At most Westerosi parties a simple rule was true when searching for conversation , judge your guests like their horses . If you wanted someone reliable , simple , and honest , the North was your best bet . Highstepping nobility , used to lofty heights and treacherous paths the Vale had all a man might need . Costefficiency , and too much gilding for any man ' s taste the Westerlands , without question . Fine lineages , impressive form , cleverness and endurance ? A man clearly sought the Reach . Grace , skill , and thrill enough to set a man ' s heart to racing ? Well , that belonged to Dorne . Thinking on it more , Arlan realized that the entire saying had likely been started by some boastful Dornishman trying to sing the praises of his homeland so as to bed some tavern wench but it remained in the back of the Hightower ' s mind all the same . Alongside it lay years of prejudice and disdain for everyone and everything south of the Red Mountains , tempered only by brief and fleeting interactions with those Rhoynar would would make their way along the coast every so often , and come to Oldtown to trade . They had been interesting folk , full of life and laughter , freed of any bond or obligation . Arlan shook his head , clearing his thoughts . It was well and good to try and unravel years of mixed feelings toward a peoples in one evening , but it could wait until after he had at least spoken to the woman . There was no way to even be sure she was Dornish , not from such a distance and it was this that occupied him as he weaved his way through the crowd , coming to rest at last before the Bloodroyal . Forgive me I don ' t think we ' ve met . The Master of Coin offered . I am Arlan of the Hightower . Currently Master of Coin as well , but most folk find that less interesting than Lord of Oldtown . He gave a slight bow , brows knit as he straightened . I haven ' t seen silks like that since my days back home Dornish , I presume , though forgive me if my guessing offends .