The aid list

The letter's contents were not complicated.

His eldest brother, Baelor Hightower, had written him a "commendation" on behalf of the family.

The gist was that Darean had opened up new territory for the family and upheld its honor, and so on.

Therefore, he deserved some support from the family.

As for what that support would entail, the family itself had not reached a decision, so Darean was to put forward his own requests.

It sounded simple enough.

But the problem was, everyone knew what this so-called expansion of their territory really amounted to.

If even this deserved a commendation, couldn't Baelor Hightower go and make some family vassal swallow his objections and do it all over again?

So that justification did not hold water at all.

Then... what was this unearned generosity really for?

Darean caught a hint of something in the letter's final sentence:

"May the light of the Hightower illuminate the road ahead for your domain, and may our family's glory stand firm upon the shores of the Redwyne Straits."

Why bring up the Redwyne Straits out of nowhere?

Darean's earlier plans for his domain's future had included making sure he maintained good relations with House Redwyne across the water.

After all, if he wanted this place to prosper in the end, he would either have to crush House Redwyne underfoot or settle for cautious cooperation.

After all, controlling a strait without making a living from trade would be downright idiotic.

Yet House Redwyne was already doing just that.

There was only so much of the pie to go around, so Darean and the Redwynes were bound to be playing a zero-sum game.

In fact, Oldtown was currently in a very uncomfortable position precisely because the Redwyne Fleet effectively controlled the lifeline of its trade with the outside world.

Though they mainly collected tolls from people from Essos and the Westerlands, they still occasionally made trouble for House Hightower's merchant ships.

After all, House Redwyne's liege was House Tyrell.

"See it now? From the looks of things, Brandon Cuy assigning us here was probably the old man's doing."

Back in his room, he looked at the two men standing before him.

Clyson and Marwyn.

Darean spoke slowly.

Clyson had yet to quite grasp it, but Marwyn, shrewd with age, had already caught on.

"So you're worried that asking you to make requests this time is actually an attempt to control you?"

Darean nodded.

"Yes. Even if this really is the old man's intention, it's still a problem."

He tapped the desk, his expression serious.

"There are only a little over a hundred of us. If hundreds of people or even more come pouring in from Oldtown, and Baelor and Garth send troops to garrison the place as well."

"Tell me, who here will still listen to me then? What will all our hard work here have amounted to?"

The captain of the guards, a little slow on the uptake, finally caught on. He slapped the table and said loudly:

"That won't do! If all those fellows from the Hightower come here, won't we be left with no real authority?"

It was something that he had managed to think of that, but Darean shook his head.

"That's precisely the problem. This is my father Earl Leyton's intention, at least as far as we can tell right now."

"So they're definitely going to send people, and we can't refuse."

There was no refusing. If Darean firmly rejected "Earl Leyton's aid"...

Then, in the Hightower's eyes, this land would have slipped out of their control, and that was absolutely unacceptable.

Darean bore the name Hightower. In his present circumstances, he could not leave the shelter of that great tree.

"That's why I said the old man has handed us a truly difficult problem this time."

With a sigh, he brought the conversation back on track.

"For now, let's not think about how to refuse them."

"The choice is in our hands. We need to discuss what to ask for beforehand. That's also why I called you here."

"Swords, bows, spears, armor-we can ask for those things, but we'd be better off not doing so."

"Rather than putting the supply of such crucial things in their hands, I'd prefer us to be able to produce them ourselves. The same goes for everything else."

Marwyn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"If I'd known you had so many troubles here, I should never have let you talk me into it."

His carrot-like fingers tapped the tabletop as the old fellow pondered.

"No matter how ambitious we are, we won't get anywhere without people."

"Darean, of your hundred-odd people, eighty percent are nothing but farmers. Only the few remaining are carpenters, smiths, and masons."

"There seems to be only one tanner, and he was only an apprentice."

"So we have to draw manpower from Oldtown, but not too many at once. We wouldn't be able to absorb them."

"I'd say we should have them send no more than thirty people this time."

"Oh, and you'd best ask for someone like a steward. From what I've seen these past few days, you aren't good at handling internal affairs, Darean."

He nodded helplessly. He knew it was true and had nothing to argue against.

Marwyn continued:

"As for the rest, we only want supplies, such as grain and iron ingots. Oh, and make sure they provide a sum of gold dragons."

"Once we have the money, how we spend it is our business."

Darean picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and scribbled away.

Though they had been given a raven, he would have to make this trip back to Oldtown.

He needed to find out exactly what the family wanted.

"Oh, my lord, it would be best to ask for a batch of light armor. Leather armor will do. Without armor to protect the soldiers we train, any shabby weapon could take their lives."

Clyson added.

"Even if you bring in an armorer, he won't be able to make much in a short time. What if something unexpected happens again?"

For most of the rest of the day, the three of them kept adding things they had overlooked.

This "aid list" grew from its initial handful of entries into something longer and longer, and increasingly detailed.

Only after dinner was the list finally completed.

Darean examined its contents carefully before feeling a little more at ease.

Changes in circumstances always outpaced plans.

In the original history, House Hightower, without him, seemed to have lost any designs on the Redwyne Straits.

Its pitiful little fleet had been burned to nothing by raiding Ironborn after the Redwyne Fleet sailed away on its expedition.

The shadow of the Iron Fleet had once drawn close to Oldtown, leaving Leyton Hightower quite furious.

There were still six months until the end of year 297 of the Conquest Calendar.

In that little time, there was no way Darean could build up a force worth considering through normal development.

This opportunity would serve nicely to give his domain's development an added catalyst.

His current armed forces had only a dozen or so horses between them, and barely more than twenty soldiers, including those still in training.

Even fighting pirates would be difficult, let alone getting drawn into a meat grinder like the War of the Five Kings.

In six months, Darean had to have a regular army of at least a thousand men under his command.

Otherwise, he would not even count as a pawn.