A/N: Been a while since I last updated, but here is the next chapter for you guys. I meant to upload yesterday, but completely forgot, so sorry about that. Many thanks to Fierymatter for beta-ing the chapter.

Chapter XVII: War to End All Wars, Part V

1st POV:
En route to Sunspear

With the troops ready and well-rested, we made to march for Lemonwood, stronghold of House Dalt, some of House Martell's most ardent loyalists.

I couldn't help but feel proud seeing my armies march under the sword-arm banner of House Rada, all dressed in polished armour and wielding strong weapons of steel, and of the massive supply wagons accompanying them. It's really a far cry from the old poor-quality levies of Dorne, where men would be lucky they don't get gutted by a well-aimed spear.

House Ardera, which stood in the way of linking up my territory with the Three Turncoat Houses of Darrel, Lleryn and Qeffar, quickly surrendered after a few skirmishes, but I had the head of the house and his eldest son executed due to them pocketing spare change from taxes owed to their liege lord. I mean, bloody hell, how can I trust you to not betray me if you do something like this behind Meria's back?

The rest of House Ardera was exiled to Essos. Now that I have put a small garrison at Newwater, I am free to turn my attention forward.

"As you can see, the castle of Lemonwood lies just up ahead, Your Grace," Says Huang Xue, trotting forward on his horse next to mine.

The castle of Lemonwood stands in the heart of the town it is named after. As I suspected, it is well-fortified with tall walls and strong battlements well manned by troops. From a distance, I can even see a few mangonels and ballistae atop their ramparts. I'll give it to them, they've got a big strong castle to defend, and made the necessary preparations for such a defense. I daresay they might've prepared heavy crossbows for our armoured troops, too.

"That's not an easy castle to besiege," I comment, "So Shuren, how would you attack it?"

"Press forward with all might and speed, and spare no effort," Shuren begins, "Storm the provincial capital of Lemonwood and capture it while Erkin moves the fleet to blockade the Greenblood Reefs."

"Isn't that the same plan I proposed earlier?" I ask.

"Indeed. It is the only feasible plan that allows the shortest time possible to annex the Royal Demesne," Shuren affirms.

"Mm, then there's no need to debate any further. Have the men prepare the siege engines immediately, then launch the first barrels of wildfire into the castle," I order.

"As you command, Your Grace," Shuren replied.

The battle proceeded… well. Frankly, too well. I didn't expect House Dalt's troops to put up any fierce resistance, but the way they seemed to cower and rout before our guys was just fucking comical. Their officers? Don't get me started; they arrogantly boasted before our men of their bravado, but are now crying like xiao mei mei (little girls) at the end. How long did we take to conquer the castle? No longer than half a day.

Then again… it's not everyday they see someone lobbing barrages of wildfire and other flammables at their defences, and these guys are so damn green they all lou sai (shit) in their pants.

Other than some collateral damage, Lemonwood town is quite intact and ready for use. Battling the wildfire is another thing, but oh well; I'll just rebuild the castle even better. And it seems House Dalt unintentionally did their people a favour by forbidding the smallfolk from taking shelter within the castle. Not that I think they really cared more for their wellbeing than their own supplies and ability to defend, but it does mean the people don't hate me that much, since I kept damage to the town to a minimum and forbade my troops from harassing them in any measure.

Though there have been a few cases of misconduct and even direct defiance of my orders, which led to me ordering the culprits' executions and their heads displayed to my army. Some small-time nobles and a few of their grunts, nobody worthy of mention.

With that ugly business handled, I quickly appoint a local mayor to govern the town in my absence, and make for Sunspear across the Greenblood Reefs, where Erkin's navy already set an ironclad blockade. Maybe I'm being overcautious, but better to have assurance against foreign invasion than be hit where I least expect it.

And here is where I besiege Planky Town. The closest thing the Dornish have to a true city, it is protected by a neighbouring citadel of strong stone in true Rhoynish design, the characteristic Arabic-like domes and towers manning its parapets. That still doesn't stop the citadel from being conquered in just half a day, thanks to a combination of hard shock and internal sabotage to open its gates.

Planky Town is then promptly taken, its defenders terrified of my massive armies and fleets. I have no intentions of holding onto it, however. While I admit it's strategic position allows me to control the flow of ships into and out of the Greenblood River, and valuable trade routes with Essos, it's honestly not that feasible to defend it against a determined invasion.

