The night was as dark as ink, and the current cold weather was particularly suitable for eating hot pot mutton.
Rhaegar had a copper pot set up, and he chatted with Oberyn as they swished the mutton in the broth.
The mutton was sliced extremely thin, top-quality meat from the Dothraki Sea, and the fine wine was already in place—the famous Dornish summer red, with an intoxicating aroma.
Hot pot mutton was a different experience from grilled meat.
There were also dipping sauces made of wild onions, chili, pepper, lemon juice, onions, garlic sauce, and other ingredients.
"Winter is coming, Prince Oberyn!" Rhaegar said.
In the copper pot, the water boiled and the meat was ready, the mutton delicious and fresh.
"I have also felt the change in temperature; the temperature has dropped somewhat.
But because the continent of Essos is far from the Land of Always Winter, I feel the temperature change is not as extreme as it is in our Westeros."
The Red Viper had also learned the news from ravens.
"When winter comes, it is perilous everywhere! Dorne is a bit better, after all, the latitude is low!"
Rhaegar had experienced the climate of Dorne, where it was scorching hot.
"Dorne and the North, their climates are both forsaken by the gods; one is too hot, the other too cold. If only they could neutralize each other!"
Oberyn picked up a piece of mutton; it was indeed good.
This method of eating was quite delicious.
"The Prince promised the Golden Company land and fiefs on the other side of the Narrow Sea? Is this true?"
Oberyn drank a cup of summer red and asked suddenly.
"Naturally it is true, Prince! My word is always worth its weight in gold.
We need people to live in the plains of Pentos, the Andals, or the Disputed Lands to monitor the movements of the several Free Cities for me; this is called interlocking, a combination of offense and defense.
The Golden Company, after all, are originally Westerosi with blood ties; their loyalty is always much stronger than that of the people of Pentos or Braavos.
Furthermore, the Andals and the remnants on the Andals are of the same culture and race, so why not?"
Rhaegar told Oberyn straightforwardly.
The struggle is only the first step; the key lies in the second step, the enfeoffment, and the cake is also very important to me.
In the current world, population density is indeed low, so there is no need to worry about redundant officials or soldiers; the lands of Westeros cannot even be filled, and it is hard to leave one's homeland.
But who would complain about having too little land? Most of these lands on the other side of the Narrow Sea are fertile, best suited for farming.
When the time comes, as long as the gates for recruitment are opened, there will still be people willing to take them.
It is merely a matter of establishing property rights for large tracts of land.
The Iron Throne wants the city-states to obtain commercial tax revenue, while the remaining plots can be divided and bestowed as rewards.
"That is truly a crazy undertaking, provided that your commands and your power can reach throughout Essos?"
Oberyn thought about it; this was truly a major event.
"You wouldn't also want a fiefdom, would you?"
Rhaegar looked at Oberyn and understood the implication.
This guy wasn't playing riddles with him; he himself wanted land.
The value of winning over Oberyn was certainly much higher than that of the Golden Company, that group of ancestral wanderers.
"I am a Prince of Dorne, of noble status, and barely a kinsman of House Targaryen; can I not ask the Prince for a fiefdom?"
Oberyn also laughed.
To be enfeoffed ten thousand miles away, this was indeed a way to bring honor to one's ancestors.
A second son actually has no fiefdom; at best, he might be given a small piece of land, but that is rare.
Or he stays without separating from the family, serving as a guard and advisor to his elder brother.
After a few generations, he would disappear and become a minor branch.
Lannisport is full of minor relatives of the main Lannister line, mongrel lions.
Another famous Dornish dish arrived on the table: roasted snake and roasted spicy strips.
The seasoning for the specialty Dornish grilled snake meat uses mustard seeds and dragon-fire peppers mixed together, sometimes even with a drop of venom added.
"Blood relations are naturally key, respecting one's kin is paramount.
But now it is you who has merit; help me garrison Ghoyan Drohe, and in the future, I will bestow upon you a lordship of ten thousand households in Essos!"
Rhaegar laughed; the Dornish spicy strips were indeed hot.
These lands were not his yet, but sooner or later he would seize them, so writing a few more checks didn't matter.
Moreover, regarding the Red Viper, he did indeed have the intention of buying his loyalty; talent is hard to come by.
The key was the Red Viper's own thoughts, whether he was willing to take the risk.
"From the Andals and the plains of Pentos to the ruined city-states of the Rhoyne River basin, and then to the Disputed Lands or even further to the Dothraki Sea.
The land is fertile and vast; you can first choose a piece you have your eye on!
Sooner or later they will all belong to me; I want the cities, and much of the land outside will be gifted to meritorious soldiers."
Rhaegar started by painting a picture; although the plan to conquer the continent of Essos had not been launched on a large scale, painting a picture was necessary.
"But if I really choose a plot of land and a castle here, then in the future I will be separated from Doran. I would not be of House Martell of Sunspear, I would be the founder of the House Martell of Essos!"
Oberyn spoke of this crazy future, a path he had never thought of before.
"Why not? Just like House Fossoway, there are green apples and red apples; both are of the Fossoway bloodline!"
Rhaegar encouraged Oberyn.
The green apple branch looked down on the red apple knights for being too pathetic; when the family knights went to grovel before Brightflame during the Trial of Seven, they angrily established their own branch.
"Then I will have to choose a fertile piece of land when the time comes! All of this, sometimes it feels like a dream!"
Oberyn's eyes shone brightly; contemplating the beautiful future, he began to eat heartily.
The Dornish-style roasted spicy strips were indeed good, as passionate as the Dornish people.
Rhaegar wasn't destroying brotherly bonds either; the Red Viper, Oberyn, was inherently talkative and sharp-tongued. The Red Viper obeyed Doran out of duty and family, but at his core, he might not necessarily be submissive.
