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Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Dornish Lionheart
...
Richard POV

Princess Elia's actions had caught me completely by surprise. The girl I remembered from two years ago had been gentle and somewhat shy, particularly whenever too much attention fell upon her. The young woman I encountered in the market was different.

She had run through a crowded street to reach me, clung to my chest in front of her companions and guards, and then invited me to stay at the Old Palace.

Perhaps being home in Dorne had given her greater confidence. Whatever the reason, her newfound boldness intrigued me.

It now appeared that I would remain in Dorne longer than originally planned.

That was not necessarily a bad thing. Dorne could become important to my future ambitions. Its ports provided direct access to the Narrow Sea, while its distance from the Iron Throne allowed certain affairs to be conducted without unwanted scrutiny.

For now, however, I had more immediate matters to handle.

I had entered one of the poorest districts of Sunspear.

The narrow streets were crowded with beggars, laborers, and orphans. Old buildings leaned toward one another, their sun-faded walls cracked by age. Torn lengths of cloth hung between the rooftops, providing small patches of shade against the Dornish sun.

My three knights followed behind me.

Alfred Parren followed several paces behind me, while Loren and Androw walked at his sides. All three had traded their finer clothing for the plain garments of travelers, though swords remained concealed beneath their cloaks.

As we moved deeper into the district, I noticed several people watching us.

An old beggar sat against a wall with his face hidden beneath a ragged hood. A woman selling bruised fruit quietly tracked our movements. Two boys seated beside a dry fountain stopped speaking as we passed.

They appeared to be ordinary inhabitants of the slums.

Some of them belonged to the Lionheart family.

Conrad had recruited and trained the Dornish branch himself. Even I could not identify every member with certainty.

That alone impressed me.

Had I possessed the senses of an ordinary man, their disguises might have deceived me completely. My hearing, however, caught the whispers passing through the streets.

"That is him," someone murmured from a nearby alley.

"The Founder?" another voice asked in awe.

"Yes. Maintain your disguise," the first speaker warned quietly. "The best way to honor him is to perform your duty."

No one approached me or openly bowed. They understood that protecting their identities mattered more than displaying their loyalty.

Still, word of my arrival spread throughout the district.

A familiar face eventually caught my attention.

A teenage boy sat beside a crumbling wall with a wooden bowl before him. Dust covered his clothing, and tangled hair framed his face. To anyone passing, he appeared to be another starving orphan begging for copper.

His disguise was convincing.

I still recognized him.

Humphrey had been the first boy I had ever helped, long before the Lionheart family had grown into what it was today. According to Conrad's letter, he would guide us to the hideout.