The voyage from Claw Isle to Gulltown was calmer than Daemon expected. The Celtigar three-masted ship Red Claw sailed smoothly on the azure waves of Blackwater Bay. The Cannibal and Dreamfyre circled occasionally above the ship, their massive shadows cast on the sea surface, startling flocks of seagulls.
Corlin Celtigar stood by the gunwale, one hand on the railing, the other holding a Myrish lens, occasionally introducing the islands along the way to Daemon. "Prince, past that small island ahead, and we'll be close to Gulltown."
Corlin pointed to a barren islet on the left. "Not many people on the islands here, just a few fishermen's huts. But the Three Sisters over there are lively. Historically, House Stark and House Arryn fought for thousands of years over them."
Daemon looked in the direction he pointed. Due to distance, he could only see the interweaving of land and sea horizon. Historically, the Three Sisters were like three scattered pearls inlaid between the Narrow Sea and the Bite.
"I've heard of them," he said lightly. "The islanders have a reputation for fickleness, loyal only to themselves. The Eyrie can barely command them. In the eyes of Septons, they are as greedy and sinful as beasts."
Gael, standing aside, added quietly, "Father only just dealt with their disputes with the Vale and the North last year."
"Yes." Corlin nodded, a flash of admiration in his eyes. "His Grace's methods were indeed brilliant. But speaking of methods, Gulltown ahead is the true 'treasure land'."
He paused, a hint of pride in his tone. "Gulltown is the main port of the Vale, ruled by House Grafton. Our House Celtigar once intermarried with a previous Lord Grafton—my great-aunt Prudence Celtigar married the Lord back then, so the two families are fairly close."
Gael walked to Daemon's side. Sea breeze lifted her silver hair, contrasting beautifully with Dreamfyre's pale blue scales. "Is House Grafton famous?"
"In the Vale, yes." Corlin laughed. "Their sigil is a yellow burning tower on a black pile upon a flame-red field. It's said to symbolize their merit in seizing Gulltown from the First Men." He pointed to the coastline becoming clearer in the distance. "Look, that is the Gulltown lighthouse. You can see it from miles away."
Daemon raised his lens. A huge stone tower stood by the Bay of Crabs, the flame at its top flickering in the sun like an unextinguished star.
The outline of the town unfolded behind the tower. Grey walls wound along the coast, and countless ships were moored in the harbor, masts dense as a forest.
"Truly lively," Mycah Rivers sighed. He stood beside Rayford Rosby, and the two were discussing the warships in the harbor.
"It's said Gulltown is one of the five major cities of Westeros, comparable in scale to White Harbor." Rayford added, his gaze drawn to a group of merchant ships from Braavos. "The tailors here are famous for their craft; even nobles from King's Landing like to come here for custom clothes."
Rupert Crabb was more interested in the fortifications on the walls. "These walls look sturdy, much stronger than the fences of our Crabb land."
Daemon said nothing. His gaze landed on a white building deep in the town. Corlin told him it was the Motherhouse of Maris, located on a small island just outside the harbor.
"Many nobles send their bastard daughters there to be raised." Corlin's voice lowered. "For example, Alys Turnberry gave birth there."
Daemon recalled that scandal during King Jaehaerys's reign. The absurdities of Alys Turnberry and Princess Saera had caused quite a stir. He withdrew his gaze, thinking to himself: It seems this city is far more complex than it appears on the surface.
When the Red Claw sailed into the sheltered harbor of Gulltown, the docks were already packed with people welcoming them.
At the front was a tall middle-aged man wearing a red cloak embroidered with the burning tower sigil—presumably Lord Colton Grafton.
Behind him followed a group of nobles, including gorgeously dressed lords, plainly dressed septons, and several wealthy-looking merchants with bulging purses at their waists.
"Prince Daemon, Princess Gael, welcome to Gulltown!" Lord Grafton bowed. His voice was resonant, carrying the roughness of sea wind. "I am the Lord of Gulltown, Colton Grafton. To welcome the royal blood of Targaryen is an honor for our entire town."
"You are too polite, my Lord." Daemon stepped forward and shook his hand. "We apologize for the intrusion."
"Please, Prince." Lord Grafton stepped aside to lead the way. "A humble feast has been prepared to wash the dust of the journey from the Prince and Princess."
The streets of Gulltown were cleaner than Daemon imagined.
The flagstone roads were worn smooth by sea waves. Houses on both sides were mostly stone-built with red tile roofs. Windows were inlaid with colored glass, sunlight casting dappled colorful shadows on the ground through them.
Pedestrians on the street were endless—porters carrying goods, merchants in silk, knights leading horses, and children chasing and playing.