As its name suggests, Planky Town is built mostly of wooden planks and comprised of ships, poleboats and barges lashed together by hempen rope. It's a huge fire hazard, so if Planky Town were attacked by fire, thousands of smallfolk would be consigned to a fiery grave. And to be able to control the Greenblood Reefs as a strategic location, it'd have to grow into a city encompassing the entirety of the Reefs - one citadel isn't enough for that.

So I order Planky Town to be put to the torch. The citadel will have to suffice as an outpost, and the thousands of people who called Planky Town their home will have to find a new home, or wait until I build a proper city at the Greenblood Reefs. A process which will take years.

Now it is a straight road to Sunspear. This time nothing is stopping me.

IIOII

3rd POV:
Sunspear

Meria Martell looked at the encroaching Rada army from afar, a sinking feeling in her gut at the sight of so many troops besieging the city itself. Not once in all of House Martell's hegemony over Dorne was it ever threatened by an invading army, and now at the hands of its own countrymen, it was to be the site of a bloodbath.

Its citizens had been evacuated behind the Winding Walls, and Sunspear stocked up on enough food supplies for its garrison to last a month, but the presence of more mouths to feed meant their supplies would last much shorter than anticipated.

"And to think my dear son Nymor lost to these… monsters," Meria growled, clenching her fists hard.

"Grandmother, the generals await your next orders."

Meria did not turn to face her granddaughter Deria, the young noblewoman looking concerned and worried. Past the prime of her youth, she remained a beautiful flower of the court whom men were repeatedly smitten with, and she carried herself with elegance and dignity. Long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, her slim and supple body clad in the finest of rose and gold Dornish silks. A circlet of gold with inset rubies crowned her head.

"What else is there to say? Defend Sunspear until reinforcements can come to us," Meria snapped, for she was utterly worn down, "There's nothing else we can do until then."

"Grandmother, the other generals are looking to you for guidance," Deria repeated, "They need you as a leader now, stronger than ever! I know you grieve over Father's death… but you have a duty to perform for your people!"

Meria began to laugh, a hollow, dispirited and utterly mirthless laugh, tinged by acute grief.

"I did my duty. All I received for my efforts is ten thousand dead troops and my dead son," Meria replied, her eyes cloudy and tainted.

Meria's hands clenched tightly, her eyes burning brightly with the fires of hatred.

"But I'll be damned if I let that boy show me up!" She declared.

Turning to Deria, she said, "Tell the generals this! We hold Sunspear for as long as we can!"

"As you command!" Deria said, her face bright with joy.

IIOII

The court of Sunspear – of Dorne itself – was gathered before Meria as she sat upon her throne, proud and dignified as Princess Nymeria of old. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Such were the words of her house, and she herself the embodiment of those words.

"Men and women of Dorne!" Meria bellowed, "We are truly at the end of our ropes. Thanks to the cunning wiles of this… this boy, Askari Rada, we lost ten thousand men to the devils at the Battle of Choryaic. My son was among them."

Deria scrutinized the reactions of the gathered loyalist nobles and sighed; most of the old veterans had died in the Battle of Choryaic, leaving behind a legion of loyal but blind fanatics with little to no skill. The few surviving veterans looked at the boisterous crowd of youngsters and silently shook their heads, pitying their enthusiasm.

"But I dare say we are not yet defeated!" Meria then declared, "The three Winding Walls of Sunspear shall defend our hearts and spirits! None of the Radas' siege engines are large enough to scale them! By the grace of the Seven, we shall outlast them until reinforcements shall come to relieve us from certain doom!"

The raucous cheers of the younglings concealed a pallor of death looming over Sunspear, as if Death himself anticipated an abundant harvest of souls to reap. Deria was no strategist, but she and the veterans could already see it – their certainty of defeat.

Not only did the Battle of Choryaic cost them the bulk of their military strength, their vassals were now too terrified of House Rada's legendary generals to sally forth with reinforcements, and so they cowered within their castles, unwilling to risk their lives for a lost cause.

Deria did her utmost to not shed tears, fearing it would betray her hopelessness and despair.

Is this what it means to fight, knowing that all your efforts are for naught? Knowing that this is the inescapable reality, and yet we still resist to the bitter end for our ideas and beliefs?

