In the blink of an eye, another five days had passed.
The glow of Oldtown's fires had long since faded beyond the horizon. The Citadel's ashes scattered on the wind, fell into the Honeywine, and were carried far away.
The maesters buried alive, along with the knowledge they had spent their lives studying and the forbidden texts consumed by the flames, had all become things of the past.
Five days was enough time for many things to happen.
William Crabb remained in Oldtown with six thousand half-wildling warriors under his command.
Their task was to maintain stability in the Southern Southlands.
Aegon, meanwhile, returned with three thousand soldiers gathered from around Highgarden to the ruins of what had once been called "the most beautiful castle in the Seven Kingdoms."
Highgarden.
The home of the Golden Rose.
Now, half of it lay in ruins.
Traces of the Starry Warriors' rampage were everywhere: collapsed towers, blackened walls, smashed statues, and desolate rose gardens.
The once-blooming rose bushes were now nothing but withered yellow branches swaying in the wind.
The castle's main structure was still reasonably intact, but scorch marks were everywhere. Several towers had partially collapsed, and rubble lay piled in the courtyard with no one to clear it away.
This castle was no longer the Highgarden that had once brimmed with flowers.
But it was still Highgarden.
It was still one of the royal residences Aegon had chosen for House Targaryen. It would be rebuilt and restored to its former splendor.
Three thousand soldiers camped outside the walls, their banners snapping in the wind.
At the edge of the camp, dozens of wagons stood in neat rows, laden with stacks of books collected from the Citadel... parchment scrolls, handwritten manuscripts, and all manner of texts.
Inside the castle, in a room