People with talent have ambition; they are all thorny.
Oberyn's personal charisma and popularity were both higher than his brother's; reversing the order of importance would be a dangerous signal.
In the current Dorne, the Red Viper was already more popular among the Dornish people than Doran. The Red Viper was passionate, while Doran was inclined to be depressed, especially in the area of dancing with weapons; the Red Viper was indeed far stronger than Doran.
Doran was gloomy, his combat skills were average, and he had married a foreign wife.
Whichever point you brought up, they were all points against him.
"When I was a child playing in the Water Gardens, I would often topple those children older than me. I was brave and agile from a young age, while Doran would only watch me from the shore; he was much older than me and too gloomy.
But when it comes to the issue of succession, bravery is not the only thing.
Sometimes I quite envy Doran; fate made him the eldest son, and he is to inherit my mother's power and kingdom.
I am stronger than him, more impulsive than him, more popular than him, and more like a Dornish heir than him.
But I can only be his assistant.
Because I am the second son!" Oberyn said.
"This is the arrangement of the gods; my mother told me to listen, to obey.
I have thought about it many times, and even if I can't figure it out, there is no other way.
But I am, after all, a man of House Martell; I cannot harm the honor and future of the entire family for my own greed or ambition; I need to help him!"
Oberyn fell into a memory.
Rhaegar had no solution either; the primogeniture succession system of Westeros completely locked the door.
The right of succession belongs to the eldest son.
Establishing the eldest is an all-in choice; there is not even anyone who dares to shout for establishing the virtuous.
The eldest son firmly occupies the ecological niche, while the others must fend for themselves.
"I cannot rebel because our House Martell needs unity; unity is our principle, to live in harmony with brothers and uphold the heir.
Unity is above all else; our history cannot compare to those royal families of thousands of years, the lions, falcons, and direwolves.
And Dorne has little land and even fewer people, so it can't accept such turmoil!"
Oberyn began to complain; there was pain and unwillingness in his tone, but in the end, perhaps he was relieved.
The big picture comes first; one must obey the big picture.
This vehicle that is House Martell cannot withstand much turmoil.
Rhaegar heard this and thought House Martell was right; unity is the core.
They still had self-awareness; generally speaking, House Martell, like Dorne, had a small base and few people, so they could not recklessly flip the table.
Moreover, ascending to power through chaos today would surely trigger greater disputes tomorrow.
House Martell had indeed rarely had succession disputes over all these years.
The same applies to House Tyrell; the upstarts are desperately trying to stabilize their base and move forward together.
Only the old money and old lords like House Stark, House Arryn, and House Lannister fight until the world is turned upside down.
"You are right, but this is the custom of Westeros.
Your brother's right of succession is still higher than yours.
But I think there will still be people who will gather around you to incite infighting between you."
Rhaegar asked Oberyn.
In a war of succession, the risks and rewards are equally huge; there must be people willing to take the risk, regardless of whether they truly love Oberyn or just want to see House Martell make a fool of itself.
"Naturally there are many people; what they boast about is nothing more than that set of arguments.
I am stronger and more powerful than Doran, more cheerful and passionate than Doran, and have more kingly demeanor.
Doran even married a foreign wife, which is adding fuel to the fire!
But we are brothers; no matter what flaws he has, he is my brother after all!
I should obey! Once we split, those who want to harm House Martell will swarm in to challenge our authority."
Oberyn's tone was firm.
This is normal; being a lord in Westeros, being able to fight comes first.
Warrior demeanor, sunshine and passion, and being resourceful are all indispensable; this is itself a country that promotes the way of knighthood.
Doran at best occupies one point of strategy, and even that is secondary.
Lords all have maesters; if you can't fight, don't participate in jousting tournaments, and aren't busy with military affairs, this is just a joke.
"Then how will you deal with these ambitious people around you?" Rhaegar asked.
"Kill the ones that can be killed, use the ones that can be used.
Some have good intentions, just hot-headed, and can be forgiven.
Some are completely just trouble-makers, and I cannot tolerate that."
Oberyn said decisively.
He ate the mutton heartily, as if devouring his enemies.
"You are talking about House Yronwood!" Rhaegar pointed out.
"Why wouldn't it be them? After all, they were only one step away; before us, their family had the greatest strength.
If it hadn't been for the arrival of Queen Nymeria, perhaps all of Dorne would be theirs.
They were also active participants during the Blackfyre Rebellions!"
Oberyn inadvertently revealed the truth.
"It seems that this old man from House Yronwood died as he deserved," Rhaegar thought to himself.
If the old man died at the hands of the Red Viper, then that was mixed in together.
"I certainly cannot imitate House Stark where brothers kill each other, like the Golden Lion Gerold who killed his brother's three-year-old orphan girl, or like the falcons who pushed their brother from the Eyrie to fly into the sky, becoming a laughingstock to the world!"
Oberyn whipped the corpses of House Stark, House Lannister, and House Arryn.
After all, in the past hundred years, the succession wars of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Casterly Rock were truly a good show.
Later, the Old Wolf said something about the pack surviving, but in reality, their family had a period of dog-eat-dog, all for the high position.
Why the one-eyed man became one-eyed, that cannot be detailed.
Actually, Rhaegar felt that it was best to add House Targaryen to the corpse-whipping; that was also a bloodbath!
"What I am giving you is a chance, Prince!" Rhaegar said.
He had indeed brought a chance, it just depended on how Oberyn considered it.
If Oberyn established a brand new branch of House Martell in Essos, it would at least not be inferior to a secondary lord, and this could also provide certain material and military support to the main family.
At the same time, this would not damage his brother's ruling power.
A good choice.
"Then I thank the Prince for the possibility!" Oberyn raised his cup.
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