Baelor

After settling matters in his domain, Darean once again took no one along except a single guard.

Whoever had ordered the earlier incident, Darean was now certain he did not need to worry about his safety for the time being.

When the Old Man of Oldtown turned his gaze upon him.

Everything lurking in the shadows, unable to bear the light, would lie low for a while.

Riding hard the whole way, Darean saw Oldtown's south gate again after just two and a half days.

His last visit had been a month ago. The people of Oldtown had plenty to talk about and had long since forgotten his affairs.

Once inside the city, Darean headed without hesitation straight for his family's castle, the Hightower on Battle Island in Oldtown.

This was the very heart of Oldtown, and even family members had to take a ferry to come and go.

For that very reason, the family had always chafed at its lack of sufficient naval strength.

Consider this: what if the Redwyne Fleet were destroyed, or the Redwyne Fleet itself became the enemy?

Then the enemy would only need to blockade the waterways leading in and out of the Hightower to starve House Hightower to death.

The High Kings of old had all devoted themselves to building the strongest navy in all of Westeros.

Yet times had changed. With Highgarden constantly holding them back and fostering the powerful Redwyne Fleet, the Hightower navy could no longer accomplish much.

He rode along the road straight to the ferry landing reserved for members of the family.

Darean dismounted beside the statue of Lemon Hightower, the "Sea Lion."

Without pausing, he strode toward the soldiers standing guard beside the boat.

He tossed a gray heraldic token straight into one man's hand, and his calm voice rang out:

"Dareon Hightower. Don't pretend you don't know me."

The older veteran naturally recognized the emblem that marked a family member, and he remembered Darean's face as well.

Before, Darean had held no title, and they had only needed to salute him.

Now, even if he was only a knight, they had to address him respectfully:

"My lord."

"The family didn't know you would return so soon. Shall I send a raven ahead to inform Lord Gonthor?"

The veteran bowed his head slightly and asked respectfully.

Looking at the top of the Hightower, as bright as a second rising sun in the morning mist, Darean raised his eyebrows:

"Hasn't Baelor always handled these things? Why has it been handed over to Gonthor?"

The veteran was utterly sincere:

"My lord, that isn't something I would know."

Darean nodded without making things difficult for him and answered his earlier question:

"No need to inform them. They probably won't come out to welcome me anyway. Just take me to the island."

The ferry pushed against the waves. Fortunately, Darean had long since grown used to the rocking.

After some time, passing sails that had been waiting for a long while, Darean stepped onto the rocks along Battle Island's shore.

Though the Hightower was white overall, its foundation was made of the same pitch-black material as the Black Wall of Volantis, and even the Dragonroad of the Valyrian Freehold.

Rough black stone formed a labyrinthine fortress, while at its entrance, two statues of sea beasts roaring skyward proclaimed the absolute dominion this family had once held over the Sunset Sea.

"Darean... my lord, you're back?"

He had barely entered the hall when he ran into a household guard who had once drawn his sword and cut men down alongside him.

Though they had remained at the Hightower in House Hightower's service, that did not mean Darean's friendship with them had grown distant.

Now, seeing him, the guard's face filled with delighted surprise.

"Yes, I'm back. Tell the lads that when I have time, I'll treat them to the best pork pies, with all the Golden Wine from the Arbor they can drink."

Darean patted the man's shoulder. He had no time to catch up with them now.

Still, his words delighted the guard, who seemed to have duties to attend to, and he readily agreed:

"All right, then! We'll be waiting for word from you, my lord!"

Darean nodded and headed toward the staircase that wound around the Hightower.

As a structure taller even than the Wall, the Hightower could not possibly have a hollow interior like an ordinary stone tower in Westeros.

Its internal layout was quite complex.

Still, whatever the case, anyone going up, unless they needed servants to carry them like that useless Humfrey.

Had to climb on their own two legs.

Darean's first stop was Baelor Hightower.

The family heir was currently the one closest to him, at least on the surface.

So Darean intended to hear one version of this affair from him first.

Around halfway up the Hightower, Darean spotted Baelor Hightower holding a writing board with a sheet of paper resting on it, briskly signing his name.

It was probably something to do with the properties under his control.

Darean waited until he had finished before stepping straight into the spacious courtyard.

"Baelor, long time no see. May the light of the Hightower continue to illuminate your path."

He recited a greeting unique to House Hightower.

Sure enough, Baelor immediately looked up, seemingly very surprised that Darean had returned directly to the Hightower.

After only a second's pause, a smile immediately appeared on his otherwise expressionless face.

Baelor the Laughing had arrived.

"Ah, Darean, my dear brother, why didn't you send word before coming back? Didn't I send someone to deliver ravens to you?"

The family heir rose from behind his desk, came around it, and seized Darean's arm.

"It's fine. This matter is too serious. I couldn't leave it without coming to explain things to you in person."

"It's not that far, anyway."

Baelor pulled Darean over to a chair at the side.

Behind him, an attentive attendant closed the doors for them.

As soon as the doors shut, he dispensed with pleasantries and spoke bluntly to Baelor:

"Brother, you know me."

"I don't like all the twists and turns. Just tell me plainly: what exactly does the old man mean by this, what do you mean, and what do Garth and Gonthor mean?"

Seemingly long accustomed to Darean's way of speaking, Baelor was not surprised in the slightest.

He still wore that same cheerful smile.

He patted Darean's shoulder and spoke gently:

"Of course, this was naturally Father's intention. Since you put it that way, I can tell you plainly too: the family needs to strengthen its presence in the Redwyne Straits."

"That is my intention as well, of course. After all, no Hightower likes the name 'Redwyne Straits.'"

"We're providing aid because we don't want you to be unable to establish yourself there."

"As for some of the unpleasantness that occurred earlier, don't simply assume it was the work of a few fools in the family."

"Think carefully. If Paxter Redwyne hadn't deliberately looked away, would your little place have been so easy to attack?"

Baelor said nothing further.

Though, in his eyes, Darean was nothing more than a brute accustomed to solving problems with swords.

When the family ventured into unfamiliar territory, sometimes it needed precisely that sort of man who disregarded everything.

He was the best candidate.