Ser Laenor Velaryon, alone in his quarters, perched on the second floor, gazing pensively out of the wide-open window that framed a panoramic view of the sea. Having recently returned from Driftmark, the ancestral seat of House Velaryon, his mind was heavy with thoughts. In quiet contemplation, a gentle breeze swept through, carrying the invigorating scent of salt and seaweed. A light knock drew Laenor's attention from the vast expanse. "Come," he called out, his voice tinged with fatigue.