A/N: Just a quick note: The terms Salty, Sandy and Stony Dornish have been changed to Greenblood, Desert and Red Mountain Dornish respectively, as the former did not enter common usage until Daeron I's conquest of Dorne 160 years from this story's canon.
Chapter IX: Disposable Pawn
14 BC
Qorenport Keep
It was in the middle of the next morning that all the officials invited by Belandra Qeffar herself were present in the courtroom. Edryck Qeffar was absent, due to coming down with a sudden illness, as was Belandra herself and the envoys from Ifarahoy. Most notably, Guerin Asthar himself was absent presumably due to a sudden illness.
Many of the gathered merchants and nobles whispered among themselves, curious about the agenda of today's court meeting.
"Do you believe they're announcing Lady Belandra's marriage to Master Arin Rada?"
"Why wouldn't they? House Qeffar is barely staying afloat and a marriage alliance with House Rada is their best option."
"Bah, as if; so long as we curry favour with the new regime, nothing will change and everything will be alright."
"Where is Lord Guerin, by the way?"
"They say he came down due to sudden illness."
"Maybe an illness born from fear; something Arin whispered must have scared him witless."
"That is a first, I'll admit.
Eventually, Arin Rada himself emerged, his sabre sheathed at his side. However, the look in his eyes was like a wolf stalking its prey - hungry and ready to pounce.
"Master Arin!" Exclaimed one of the nobles as he came closer, "Why do you have your wea-"
Without warning, Arin unsheathed his sabre and cut down the noble, slitting his throat.
And at the top of his voice he bellowed, "Kill them all!"
Pandemonium ensued as from the shadows, troops emerged and began cutting them down, dyeing sword and dagger crimson with blood. Some tried to run for the exits, only for bowmen to fill them with arrows; some tried to crawl on the ground, severely wounded or missing a limb; some tried to fight back, drawing small stilettos of their own from folds in their clothes.
None escaped.
Within five minutes, all the invited nobles and merchants were cut down with no injuries to Arin's and House Qeffar's men.
"Good work, Mors," Said Arin.
"I strive to uphold my duty," Mors bowed, "Your next orders?"
"Work with Sainalia to round up every single one of the traitors' families," Arin ordered, "Execute all males above the age of ten-and-two and send the rest to the wall. Exile the women to Essos, never to return."
"By the will of Lady Belandra and Master Edryck," Mors saluted.
Arin took out a cloth to wipe his sabre clean, restoring its bright polished sheen. Seeing his reflection in the blade, he smiled.
IIOII
Outskirts of Qorenport
It was the dead of night, and most people had gone to sleep at this time. Hours after the brutal massacre carried out in Qorenport's courtroom, the families of the culprits were apprehended and meted out brutal justice in one afternoon. Droves of wagons were seen transporting little children and women out of the town to Gods knew where, and heads quickly decorated spikes outside Qorenport Keep.
Guerin Asthar, unwilling to stay any longer lest he join the condemned sycophants in death, quietly and quickly packed up his things and evacuated from the city with a handful of trusted guards under the cover of night slipping through one of checkpoints under the guise of a merchant cart, himself hidden among the cargo.
Once they reached a fair distance from the city walls, one of Guerin's men said, "You can come out now, My Lord. They can't see us from here."
Heaving an audible sigh of relief, Guerin emerged from the covered wagon a happy man, wiping beads of cold sweat from his face.
"Thank the Seven we're out of that deathtrap," Guerin breathed, "I swear, that monster Arin will be the death of us all! If he doesn't kill us today, he'll make sure to kill us another day. Does that monster ever sleep when his enemies still live?"
"Calm down, My Lord," Said one of the men, "We've managed to give them the slip, we'll do so again. Besides, we're near the place where Lord Falion said to meet up. Once we're there, we can safely escape."
"I'd gladly take a safe sanctuary any day over staying close to that demon," Guerin remarked.
It took at least ten minutes to reach the meeting place where Falion was supposed to arrive with an escort: A covered well built with bricks and wood panelling, the well itself dried up long ago.
"My Lord, Lord Falion and his escort are here," One of Guerin's men informed him.
Lord Falion Ardera of Tahor-Nai (Spring River) approached Guerin's entourage, escorted by a group of men armed to the teeth with an assortment of weapons. Falion Ardera, an aged and withered husk of a man, his cheeks gaunt and his eyes sunken in, his head completely bald and his skin bearing the pallor of death as if all life left him long ago.
Falion limped towards Guerin with a disarming smile, arms outstretched for a hug.
