The voice of Oldtown
As the blue and white sails of Redwyne's fleet unfurled at the mouth of Whispering Sound as they crossed Honeywine, even the winds of the Sunset Sea seemed to carry the unique scent of Oldtown —the salty sea breeze mingled with the sweetness of Honeywine, carrying the faint fragrance of the Citadel's ink and the incense of Starry Sept, drifting from both banks of the river and rising into the air, causing Daemon's long, silver-gold hair to cling to his neck.
The foremost "Arbor" ship, with its oak wine barrels still dripping with morning dew at the bow, and its deep purple grape emblem gleaming softly in the sunlight on its blue and white striped sails, stands in stark contrast to the various boats moored at the river mouth.
In the Summer Isles resemble shattered gems scattered on the sea, their sails embroidered with tropical flowers;
The merchant ships of the Free Cities were large, their decks piled high with Qarth silk and Lys spices;
Several iron-hulled ships, their hulls adorned with the House Hightower's ash-colored white tower coat of arms, stood quietly guarding either side of the waterway, as if welcoming distinguished guests.
"That's the Oldtown dock!" Alyn Redwyne stood on the gunwale, his orange hair damp with the fine salt of the river mouth, pointing ahead—a stone dock stretching from the east bank of the Honeywine into the sea, with bluestone steps leading up to it.
Porters carried crates back and forth, their shouts mingling with the sound of sails beating.
Along the canal, small wooden boats carrying passengers glide slowly by. The candles hanging at the bows are not yet lit, but they already exude a touch of the elegance of "small bridges and flowing water."
Along the streets in the distance, the roofs of stone houses were covered with ivy, and occasionally a bookseller would push a cart full of parchment scrolls by, attracting the attention of a few scholars in the grey robes of the Citadel.
Daemon, leaning on the Glutton's dragon saddle, looked down; the outline of the Oldtown became increasingly clear in the twilight.
The stone walls of the city hall on the west bank of the Honeywine gleamed with a cold light, while warm yellow lights shone from the windows along the river.
Further away, the Hightower, like a silver pillar, pierced the clouds; the lighthouse atop it, though not yet lit,
The outline of the flames that were about to ignite was already visible, and its height of over 800 feet made it stand out among the surrounding buildings, like an undying star in the Southern Territory.
"Your Highness Prince Daemon! Your Gael Princess Geri!" A steady voice drifted on the wind. At the end of the dock, a group of guards in smoky gray armor stood on both sides, their armor embroidered with the emblem of a white tower with burning flames. In the middle stood a tall, middle-aged man— Earl Hobert Hightower of Oldtown.
He wore a brocade robe with a smoky gray background, the hem of which was embroidered with the same emblem as his guards' armor. At his waist hung a scabbard with a sapphire inlaid in the hilt, on which the word "Vigilance" could be faintly seen engraved—it was the Valyrian steel longsword passed down through the House Hightower.
The title of Earl of Hobert House Hightower carries even greater weight than that of Duke of Mathos House Tyrell. The titles "Beacon of the South," "Defender of Oldtown," and "Voice of the Citadel" are all reflected in his steady gaze.
He strode forward to the dragon, offering no overly enthusiastic embrace, but merely a slight bow, his movements exuding noble elegance and dignity. "We have been waiting for Your Highness and Princess. The Master of Laws sent a raven yesterday with news that the true dragon is approaching, and the entire Oldtown has been eagerly awaiting this day."
Daemon dismounted, the scabbard of his Blackfyre clinking lightly against the stone steps. He swept his gaze across the two men behind Hobert.
The girl on the left wore a pale purple dress with tiny white pagoda patterns embroidered on the hem. A water lily from the Honeywine was tucked into her hair. Her features bore a resemblance to Alicent Hightower in King's Landing, but she possessed a more seasoned and shrewd business acumen.
The boy on the right wore silver armor, the white pagoda emblem on his breastplate still gleaming with the light of newly forged steel. He held a short sword in his hand, his eyes fixed curiously on the Glutton, a smile playing on his lips.
"This is my daughter Bethany," Hobert introduced, stepping aside. Bethany immediately curtsied, her voice gentle yet firm. "Greetings, Your Highness Daemon, Princess Gael. I've often heard my uncle Lord Otto's raven letters mention your deeds in the Riverlands and the Westerlands. Meeting you today, I find you indeed as captivating as the rumors suggest." She paused, then added, "I know a little about the trade routes of Oldtown. If Your Highness wishes to learn about the merchant ships that travel there, I would be happy to explain."
"And my son, Mund." Hobert patted the boy's shoulder. Mund immediately straightened his back, but couldn't help glancing towards the Glutton: "Your Highness! Can your Black Dragon really breathe Blackfyre? I heard from the maesters of the Citadel that the color of Dragonfire is related to the dragon's scales, is that true? But I remember the Citadel records that your dragon's Dragonfire were a ghastly green?" The boy's bluntness drew chuckles from the surrounding guards. Hobert shook his head helplessly, but didn't reprimand him.
Who wouldn't be curious about a real dragon?
Amused by Mund's appearance, Gael took a small bag of fresh berries from Dreamfyre's back and handed it to him. "These are fresh berries from Arbor. You can try feeding them to Dreamfyre; it's very docile." Mund's eyes lit up, and he quickly took the bag, carefully walking up to Dreamfyre. Watching the pale blue dragon lower its head to peck at the berries, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
Mysaria leaned closer to Bethany, a few drops of mist from the riverbank still clinging to her platinum curls. "Miss Bethany," she said, "Does the Citadel really have many books? I've heard of parchment scrolls recording the history of the First Men, and stories about dragons?" Bethany smiled and nodded, pulling a simple map of the Citadel from her sleeve. "I can take you to see it tomorrow. The Citadel's Library Tower is even more fascinating than the Hightower's Lighthouse."
