Duel

All Hightowers?

Bound by blood?

What a load of crap!

To anyone else, that might mean that this generation of Hightower brothers helped one another, putting their family words, "Illumine the Way," into practice.

It was all bullshit.

Although the original Dareon Hightower had been a political idiot of the highest order, memories did not lie.

Back before he had foolishly allowed himself to be excluded from the family's inner circle of power.

The five male Hightowers with inheritance rights had been divided into three factions.

The eldest, Baelor Hightower, the first heir to the Hightower, had been rather fond of his single-minded youngest brother.

To be honest, he had simply valued how brainless Darean was, which made him especially obedient, accepting whatever Baelor said.

In plain English, he was easy to fool.

The second brother, Garth Hightower, had won over the oily, powdered Humfrey and formed an alliance with him, constantly opposing their eldest brother over family affairs.

That left the third brother, Guncer, who belonged to the middle ground, seemingly supporting whoever was in the right and offered the greatest benefit to the family.

But more than once, Darean had heard Baelor Hightower and others describe Guncer as the worst of the lot, a sanctimonious hypocrite.

In short, once Leyton Hightower, the undisputed supreme authority, was absent, his five sons, each harboring his own designs, had made a complete mess of things.

The stagnation of the family's businesses over the years was inseparable from the infighting among its decision-makers.

Now Garth Hightower wanted him to come over. It would be a miracle if anything good came of it.

Unfortunately, Darean had no way out at the moment.

He had only three men and two swords around him, with a carriage following behind carrying Archmaester Marwyn's jars and pots.

This was an internal matter for House Hightower, and it was not appropriate for this member of the Conclave to intervene.

Tch... it was fools like you who disgraced the family.

Somewhat irritated, Darean considered how to leave.

Forcing his way through was out of the question. Humfrey had brought at least twenty heavily armored cavalrymen.

No one in his right mind would even consider a frontal charge against those tin cans.

"My lord, how about you find an excuse to get closer in a moment? I'll follow you and drag Humfrey straight off his horse."

Clyson came closer and whispered in Darean's ear.

Darean immediately rejected this unreliable suggestion:

"You bastard, if we do that, we really won't be leaving today. How could Garth let us slap him in the face like that?"

Glancing down, he said coldly:

"Put your sword away. I can beat him up, and Garth can't do anything to me in front of everyone. If you dare lay a hand on him, your only fate will be to rot at the bottom of the Hightower."

That was how a rigid class hierarchy worked.

No matter how much they disliked one another, they were all Hightowers. Even a fight was a matter between those of noble blood.

Although Clyson was a Hightower too, he was, after all, from a collateral branch.

If he dared act, Darean would have no way to protect him.

Seeing that his younger brother had finally fallen silent, Humfrey immediately wore a triumphant smile on his powdered face.

He was just about to give his disobedient younger brother a good mocking.

But then he saw Darean, seated upright on his warhorse, suddenly turn his gaze toward him.

Humfrey knew that look.

Ever since they were children, Darean had worn that look whenever he wanted to beat him up.

His body instinctively tensed, and some rather unpleasant memories rose in his mind.

The gilded fraud immediately began to panic and involuntarily shouted:

"You... what are you going to do?"

Seeing their master's disgraceful display, the guards who also belonged to House Hightower all turned their heads slightly.

Beneath their iron helmets, every face bore an expression that could not stand to watch.

Deep down, they were of course more accustomed to young master Darean, who had "mixed it up" with them in every sense since childhood.

The problem was that the family's current assignment for them was to protect that good-for-nothing Humfrey.

Having depended on the vast House Hightower for their livelihood for generations, they had no choice at all.

They could only grit their teeth and carry on.

"Humfrey Hightower, look at yourself. You really make me suspect that everyone around you can get a laugh at your expense."

Darean sneered and continued his mockery:

"If I were you, I wouldn't spend all day trailing after someone else, saying Garth this and Garth that. Why didn't he come himself?"

"Father would be ashamed of you, and so would all of House Hightower. If you want to haul me back, draw your sword and beat me, my 'brother'!"

He put heavy emphasis on that last word.

As soon as he said this, the Oldtown residents watching around them erupted in enthusiastic agreement.

For no other reason than that, comparing the two in every respect, Darean was undoubtedly the one more to their liking.

"That's right, you're a Hightower too. Draw your sword!"

"Why can't a member of the family even pick up a sword? Are you carrying that thing around to trim your nails?"

"Look, that pale boy's hands are shaking. He's scared!"

"..."

Waves of mockery echoed in the ears of the livid Humfrey Hightower like sharp knives, slicing at his eardrums.

The family knights around them did not shout anyone down. They merely controlled their warhorses to keep the residents from approaching.

Their duty was to protect the safety of the family's direct descendants.

As for honor...

Honor in this world had always been something one earned for oneself.

They thoroughly agreed with what Darean had said. If someone insulted you, the solution was simple: draw your sword and cut him down. No matter how many insults there were, they would all become the victor's glory.

Feeling his own rapid breathing, Humfrey was somewhat at a loss, his livid face turning pale.

His heart was filled with anger, but reason and past memories were clearly holding him back:

Don't go over there. You'll definitely get beaten up!

But the more he cowered and held back, the more strange looks he received, and the more vicious mockery there was to make him glare in anger.

At last, he simply could not bear it any longer.

He knew perfectly well that his younger brother was deliberately provoking him, but he had never possessed enough rationality to begin with.

His trembling right hand had already reached for the gleaming, ornately engraved longsword at his waist.

Staring venomously at Darean opposite him, Humfrey clenched his teeth almost hard enough to draw blood and finally pulled the blade out a little.

Just then, a large hand in an iron gauntlet pressed down on his.

"Leave it. I'll teach him a lesson for you."

He looked up and saw Aemon Cuy, his temporary guard captain.

This man from House Cuy was a knight of some renown, and Garth Hightower had invited him to Oldtown as a guest during this time.

If the story followed its normal course, this man would later become one of Renly's Rainbow Guard.

Of course, his eventual end would not be a good one either.

He was a guard, yet he had failed to protect his master.

History would not give him a second chance.

And now, Darean intended the same.

Watching the knight, built like an ox, ride toward him on a tall horse, Darean's lips curled into a cold smile.

Good thing I've stored up a little magic.

You want to teach me a lesson?

You're not good enough!