She walked away, unable to witness such cruel scenery any longer.

IIOII

1st POV:
Sunspear

The Winding Walls of Sunspear are as gargantuan as the stories describe them – massive bulwarks that are all but impossible to scale. Looming over the aptly described Shadow City like a giant's castle over mere ants, the mud huts are eternally eclipsed by the domineering glory of Princess Nymeria's castle, an unworthy testament to her descendants' power and hegemony.

Eternally… until our arrival, that is.

It didn't take long for us to form a full blockade on land and sea to cut off Sunspear from outside help.

I gather my inner circle inside the command tent.

"Gentlemen, we're now at a crossroads that will determine the future of our conquest of Dorne," I tell them, "Our victory over House Martell's a foregone conclusion, but how should we attack the city of Sunspear? Gentlemen, feel free to state your opinions."

Huang Xue is the first to speak. "Your Grace, as you yourself said, our victory is a foregone conclusion. As such, I believe attacking with brute force is the best way to go."

"Oh? I thought you'd prefer a more devious scheme, Shuren," I comment.

"Indeed, and in my opinion, it is the fastest way to defeat House Martell's remaining loyalists," Shuren notes.

"I must concur with Huang Xue, Your Grace," Says Saida, "What remains of House Martell's loyalists are nothing but blind devotees armed with more arrogance than skill. They will collapse like a pile of dirt against our forces."

"Good, good," I nod, "Then I take it we're in accord?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Saida bows.

"Alright then. Huang Xue, take charge of the siege," I order.

"Understood!" Huang Xue bows.

The Battle of Sunspear would become known as the Battle of the Setting Sun, since I'm pulling the curtain call upon the once-bright shining Sun of House Martell.

Battle begins with the loosing of our trebuchets. Stones and flammables slam against the Winding Walls and into the city blocks which they fail to defend. From both land and sea, Sunspear is battered by countless impurities that mar its once immaculate beauty. The city within, the palace and even the Dromund sustain terrible damage.

Collateral damage is inevitable, and while I do feel bad for hurting innocent civilians caught in the crossfire… that's just war. There are some lines that shouldn't be crossed, but if I go to war half-assed with such compunctions, I'd just be disrespecting both the people fighting for me and the people I'm fighting against.

It doesn't take long until Sunspear blazes alight with multiple green-coloured bonfires, the screams of the dying – soldier and smallfolk alike – filling my ears. I try to block out the sound and focus on the objective, but my mind just refuses to. Through some hasty innovation with the Water Wizards, Garen and his folk learn how to fire highly dense, fast and powerful shots of water from the sea against the city.

The bombardment continues for at least three days, causing severe damage to many parts of the city including the palace and the Dromund. A thunderous crack announces a sight that none who witnessed it would ever forget – the Dromund cracking apart and falling into the sea.

"That's going to cost a fortune to fix," Shuren comments.

"I know, but the whole city just screams impracticality," I reply, "Even Minas Tirith was designed far better than this shit excuse."

"Minas Tirith?" Asks Erkin, "What sort of alien name is that, Your Grace?"

"It's just from a book I read somewhere, nevermind."

The gates open. A frantic mob of people rush out like a horde of rats whose nests were being burned down. I could not see weapons and armour on them, and it becomes clear they are in a hurry to evacuate and distance themselves from the city with how they pay no heed to us whatsoever.

"Your Grace. Should we fire upon them?" A soldier asks.

"Saida?" I ask my spymaster in turn.

"No, they're civilians," Saida answers in a firm tone.

Nodding to her, I issue my next orders, "These are civilians running through the gates! Don't shoot them!"

Collateral damage to a city is one thing, but killing innocent civilians in the crossfire is another. No need to sully our victory with unnecessary casualties. I also see no Martell troops charging out the gates once the last of the runaway smallfolk clear the gates, heightening my suspicions.

Standing up dispassionately from my seat, I order the troops, "Charge! Kill every single soldier and nobleman that resists!"

With the smallfolk gone, there's nothing stopping my men from turning the city of Sunspear into a bloodbath, which is exactly what they do. The Martell men are finished and they know it, but they won't surrender, instead making us pay a bloody price for every inch we gain. That's where our tactics come in; archers embedded in troop formations riddle the enemy troops with arrows, and Hashashins do the same with crossbows from rooftops and alleyways or from within buildings, turning each stretch of contested pavement into a killzone.