"Lord Falion…" Guerin asked, stopping outside of Falion's arm's reach, "Why have you brought so many men so heavily armed?"
"Oh, Guerin, you have always been a very sharp man," Falion started, his voice raspy and soft yet still audible, "It's truly sad, what happened to you. A noble on the rise to subsuming House Qeffar as the true master of Qorenport, only to have the tables turned on you in the blink of an eye. Oh, so sad, so sad."
"Lord Falion, while things were truly unfortunate, so long as I live I can turn the tables back on them," Guerin boasted, "However, I must also ask why you brought so many; surely you'd need only half of the men present for a simple escort?"
Falion heavily sighed, shaking his head, and his smile suddenly took more a sinister air.
Guerin immediately felt a chill down his spine. He and his men swiftly drew their weapons, moving to fight their way to freedom.
With but a wave of the hand from Falion, archers opened fire and felled a score of Guerin's retinue. The rest were cut down in a short and bloody melee, for Guerin's men were no battle-tested warriors and lacked the equipment for a decisive engagement, wearing only their clothes and wielding only swords.
"Remove the bodies and the bloodstains," Falion ordered, "No evidence remains."
"As you command, My Lord," His men echoed.
A fair distance from the abandoned well, a lone man watched using a Myrish far-eye, seeing the carnage that just transpired. Shaking his head, he mounted his horse and departed on a swift gallop.
IIOII
Yesterday…
"You also promised to tell us the real puppetmaster behind this whole affair," Arin reminded.
"Indeed, and I will uphold my end of the bargain."
Leaning in close, Edryck uttered his next words with severity befitting a dramatic novel.
"The ruling Patriarch of House Ardera, Falion."
Belandra quickly felt a shudder down her spine, and Astin quickly patted her back for comfort.
"Belandra?" Asked Arin.
"...He is a man I do not wish to meet," Belandra muttered, "When I first met him, he flashed me this harsh, menacing and evil smile that terrified me to the core, as if I was an enemy to be killed or a piece of meat to conquer."
Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead, and Belandra quickly wiped them away.
"For what reason does Falion do this?" Arin questioned.
"The death of his sons during Corentyn's Rebellion," Edryck answered, "After doing a little digging up, I learned that all of Falion's sons supported House Martell against Corentyn's rebellion and fought hard even at the cost of their lives. When his grandchildren were murdered, all evidence pointed to Oberyn Martell VII doing the deed, presumably for fear of Lord Falion gaining too much power with his string of victories, which earned much popular support among his people and the nobility."
Arin narrowed his eyes at this, as did Astin.
"And it was my House - House Qeffar under my grandfather Arthur - that killed his sons in battle, all five of them," Edryck finished, a heavy weight descending upon his shoulders.
Arin patted Edryck on the shoulder, "The sins of the past are a terrible burden, but we all have to grit our teeth and bear what comes our way. He's bearing a grudge because he needs to direct his anger somewhere; towards your House for the death of his sons; towards House Martell for the deaths of his grandchildren. In his grief and rage, he is hurting people in the process - he has to die to give you peace."
Edryck nodded solemnly, "Yes, he has to die. For that reason, I need your help."
"What do you need me to do?" Asked Arin.
"What you do best," Answered Edryck, "Do what it takes to expose Falion's wrongdoings and end House Qeffar's plight. I give you express permission to use my men under Mors for this purpose."
Arin nodded, and said, "Then tomorrow, invite all of Guerin's sycophants for a court meeting. I will spring a trap upon then and rid them all from the face of the world."
"Guerin will suspect something amiss, especially after whatever you told him earlier," Edryck stated.
"I know," Said Arin, "I also know that if Falion is the kind of person I believe him to be, he will save us the trouble and get rid of Guerin for us."
"Wait, I thought you'd be the one to get rid of-oh… Oh."
"Brother?" Asked Belandra.
"You're planning to use Falion's murder of Guerin to gain a cause of war against him, aren't you?" Edryck inquired.
Silent communication passed between them as they exchanged glances.
"But then, why not do the same process as before when you dealt with House Rada's neighbours?" Asked Belandra.
"Because if I do that again, I'll ruffle too many feathers," Arin answered.
"Master Arin is correct," Astin spoke up, "I'm no political player, but even I know that House Martell is highly suspicious of you."
"Exactly," Arin nodded, "For this reason, I need House Martell to give me permission to wage war on House Ardera."
"I honestly cannot trust House Martell at this point," Edryck stated.
"Trust means nothing; it's the upholding of House Martell's authority that matters here," Said Arin.