourteen-year-old Quentyn Manwoody, Lord of KingsGrave, swiftly poured Aslan's wine and served him delicacies such as fried nuts and small cakes. Once their tasks were complete, the two youths retreated into the shadows, ready to prepare refreshments for the next arriving member of the Five Fingers.
"Is Hoffa going to be late too?" Aslan chuckled as he noticed he was the only one present. In his experience, Hoffa was always the first to arrive and the last to leave meetings. But today, it seemed something was amiss — none of the others had arrived either.
"Hoffa and Tigarro went to await a reply from Tass Isle," Draezell explained, taking a sip of the pale wine Revil had poured for him. "Sebastian has blockaded Brandyport. Those brainless fools would only be able to escape through the Stormlands."
"Your Grace, if you ask me, we should have sent Argo and his khalasar out immediately," Aslan grumbled, still furious that anyone would dare attempt dragon theft near Dragonstone. "The Dothraki ride swiftly. By the time the Stormland lords reacted, we could have captured them already." He sipped his wine, clearly dissatisfied.
"And then what?" Draezell replied with a smile. "Should I let Borros camp out at Summerfield with his two daughters, scheming every day to wash them clean and send them to Aegon's bed? Or crying in my hall, accusing us of bullying House Baratheon? I can't exactly order Vermithor to incinerate all the Stormland nobles with dragonfire, can I?"
"Sigh." Aslan knew such actions were unrealistic and could only let out a frustrated sigh. He intended to report the state of the Silverblood army once the others arrived. For now, the Hall of Five Fingers fell silent, save for the whispered conversations of the two young attendants. However, realizing the room had gone quiet, the boys quickly covered their mouths, ceasing their chatter.
"You two should discuss your own affairs," Draezell remarked, his gaze falling on the pair. Memories of his previous attendant, Jacaerys, came unbidden to his mind. 'If only Jacaerys were still here... No, best not to dwell on the past.'
The boys feigned busyness — Quentyn sorting plates and cups, while Revil poured wine and arranged snacks on each plate.
Just then, the door to the Hall of Five Fingers creaked open. Black-haired, golden-eyed Hoffa entered first, taking his place beside the iron-colored gemstone. "Your Grace, I am late. Please punish me."
"The meeting only starts once everyone is here. Sit down; you are not late," Draezell said with a touch of exasperation. If he didn't clarify, Hoffa would insist on being punished, and the meeting would never proceed.
Hoffa nodded with military precision, lighting the candelabrum beside his seat and sitting upright. The light revealed his sigil: a golden hand gripping a gold-scaled balance on a silver field. A loyal retainer of Draezell, Hoffa had been granted a large swath of the Reach after the Dance of the Dragons. He left his younger brother, Adams Lawkeeper, to manage the land and build a fortress there, Balance Keep, while he remained by Draezell's side as his trusted advisor and guard.
Following Hoffa were Sebastian Pyrebane and Tigarro Dargaleon.
Sebastian, whose sigil featured twisted flames on a deep blue field, casually lit the candelabrum beside the golden-colored gemstone. As he sat, he nodded to Revil, who served him wine and food with practiced efficiency.
Tigarro sat quietly to the side, the intricate coat of arms on his chest featuring a chalice, a winged serpent, and a teardrop — a symbol of his house. He and the House Dargaleon were now among Draezell's greatest bannermen. The Pyrebane family had been granted the fiefdom of Starshuttle City, where the now-aged Gonzo Pyrebane held the title of Lord. Meanwhile, the Dargaleon family was awarded the former Reach stronghold of Hightower. On its ruins, Tigarro had begun constructing a new, grander castle, which he named Tearstone.
As Rey shut the door and lit the candelabra beside the silver ring token, the five candles illuminated the long table carved with detailed maps of Westeros and Essos.
"Good, everyone's here," Draezell said, scanning the five gathered before him. He gestured for the servants to leave before intertwining his fingers under his chin. "Tigarro, you speak first."
Tigarro nodded, placing his obsidian finger token into a groove on the table. A faint glow emanated from the token, signaling his turn to speak. "Your Grace, Lord Evenstar of Tarth has responded. He investigated every vessel passing through the port but found no sign of silver-haired, purple-eyed individuals. There were a few Lysene and Volantene merchant ships with sailors fitting that description, but their captains claimed they were longtime crewmembers. These ships had only recently docked."
"Then those dragon thieves must be on one of those ships," Hoffa interjected. "Your Grace, I request permission for Lord Aslan to speak." Hoffa glanced at Aslan, seeking Draezell's approval to allow Aslan to mobilize the Silver Fleet to intercept the merchant ships.
"Your Grace, I advise patience," Tigarro said, signaling Hoffa to calm down. He explained methodically, "Ships departing from Tarth take different routes to various ports. We only need to track those heading toward Dragonstone to find the thieves. There's no need to deploy the Silver Fleet prematurely. Besides, Your Grace has promised to use Vermithor for the pursuit. Ravens are faster than ships, and dragons are faster than ravens. Furthermore, someone has already set sail to track them."
"Who?" Aslan asked curiously, surprised, as there had been no recorded fleet movements.
"The knight recently knighted by Valar... what's his name again? Tom?" Rey pondered aloud. "He and his small team took leave and volunteered to pursue the thieves."
"Where did they get a ship?" Aslan was still puzzled.
"One of his cavalrymen, Dennis, has a wife who's a ship captain — owns several ships, in fact," Tigarro explained. "Among them is a large sailing ship named Ratcatcher, which was originally an old, flat-bottomed merchant ship. This woman, Marlda of Plankytown, sold her three larger vessels after arriving at Brandyport and purchased a newly-built sailing ship from the shipyard — Ratcatcher. She kept the Ratcatcher name. It's an excellent fast ship. I've also assigned them a maester's assistant with ravens. The moment they find the thieves, we'll be informed immediately."
"When they return, I'll reward them," Draezell nodded. "Continue, Tigarro. Any other reports?"
"The First Magister of Lys, Lysandro Rogare, is en route to Brandyport with his family," Tigarro said calmly. "Based on the current intelligence, they're likely coming to negotiate terms regarding their war with the Iron Islands. Nine days ago, Dalton Greyjoy sacked six of Lys's vassal towns, burning the coastal mangroves and villages. Additionally, Sharako Lohar's fleet was defeated by the Iron Fleet, though their overall losses were minor."
"When are they expected to arrive?" Draezell calculated. At the speed of a swift ship, the Lysene vessel would likely arrive after the scheduled Kingsguard selection.
"Rest assured, Your Grace, my men have already identified their ship," Tigarro replied. "They'll arrive after the time you've allotted."
Draezell studied Tigarro, knowing his old friend concealed much beneath his composed exterior. Tigarro's family had once been prominent bankers in Lys before the Rogare family outmaneuvered them, leading to Tigarro's downfall and near enslavement in Lys.
However, Tigarro had learned to view such matters pragmatically. By his account, he now focused on extracting every ounce of value from the Rogare family for the benefit of the Vaelarys dynasty.
When Tigarro concluded, he retrieved his obsidian finger token. Next, Rey placed his pure silver finger token into the groove, which began to glow softly. Rey's report concerned the dragon pit and the dragons.
"Brother, my observations over the past few months are complete," Rey said, producing a thick ledger. "The detailed findings are all recorded here, but I do have some good news."
"If it's good news, don't keep me waiting!" Draezell straightened, a smile on his face.
"Candlelight has laid an egg."