Again, it isn't even a contest. Just like Planky Town, Sunspear turns out to be ridiculously easy to conquer. We push into the throne room, where House Martell's last loyal followers had gathered for their last struggle.

This would have been one of those epic last stands you'd see in fantasy novels, where the enemy valiantly fights off their enemies and makes the invaders pay a steep price in blood before they finally die. Their perseverance, tenacity and resolve are worthy of respect, but for the sake of a new Dorne, I have to step on those worthy traits, and I have no interest in fighting fairly. I wave my hand, and archers riddle the defenders with arrows and bolts. The last Martells drop dead.

"Your Grace, we've confirmed that Deria and her son Mors are dead, but we've yet to find Meria and her grandchildren," Saida informs me.

"Nymor was Meria's only son, yes? And Deria Nymor's only daughter?" I inquire.

"Yes, Your Grace," Saida confirms, "Though Deria has two daughters."

"Find them all," I order, "None of them leave."

"At once, Your Grace," Saida salutes.

As the bodies are cleared away and the troops filter out to secure the palace, I slowly walk towards the throne of House Martell, first crafted by Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar when she and her people completed their exodus from their former homeland. A dark, burnished artwork of teak, its backrest is shaped like a sunburst – the insignia of House Martell – casting a terribly dark shadow upon the stone steps, a shadow that slowly takes me into its welcoming embrace.

If I were none the wiser, I'd be ignorant of the heavily punishing weight it holds as I gently touch its armrest. I can only imagine the troubles Nymeria faced everyday in her court, having to deal with all manner of problematic courtiers with their Andalic values and political beliefs and agendas. I wonder what she'd feel seeing the Red Princes spit on all she worked for to preserve her people's heritage in their new home, how far her descendants fell and how mediocre they all turned out to be.

Would she be angry that I ended her children's dynasty, or happy that I'm reversing the decline of the Rhoynish? I don't know for sure. Maybe I never will.

"Your Grace…"

A slightly disturbed Saida approaches me.

"What's the matter, Saida?" I ask.

"We found Meria and her grandchildren, and Lady Deria…" Her words gradually trailing off.

"Lead me there," I order.

I soon see the cause for Saida's seeming lack of composure: Deria and her daughters lying upon the bed and Meria upon a chair, their eyes closed, their chests unmoving. The colour had left their skin long ago, replaced by a deathly pale complexion set upon their faces.

"According to the servants, Meria and Deria decided to poison themselves and the little girls when the gates fell and all the secret passageways were blockaded," Saida bites her lip, "They said… better to die than to live in shame."

…This is just the absolute worst. What kind of fucking motive justifies you murdering your own grandchildren!?

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my mind struggling to comprehend this whole thing.

"Take their bodies and prepare them for the Rhoynish funeral rites [1]," I order Saida, "It's the least I can do for them."

"Yes, Your Grace," Saida salutes.

House Martell is gone. Now I have to pick up the slack.

IIOII

A few days later…

Though the palace itself is in ruins and the whole city in need of a complete redesign, I still hold court in the ruined throne room, the sun shining in through several potholes where stones fell. The deathly silence makes it feel more like a tomb, one that I myself created in bloodshed and violence.

Erkin and Franklyn are absent from the throne room with a few other generals, having been dispatched to conquer the rest of eastern Dorne and completely secure all lands touched by the Greenblood River. Huang Xue remains as my strategist and right-hand man, and as a master logistician.

"Now that House Martell is gone, Dorne will undoubtedly be thrown into chaos as other Houses vie for power and supremacy," I begin, my voice reverberating among the ruined stones, "How shall we proceed from here? Gentlemen, feel free to state your opinions."

Huang Xue goes first. "Your Grace. With House Martell extinct, the other noble houses are like headless chickens – a pile of dirt against our forces. However our territory will stretch over some thousands of miles once our conquests are finished, and unlike our lands these new lands lack the infrastructure and systems we've implemented. Furthermore, if we are to launch a westwards expedition and tackle the might of the Reach, we must implement a new system to increase our food yields."

"With all due respect, Lord Shuren, aren't our current agricultural methods excellent as they are, including the new four-field crop rotation?"

