Is it true? Can the slight, pious youth who is king—young Baelor, whom some call Halfsepton—really intend to depart for Dorne in two weeks time? That’s the rumor at court, and the actions of the king’s household and that of the king’s stewards make some suspect it to be true. Orders have been flying, sending gold cloaks and foresters south of the city, along the beginning of what would be the king’s route to Blackhaven and the Boneway beyond. Ravens, too, have been sent to the seats of the lords and knights along the way, allegedly enjoining them to deal with all the unrest and brigandry on their lands within a certain time, or suffer the consequences.

Word arrived late in the day from Blackhaven, and the words were as black as the wings of the raven that carried it:

The morning dawned with the king awake, after having knelt before the altars of the Seven in the royal sept in succession through all the previous night, fasting and praying in readiness for his coronation. Nearly a week of feasting had preceded it, each feast hosted by some gracious noble house—Crakehall, Gargalen, Tully, Baratheon, Lannister, and Arryn—and none could recall such a fine gathering of the great and the courtly since the coronation of the king’s late father, Viserys, whose crowning ended two harsh years of war. Lavish efforts were made to impress his grace and his court, as each house vied to outdo the other: Ser Ethos Mertyns and Lady Joleta Gargalen, in a canny effort to emphasize the peace with Dorne, provided a rich array of Dornish food, and a speech that found favor with the king, if not many others; Lady Tully hosted a masquerade that attracted tremendous efforts, and saw the queen and her sister dancing before a prize was granted; Ser Tancred Baratheon, on the other hand, surprised many by announcing his betrothal to Obany of House Darklyn, daughter of a man who had once been Master of Coin; Lord Arryn gave a fiery speech, very godly all agreed, as his guests dined.

It was, in a way, anticlimactic. When the bird arrived, tired from its long journey from King’s Landing, the Old Palace’s maester carried the message to the Seneschal, who in turn brought it before Prince Marence, who was at that time in conference with certain lords and ladies and knights, discussing the way forward for a war-weary Dorne. The message was read, and King Baelor’s terms—practically in perfect agreement with Prince Marence’s counter-offer—were, it seems, much as Prince Marence hoped. What were two more towerhouses in the Prince’s Pass and the Boneway, after all, when compared to the Targaryen banner being struck down from over Wyl and Salt Shore?

Departing from the crowded afternoon service, King Baelor and many of his followers were outside the royal sept. The young king remarked on the sermon on charity from the sept’s chief septon, Septon Elwood, with a great deal of admiration. For some, that sermon was unfortunately timed, given what transpired afterward.

The Dornish court gathered in the Prince of Dorne’s throne room, beneath the golden dome of the Tower of the Sun. The cause? Word had at last had arrived from King’s Landing. and rumors had it that the new king Baelor, pious to a fault, spoke of peace. The Prince arrived in company with his brother, Prince Rhodry, whose expression was murderous. Everyone soon discovered why, when the prince read the letter from the king. Though Baelor wished peace, and offered to exchange all the hostages held in King’s Landing in return for the Dragonknight and certain other prisoners, he had been convinced that the surest way to peace…

Prince Rhodry Nymeros Martell has made his triumphant return to Sunspear, after having spent some time at Godsgrace awaiting word from the four corners of Dorne regarding what remnants of the king’s army exist. Ser Perrin Blackmont, reconciled with the prince after the debacle at the Battle of Godsgrace, was left in command of much of the force that Rhodry brought back from the Tor, with orders to mobilize them if the king’s forces to the north at Yronwood attempted to venture back into the depths of Dorne. As for himself? Rhodry seemed intent on shedding the last of his responsibilities as his brother’s commander in the field, now that there was little likelihood of bloodshed.

Two dozen ships were sighted from the heights of Aegon’s High Hill, making their weary way down Blackwater Bay towards the city. The banners and pennons that flew represented a dozen different houses, many from Dragonstone, but one banner in particular was the most noticeable: the Targaryen three-headed dragon, flying from the top of mast of each and every ship. The king’s—the new king’s—fleet had returned from Dorne, carrying on it the pitiful remnant of his grand army who had survived months of hard fighting, fighting which culminated in disaster. The Young Dragon’s murder, the dissolution of his army, the heroic flight across the deserts with Dornish harrying them every step of the way, the loss of the Planky Town, the storming of the Tor and the breaking of the siege of Salt Shore, and then the worst storms that Autumn in the narrow sea could conjure—it’s a wonder any man among them lived.

In the wake of King Daeron’s murder and the near-riot in King’s Landing, King Baelor prayed and fasted for three days and nights. Only after he recovered from this did the young king begin to rule. And the tasks he set before his council? To proclaim the forty-nine days of mourning for Daeron I, to prepare his coronation after that time, to see to the safety of the Dornish hostages—including a formal pardon for Ser Tarion Sand, who killed one of the guards in an attempt to escape to safety—and…

Storms had rained their fury on Blackwater Bay and King’s Landing, and it was storms to blame, their downpours and their winds, for the long delay in news from Dorne. So when the rains stopped, temporarily, it seemed perhaps that news would arrive at last…

From Godsgrace to the fords of the River Vaith to Salt Shore—the Reachlords and Riverlords led by Ser Ardin Tyrell, Lord-Protector of Highgarden, had reached the end of a long, brutal march, shadowed every step of the way by Lord Andrey Blackmont with a larger host. But Lord Blackmont’s refusal to engage them—save in constant skirmishing and the battle at the fords—and the fact that none of the scouts they had sent ahead to Salt Shore had returned meant that the captains of the Westerosi host suspected yet another Dornish trick at the end.

The night fell on the ransacked town of the Tor. Soldiers made merry in its streets, confident they were beyond the power of the Dornish and that the war for them was over. But in the night something stirred, the Speardancer and Prince Rhodry had brought up their soldiers in the dark - perhaps taking lesson from the Stormbreaker’s unstoppable march from the week before.

The Planky Town is lost.

In King’s Landing, the news of the king’s victory after the Dornishmen attempted their night raid against his siege was well-received. It has become a ritual at the court, to gather in the Great Keep through much of the day, waiting for news to arrive drip by drip, carried on ravens’ wings. And yet, though the news was happy for most—a few knights of note were killed on the king’s side, it’s true, including Ser Yonel Storm of the City Watch—it was not for those Dornish present. The news of Prince Rhodry’s probable death, and the fall of Ser Elric, the Shade of Ghost Hill, troubled them.

The colloquy of the leading lords and captains of the army lasted a mere hour, following the destruction of much of the baggage. Ser Ardon Tyrell’s men had seized a part of what remained, and the stormlords another part, and Ser William’s men a third part. No agreement could be made as to a single direction for the army, nor a single commander. And so, in the interest of preventing any more bloodshed, Ser William and others agreed to break the army up, each under its own commander: