Zaren stayed on Pebble for another week, waiting until the Countess of the Paps sent her heir to the island. Only then did he order the return voyage to Sweetsister.
Earl Godric hosted a banquet at Breakwater Castle and Sisterton to celebrate their triumph.
Before Zaren's return, the White Harbor fleet, having fulfilled their lord's command to destroy the pirates, had already sailed back to White Harbor.
The relationship between Northmen and Sistermen couldn't be called casual acquaintances; it was more like oil and water—distinctly separate.
Sisterton, the small town usually reeking of rotting fish and pig shit, looked even more dilapidated and wretched after the pirates' raid and arson.
The streets, paved with shipwreck timber, were either scorched black or stained with blood. A small portion of the wattle-and-daub houses had been reduced to ruins.
Even the posts of the gallows gate were charred black. Numerous ropes hung from the crossbeam, suspending headless corpses that swayed in the wind, pecked at by a circling flock of crows.
Other corpses hung from large trees lining the roads, giving the town an exceptionally gruesome appearance.
The returning Sistermen paid no mind to this horrific scene.
After Zaren paid out the promised silver stags, Gold Dragons, cloth, and peach wine, they lit bonfires, guzzled fine wine, and held their beloved wrestling matches in a mud pit.
Zaren joined in, throwing three Sistermen in a row before losing his balance due to excessive drinking and landing face-first in the mud.
By the end, Zaren was covered in mud from head to toe. After everyone had their fill of fun, he returned to his tent with the help of Old Ser Lyles' two sons to wash up and change clothes.
Just as Zaren was preparing to return to the banquet, the Captain of the Guard lifted the tent flap and entered.
"Zaren, Lord Godric is looking for you. Follow me."
Zaren, now mostly sober, acknowledged and followed the Captain. As they moved further away from the noisy Sisterton, he realized this wasn't the path to the castle.
"Where are we going?"
"The Earl isn't in the castle. He's at the Night Lamp," the Captain replied over his shoulder.
"Uncle's old legs... what's he doing at the Night Lamp this late?" The Night Lamp was the main lighthouse on Sweetsister, guiding ships through the perilous waters.
The Captain didn't answer, just led the way.
The Night Lamp wasn't far from Sisterton. Arriving at the base, Zaren found his uncle waiting for him.
Godric: "Zaren, my nephew. Come up with me."
Zaren took a torch from a guard, pushed open the door, and started up the winding stone stairs.
The steps were steep and slick with dampness, nothing for the agile Zaren.
But for the aging Godric, it was a grueling climb. Hand on the rail, Godric ascended step by step, stopping occasionally to catch his breath.
It took Godric a full quarter of an hour to climb the relatively short staircase.
"Uncle, are you alright?" Zaren lit the prepared woodpile, and the Night Lamp's beacon flared to life.
"I haven't been here in a long time... must be over ten years," Godric panted, leaning against the wall. "Didn't expect a few stairs to take half my life."
Seeing his uncle's grey beard and breathless state, Zaren recalled how Godric had taught him swordplay and wrestling over a decade ago.
Back then, Earl Godric was robust and tough, able to knock him down with one hand. Now, he was frail.
Godric caught his breath and finally steadied his breathing. "You did very well on Pebble. Now, whether it's Littlesister, Longsister, or the people here on Sweetsister, everyone respects you."
Earl Godric paced over to Zaren. "I intend to make you my heir."
Zaren asked in disbelief, "Make me your heir?"
"You know the situation of House Borrell. I have no sons, only two daughters and four granddaughters.
"True, they can all make a delicious Sister's Stew, but the thought of any of them becoming Guardian of the Bite makes my head spin."
Earl Godric's voice was soft and broken, as if speaking these words took all his remaining strength.
"I need you to stay on Sweetsister. After I die... become Earl of Sweetsister... Shield of the Sisters... Master of Breakwater... Guardian of the Bite."
Listening to his uncle list the titles one by one, Zaren was speechless.
On Pebble, he had promised titles to the Pryor cousins in exchange for loyalty and obedience. Now, his uncle was using the same tactic to demand he stay on the island.
As a member of a cadet branch of House Borrell, how could he not have coveted and fantasized about the ancestral castle and the lighthouse?
For a cadet branch member to become the heir and legally inherit the ancestral seat was an offer impossible to refuse.
Zaren licked his cracked lips, his voice dry as he repeated, "You need me to stay on the island? Stay by your side?"
"In the Narrow Sea and the Free Cities, accidents happen often. As my heir, you should stay on Sweetsister and assist me in governing the domain." Earl Godric's voice gradually grew stronger.
"I don't want to go through the trouble of changing my heir, only to receive a letter someday saying my heir has been lost at sea or died by someone else's sword.
"You should know, if I make you my heir, my daughters and granddaughters will certainly stop making me Sister's Stew. That is a delicacy I cannot refuse."
Zaren: "But in the name of the Lady of the Waves and the Lord of the Skies, I swore to follow and serve Lord Arthur. I..."
Before Zaren could finish, Earl Godric grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window of the lighthouse.
The firelight shone through the stone opening, illuminating a great distance in the dark night.
"Look, Zaren! Look closely!" Earl Godric held onto Zaren with one hand and pointed out the window with the other.
"Look at the ancestral castle of House Borrell, look at the celebrating crowds in Sisterton, look at the sea and islands as far as your eyes can see. Including this lighthouse. As long as you agree to stay, all of this will belong to you in the future."
Zaren followed his uncle's finger, looking in all directions. The castle, Sisterton, the sea—places familiar to him beyond words.
Finally, his gaze settled on his uncle's webbed hand gripping his arm.
He realized the strength in his uncle's grip was immense. Without struggling violently, he couldn't pull his arm free.
Amidst his internal struggle, Arthur's voice echoed in Zaren's ears—words spoken after Zaren had sworn his loyalty.
"If you swear allegiance to me out of gratitude for what I did for the Three Sisters, there is no need. I was merely fulfilling the promise I made when I set sail from Sweetsister.
"Everyone says bastard blood is born of lust and lies, naturally fickle and treacherous.
"A bastard cousin of mine wants to prove this wrong. He wants to prove that a bastard can also keep honor and command respect.
"I think he is right. Even though fulfilling this promise requires a great price, I do it gladly."
To this day, Zaren remembered the scene after Arthur spoke those words.
The sunlight streaming through the glass window had bathed Lord Arthur, casting a shadow that seemed to fill the entire room.
In that moment, Zaren felt Lord Arthur was as towering as the Lady of the Waves and the Lord of the Skies he worshipped.
Returning to reality, Zaren looked at his uncle's expectant face and exhaled a long breath.
"Uncle, I cannot break my oath.
"When the sun rises, the lighthouse is meaningless.
"If I must choose between the sun and the lighthouse—I will go to Braavos, back to Lord Arthur's side!"