Seeing Daemon's group, they stopped one after another, looking on curiously with eyes full of both awe and curiosity.
"Though not as prosperous as King's Landing, our Gulltown is a lively place," Lord Grafton introduced with a smile. "Our fishermen bring in the freshest sea fish every day, and the oatcakes made by our bakers are praised even by Lord Rodrik Arryn."
Daemon nodded, his gaze drawn to a towering spire. The tower was entirely white, topped with sculptures of countless seagulls, as if ready to take flight at any moment. "That is?"
"The Gull Tower," Lord Grafton said proudly. "It is the landmark of our Gulltown. Standing at the top, you can see the entire scenery of the Bay of Crabs."
The dinner was held in Lord Grafton's castle. The castle wasn't grand, but it was exquisite. Many oil paintings depicting naval battles hung on the walls, said to be scenes of House Grafton's ancestors fighting the First Men.
The long table was filled with seafood—grilled lobster, stewed crab, smoked cod, and various fruits and wines.
"Prince, try this." Lord Grafton served Daemon a piece of crab meat. "This is the red crab, a specialty of our Bay of Crabs. The taste is much fresher than elsewhere."
Daemon tasted it. Indeed, the meat was tender and carried a hint of sweetness. "Truly excellent."
"The Prince flatters us." Lord Grafton laughed. "Compared to food, I want to hear more about the Prince's heroic deeds on Crackclaw Point. I heard you repelled the wildlings single-handedly?"
Daemon smiled and simply recounted the battle at the Whispers, not embellishing his own contribution too much, but repeatedly mentioning the bravery of Rupert, Bernarr Brune, and others.
Rupert lowered his head in embarrassment, while Rayford and Mycah exchanged smiles.
Gael and Mysaria sat nearby, talking in whispers.
Gael was very interested in a honey cake on the table, so Mysaria helped her get a few more pieces.
Lord Grafton's wife was a gentle lady. She occasionally served food to Gael and Mysaria, asking if their voyage was tiring.
The atmosphere at dinner was harmonious.
Lord Grafton wasn't overly fawning like Bartimos, nor did he probe Daemon's ambitions. He was just like an ordinary lord, warmly hosting guests from afar.
He talked about Gulltown's trade, interactions with the Free Cities, and the customs of the Vale, his words full of love for this land.
"Tomorrow, I will take the Prince to tour our Gulltown," Lord Grafton proposed. "See our shipyard, and the Motherhouse of Maris."
Daemon nodded in agreement. "Alright, I would like to see them."
Early the next morning, Lord Grafton set out with Daemon's group.
They first visited the shipyard, where several three-masted galleons were under construction. Craftsmen busied themselves among them, the sound of hammers hitting planks rising and falling.
"These ships are to be sold to Braavos and Pentos," Lord Grafton explained. "Our Gulltown's shipbuilding technology is among the best in the Seven Kingdoms."
Daemon looked at the ships nearing completion, sighing inwardly: No wonder House Velaryon and House Celtigar are so wealthy; the ocean is indeed an inexhaustible treasure trove.
Afterward, they arrived at the Motherhouse of Maris. The motherhouse sat on a small island connected to the mainland by a stone bridge.
The white building shone in the sun, surrounded by lavender fields, the scent pleasant.
A group of septas in white robes were working in the yard. Seeing Daemon's group, they stopped their work and bowed.
"This is the Motherhouse of Maris," Lord Grafton introduced. "Established by Septa Maris, one of the Seven Speakers. It has a history of decades. Many noble bastard daughters grow up here."
Daemon thought of Alys Turnberry, the girl who was led astray by Princess Saera and eventually gave birth here.
He looked at the calm faces of the septas, feeling a bit emotional: Perhaps for these bastard daughters, this is a decent place to end up.
An elderly septa received them, leading them to visit the sept and living quarters.
Statues of the Seven were enshrined in the sept, candlelight flickering solemnly.
The living quarters were simple but tidy, each room furnished with a bed and a desk.
"Girls here learn not only prayer but also sewing and reading," the old septa explained. "When they grow up, they can choose to become septas or marry commoners and start a new life."
Gael looked at the girls reading, a trace of sympathy in her eyes. Mysaria silently made the sign of the seven-pointed star on her chest, praying for them.
When they left the Motherhouse of Maris, it was noon. The sun became scorching, and the sea breeze brought a hint of coolness.
Daemon stood on the stone bridge, looking back at the white building. He suddenly felt that although this city was lively, it also had an unknown tranquility.
"Next, let's go see the Gull Tower," Lord Grafton proposed.
Daemon nodded, following him toward the tower. He knew there were more people and things waiting for him to understand. And the story of Gulltown had only just begun.
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