Gascoyne Gonzaman [2], ruling Baron of Charnay and the province of Esgane, is one of the new nobles I promoted after the untimely demise of House Haro. Though slightly shorter and lither compared to other officials in my employ, he commands respect and authority by silence where others command such with loud, booming voices. His complexion is a darker shade of brown, his lips full and his narrow eyes complemented with broad eyebrows, and his posture and mannerisms reflect his cultured and confident demeanour.

"They are superior compared to all other agricultural methods throughout Westeros, yes, but we're talking massive scale here, and we need to quickly produce enough food to supply our troops and the people in our lands," I explain, "Furthermore, we just conquered those lands; they're not loyal to me and their young, able men will refuse to enlist. We can only count on our own men to do so in their stead."

Gascoyne nods silently, accepting my explanation.

"We also need to expand our infrastructure to support our logistics, both to integrate our new conquests and to supply our armies to more distant frontiers," he adds, "Honestly speaking, I have to ponder the lack of proper stone roads like our Ifirían Roads [3]."

"Those roads easily take years to build, Gascoyne, but I get your point," I state.

"We must not forget the Stepstones, Your Grace," Saida adds, "The pirates are no match for Erkin's navy, but if we leave them be they'll continually harass our shipping lines and trade routes with Essos."

"I don't really like how the Essosi regard us as barbarians, but they are rich trade partners," I state, "And I don't like it when pirates make a nuisance of themselves, especially on someone's payroll."

"You mean when a backer hires them, Your Grace?" Gascoyne inquires.

"Yup, exactly," I confirm.

"I concur with Saida on the pirates, but consolidation of our territory takes priority," Gascoyne continues, "We're stretched extremely thin, and our resources are not great; we need to spend at least six months to reorganize things before we expand our territory any further."

"I think the pirates must be dealt with first, Gascoyne," Saida counters, "We will need food imports to temporarily feed our people while the farming systems are being upgraded, and ships go much faster than wagon trains. If the pirates harass our shipping lines, they will prove a huge bother, and merchants will prove less willing to sell to us. Or they may try to sell their crops at higher prices."

"Trust the Essosi to snub us when it suits them most, Your Grace," Says Huang Xue, "In my time as a merchant, I've met callous merchants and nicely-dressed classless brigands of every denomination in that land, and every moment I spend is every moment I desire to be rid of those scoundrels."

"Too low of a calibre for a talented scholar like you, Shuren?" I quip.

"Even lower than that, Your Grace," Shuren says with a smile, "They love to argue and bicker like little children, always wanting the smallest things and throwing the biggest tantrums."

"Heh, from the looks of it, they're like overfed dogs fighting over the biggest bones while leaving the scraps to we poor little beggars," I comment before doing a questionable impersonation, "Woof, woof, woof."

My impersonation confuses many courtiers present, but I soon see Huang Xue and Saida sniggering at my joke, before the others join in the laughter, me included.

"In short, Your Grace, pay those grubby moneylenders no heed, and focus on your plans for Dorne," Shuren concludes.

"On that I agree with him," Saida affirms.

"As do I," Says Gascoyne.

"Alright then. Before we go into any actual planning for our governance of Dorne as a whole, we will first focus on these three things," I state, "Conquering along the Greenblood River, securing our supply lines, and quelling resistance. Once we've secured all of eastern Dorne, we'll reconvene in Arsalm to plan our path forward."

"Understood!" The court speaks as one.

Ah! Having a whole court loyal and ready to do your bidding… is this how all those in power felt, being able to lord over others and issue commands, knowing they'd obey and carry them out? It's really addicting, I admit.

But it's also extremely terrifying.

IIOII

3rd POV:
Red Mountains

Home to a significant number of former Kingly houses including Fowler, Manwoody and Dayne, the Red Mountains had been the traditional border separating Dorne from its neighbours. No one got into or out of Dorne on land except through these mountains, a natural hinterland home to rich deposits of mineral ores and other natural resources. House Yronwood, also a former Kingly house, enjoyed rich and fertile land upon which grew its trademark Yronwood trees, thanks to runoff rivers from the mountain tops.