The group followed Hobert toward the Hightower. The cobblestone streets beneath their feet were smoothed by time, and small wooden boats glided slowly along the canals on either side, with boatmen singing folk songs from the Reach, their voices mingling with the distant chimes of the Citadel.
The shops along the street were lit: the spice shops exuded the aroma of cinnamon and cardamom, the booksellers' stalls displayed freshly copied collections of poetry, the Smith echoed with the clanging of metalworking— the Oldtown's liveliness was unlike the clamor of King's Landing's Landing.
Instead, it's like a jar of warmed mead, mellow and lingering.
A banquet had already been prepared in the courtyard beneath the Hightower. The courtyard was paved with bluestone slabs, and the central fountain featured a stone statue of its ancestor, the first "King of the Tower." Water dripped from the statue's fingertips and splashed into a pool covered with water lilies.
The long table was laden with Oldtown specialties: fresh fish from the Honeywine, grilled to a crispy exterior and tender interior, drizzled with a herb sauce recommended by the Citadel; and the fat from roasted wild boar dripping onto the charcoal fire, mingling with the sweet aroma of the Honeywine.
The most eye-catching item, however, was a jar of amber-colored fruit wine. Unlike the wine from Arbor, Bethany explained, "This is made from grapes and peaches from the Honeywine. It's sweeter than the wine from Arbor, making it more suitable for us ladies."
Hobert sat in the head seat, raised his glass, and glanced at everyone. "The Oldtown's prosperity today is all thanks to trade." From a trading post in the Dawn Era to the port connecting the Summer Isles and Qarth today,
"Our House Hightower has always upheld our family motto, 'Lighting the Way Forward'—not only protecting the Oldtown, but also safeguarding the path of knowledge in the Citadel." He paused, pointing towards the Citadel in the distance. "Every year, hundreds of scholars depart from here to travel to various parts of the Seven Kingdoms; our merchant ships, laden with grain and textiles from the Reach, exchange them for silk and books from the Free Cities —this is the foundation of the Oldtown."
Hobert's tone became more serious upon mentioning Otto's letter. "Otto wrote that His Highness's tour of the Seven Kingdoms Seven Kingdoms for their peace. Oldtown, though situated in the southwest, is aware of the recent unrest— the Dornish and the Triarchy pirates are frequently at large, and merchant ships from the Stepstones are often plundered; longships from the Iron Islands are also roaming Whispering Sound, and last month they even seized one of our spice-laden ships." He set down his wine glass, his eyes filled with worry. "Oldtown's trade routes cannot be severed, otherwise not only will the Reach be affected, but the Seven Kingdoms will also face shortages."
Daemon's fingers, holding the wine glass, paused slightly. He naturally understood the deeper meaning of Otto's letter; the Master of Laws had probably already planted spies among his servants, and was even aware of his whereabouts in the Riverlands and the Westerlands.
Although he had already sensed it, he didn't point it out, simply saying, "Rest assured, Earl, I will keep an eye on these developments while I'm going to the Citadel to pick up Vaegon and Sir Leonno. I won't stand idly by regarding the Ironborn and the pirates."
They added, "If needed, the Glutton and Dreamfyre are ready to be deployed at any time. We will never refuse to help Oldtown if it needs our assistance."
Mund suddenly raised his wine glass and called out to Daemon, "Your Highness! If the Ironborn come again, may I go with you? I've studied swordsmanship and can help you take care of your equipment!" Hobert glared at him with a smile, "You should memorize the history of the Citadel first!" Laughter immediately filled the courtyard, and the atmosphere became even more relaxed.
Larys Strong sat in the corner, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the cobblestones. He didn't say much, only picking at a piece of grilled fish with a silver fork, a sharp glint in his dark eyes. He noticed that the House Hightower guards all carried short crossbows at their waists, vigilantly watching the courtyard entrance; clearly, Hobert's worries about the "unrest" were not unfounded. However, thinking of seeing his long-lost father tomorrow, he unusually didn't want to "meddle."
Jarman Waters, meanwhile, leaned against the fountain, his one eye scanning the surrounding servants, his fingers unconsciously stroking his bow and arrow, maintaining his usual vigilance.
As night deepened, the lighthouse of the Hightower finally lit up, its warm yellow light piercing the twilight and illuminating the entire Oldtown. Hobert rose and bowed to Daemon: "Your Highness, tomorrow when you go to the Citadel, let Bethany and Mund accompany you. Bethany is familiar with the Citadel's Library Tower, and Mund can help you look after your warhorse—these young people should learn more from Your Highness's sense of responsibility."
Daemon nodded in agreement. "Thank you both." Bethany and Mund immediately bowed, Mund's eyes filled with anticipation, clearly having long looked forward to this trip to the Citadel.
When the banquet ended, the streets of the Oldtown were still lit. Daemon stood in the courtyard, gazing at the Hightower lighthouse.
The Glutton and Dreamfyre huddled together in a clearing not far away, their dragon breath condensing into white vapor in the night, reflecting the light of the lighthouse. Alys Rivers walked to his side, her bright green eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Oldtown is quieter and more profound than Highgarden."
"Yes," Daemon said softly, "This place possesses the wisdom of the Citadel and the composure of Hightower, yet it also harbors the undercurrents of trade routes. Perhaps we can learn more about Dorne and the Ironborn from Ser Leonno when we go to the Citadel tomorrow."
The evening bells of the Citadel rang out in the distance, their tolls echoing through the canals and streets of Oldtown, like a gentle prelude to their journey through the Oldtown. Meanwhile, the lighthouse of the Hightower remained lit, illuminating the waterway of the Honeywine, just as Hobert Hightower's title "Beacon of the South" suggests, and guiding Daemon and his companions on their way.