Aegon reined in his horse and studied Oldtown's walls in the distance.
The walls were tall and thick, built from massive blocks of gray-white stone. They had weathered thousands of years of wind and rain and still stood firm.
Soldiers of the Oldtown Guard crowded the battlements, their armor gleaming in the sunlight.
The banners of House Hightower fluttered above the walls: a white lighthouse on a gray field, green flames burning at its summit.
The city had a long history. Even before the Andals invaded, the First Men had established a settlement here.
The Andals who came later brought the faith of the Seven and built the Starry Sept within the city. From then on, Oldtown became the religious heart of Westeros.
The Citadel was also situated here, and for thousands of years it had trained generation after generation of maesters for the Seven Kingdoms.
Unlike King's Landing, with its dense population, suffocating crowds, and streets perpetually steeped in stench, Oldtown could claim to be the largest city in Westeros.
Its districts spread far and wide, its streets were broad and clean, and its houses stood in orderly rows. The walls wound along the mouth of the Honeywine, sheltering the entire city behind them.
Aegon turned his gaze back toward the front of the army.
William Crabb was riding back and forth, directing the troops into formation.
They had marched at a punishing pace after leaving Highgarden, reaching Oldtown's walls in just two days.
They had left behind all baggage and supplies that would slow their march. Each man carried only a few days' rations.
As for siege engines-they had brought none, nor did they intend to build any here.
There was no need.
Even the strongest, thickest walls could not withstand a blast of the Three-Headed Dragon's lightning