Once it was the site of a bloodbath according to ancient annals, when the legendary Garth Greenhand, first King of the Reach and the Gardener Dynasty, led the First Men on a campaign of conquest towards Dorne. History repeated itself during King Garth XI's reign as part of a campaign of vengeance for the death of King Garth X, who was tied to his bedpost and had his throat slit by Dornish raiders.

The most powerful of Kingly Dynasties of Dorne were the Kings of the Torrentine, deriving their name from the Torrentine River that crossed the southwestern reaches of the Red Mountains, and House Yronwood who ruled as High Kings of Dorne. Even today, their power remained unmatched as noble houses despite losing their kingly status during Nymeria's War.

That, however, was to change with the arrival of the Reachmen army.

IIOII

The mountain slopes of the Red Mountains were painted a dark crimson, men fighting to the death as shieldwalls banged and battered against each other in a game of strength and stature. The Dornish had the advantage of homeground and fanatical zeal, but the Reachmen had the advantage of numbers and logistics, two advantages the Dornish chronically lacked in all their wars with the Stormlands and the Reach.

And while the mountains negated the advantages of cavalry for both sides, the dismounted Knights of the Reach were far superior than half-baked, poorly armoured Dornish levies, and Dorne's own knights were far too few to make a difference.

King Mern Gardener IX cleaved his way through the Dornish ranks, Thornbite drinking greedily of its ancestral enemies since antiquity, and its edge sang with freedom with every strike.

It was not long before the Dornish broke and fled to the cheers and jeers of the Reachmen, countless young nobles jubilant with victory and glory. Mern smiled with his brothers-in-arms; many promising heroes distinguished themselves in the battles for control of the Red Mountains, and for all their vaunted power as the Houses of the Torrentine [4] the Stone Dornish were beginning to lose badly. Their repeated harassment of the Reachmen's supply lines and defences did cause quite a bit of damage at the beginning, but the Reachmen had time on their side, and gradually they formulated the proper swatters for these little buzzing flies.

Harlan Tyrell, as Steward of Highgarden, managed the Reach's affairs in Mern's absence and their supply lines, and his competence ensured that they were always punctually resupplied without delay.

"My King, we've won a great battle this day!"

Brandyll Tarly was a giant of a man with the burly physique to match. Trained from young in the arts of combat, it did not take long until he proved himself a monstrously strong beast in battle, swings of his mace crushing the skulls and internal organs of unlucky opponents. The young boy even killed the son of Lord Albin III Manwoody of Kingsgrave, Albin IV. Now he stood under the hot Dornish sun, his polished armour glinting like silver, splattered with blood from head to toe.

"Indeed we have, Brandyll, but this is only the beginning," Mern reminded, "Only by securing complete control of the Red Mountains can we hope to conquer the rest of western Dorne, before we take the fight to Askari himself."

"I understand, My King, but what if he tries to raid our lands or ask his allies to coordinate an attack on our rear flank?" Brandyll enquired.

"He can't, Brandyll," Mern answered, "Our scouts report that the Rada rebels are rapidly gaining momentum and have managed to conquer Sunspear, and end House Martell. And House Martell is truly ended. All of them committed suicide rather than suffer the indignity of defeat and humiliation."

"A Great House ended by their own hands?" Brandyll gasped in shock, "I-I can't imagine…"

"I am a proud King, and like House Martell I'd rather die than surrender and live in humiliation," Mern admitted, "But to kill their own descendants with them? That's going too far. And they just handed eastern Dorne to them with their suicide. However, conquering such a huge stretch of land adds thousands of miles to their territory, and they'll need months to consolidate their gains before they can move west."

"That also applies to us, doesn't it?" Brandyll said, "I'm no master logistician, but I can't imagine integrating half a country being an easy job."

"It never is," Mern agreed.

"My liege! We've scored a big victory today!"

Theo Tyrell, Harlan's son and a young general in the making, was no less intrepid and valorous than young Brandyll, loyal and steadfast, but who also possessed an unfortunate love for pompousness and arrogance. His polished armour was needlessly ornamented with engravings and gold embossment, and his cape too immaculate for one who loved taking to the field. His black hair was shiny and smooth, his yellow eyes shining with youthful vigour, his square chin and sharp nose complementing his big forehead.

"Indeed, we have, young Theo," Said Mern, "You and your men performed admirably against the Dornish."

