A rapid clatter of war boots echoed through the streets of Oldtown.
A fully armed company was making its way toward the Starry Sept.
Baelor Hightower walked at its head, a silvery-white greathelm tucked beneath his arm.
The crest of his helm was fashioned into the battlements of the Hightower. A black-and-white surcoat covered his plate armor, and the Hightower emblazoned on his chest burned with a beacon fire.
One hand rested on the hilt at his waist, his stride steady.
A group of young men followed him, all sons of noble houses from the Reach:
Earl Rowan's second son, Earl Caswell's heir, the son of Earl Crennan's cousin, and Dickon Tarly, the youngest yet tallest among them...
Earl Randyll Tarly's younger son.
A month had passed. The noble lords of the Reach had returned to their respective lands, mustered their troops, and come back to Oldtown to assemble once more.
Now a full hundred thousand soldiers of the Reach had gathered outside the city.
The young sons, nephews, and other kinsmen of these earls would serve as commanders in this campaign, though not in the Holy Sword Knights, which consisted of the various houses' guards and levies.
Instead, they would command the Starry Warriors, raised through a call to the faithful.
The two forces were much like a regular army and a motley militia.
The regular army was naturally the Holy Sword Knights, commanded by the earls themselves, while the Starry Warriors had been entrusted to these young men.
Though Baelor felt he ought to stand alongside earls such as Randyll, his father was still Earl of the Hightower, and he remained only the heir.
So he could only stand with men he regarded as his juniors.
They were going to the Starry Sept to be anointed with holy