"It was no challenge; sure, their knights – especially the Daynes – were real fighters, but their levies were hardly capable in melee," Theo boasted, "If their levies perform this poorly, I have to ponder why they gave our ancestors such a hard time centuries ago."

"A wonder indeed, and one that perplexes me as well," Mern nodded, "In any case, get some rest and some food in your belly; the Red Mountains are only our first obstacle, from here on out is the barren Dornish desert with few oases."

"Yes, My Liege!" Theo saluted.

As Theo strode away, Brandyll could see Mern frowning and shaking his head.

"He's an intrepid and valorous warrior worthy of the chivalrous Knightly orders, but too arrogant for my liking. If he's not careful, he'll end his saga with a most humiliating defeat," Mern heaved a heavy sigh, "How I wish he shared his father's temperance."

"My King?" Asked Brandyll.

"Nevermind, let us return to camp," Said Mern, "We need to plot our next move."

"As you command," Brandyll saluted.

[1] Traditional Rhoynish funeral rites involve placing the dead body on a boat, clothed and prepared and laid on a bed of dry straw. After a prayer is uttered for the deceased, the boat is sent floating atop the water, and an archer fires a burning arrow upon the boat, setting it alight and cremating it before it sinks beneath the waves. By the time the boat capsizes, the body is fully cremated to ash.

[2] Gascoyne Gonzaman – Founder of House Gonzaman, Gascoyne would prove to be one of the most exceptional logisticians of his era, helping to take over many duties of Askari Rada and Huang Xue whenever the two of them had to leave Dorne on business. He was also one of Dorne's most talented strategists, studying under Huang Xue's tutelage, and many times he would prove his worth in future campaigns after Aegon's Conquest.

[3] Ifirían Roads – A term used to describe the incredibly durable stone-paved roads that became the gold standard of roads throughout Dorne and eventually, Westeros. A marvel of engineering, they helped project Rada power like never before in Dorne, and proved a crucial factor in consolidating his rule of the desert state; in event of an emergency, even the most isolated areas could be quickly resupplied or reinforced, lessening the need for large and costly garrisons at the frontier.

These roads are incredibly efficient, sharp turns and switchbacks preferred over sweeping curves to preserve their straight-arrow design, allowing for the most direct route to any destination.

For durability, the roads consist of a deep trench filled with multiple layers. The bottom layer consisted of levelled earth, mortar and sand topped with small stones; subsequent foundation layers were made of crushed rocks or gravel cemented with lime mortar; the surface layer was constructed with neatly arranged blocks made of gravel, pebbles, iron ore or hardened volcanic lava. Due to the increased demand of iron ore for military and civilian tools, however, Askari did not use any iron ore in the roads' construction, instead primarily using the other three. Hardened volcanic lava was especially prominent due to trade with Dragonstone.

Such roads were built with a crown and adjacent ditches for easy water drainage, keeping them dry even on rainy days and preventing impediment to movement.

A series of mile markers and signposts made said roads easy to navigate, and for the weary travellers, these roads were lined with waystations and roadside inns where they could take a break and rest or change horses for wagons, or even book a room for the night to sleep if they happened to be travelling afar.

Such a marvel of engineering was capable of lasting centuries without maintenance so long as no one pilfered them for cheap building materials, and being well-protected by armies of patrols they helped merchants quickly reach towns and cities, bringing rich trade to every corner of Dorne and uplifting countless Dornish out of poverty.

[4] Houses of the Torrentine – The Stone Dornish Houses of the Torrentine are home to countless ex-Kingly houses who once ruled royal dynasties of their own, the most prominent of them being House Dayne of Starfall who claims origins from the Dawn of Days. They are among the most powerful of Dornish houses in Western Dorne until the time of Aegon's Conquest, when a single invasion force by King Mern IX Gardener of the Reach brought them low.

A/N: So, I've noticed in many ASOIAF uplift fics that whenever Roman concrete is introduced, authors don't go into detail about how these roads are built; they just say they use concrete and that's it. I've also seen many complaints in reviews about it, and I frankly have to agree; if you say it's built by concrete, people automatically assume you're just paving one stretch of road with concrete, and that's very confusing.

Hence, I included a rather long segment at the end describing in detail how Roman roads – or in this case, Ifirían Roads – are constructed, using a combination of mortar and different stone types, dispelling any confusion.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter!