Not yours to know

"I have an idea. Hear me out and tell me whether it's feasible."

Since they were not enemies, and could even be considered each other's only "ally" in the House Hightower council,

Baelor Hightower had always spoken to Darean in an accommodating, reasonable tone.

But as his younger brother, Darean knew just how proud his eldest brother and heir was at heart.

He could be polite to you, but that did not mean he would truly tolerate you being anything less than polite to him.

Take the list of requested aid Darean had just pulled from his pocket, for instance.

The man had set it aside without even looking at it.

He still wore Baelor the Laughing's trademark expression, but Darean could read little warmth between its lines.

"As I see it, Darean, on your own, perhaps given twenty or thirty years, you might manage to make something of yourself right under Lord Redwyne's nose."

"But I can tell you plainly: the old man cannot wait that long, I cannot wait that long, and neither can House Hightower."

"So, the plan Garth, Gonthor, and I drew up earlier was..."

Baelor raised his first finger.

"First, House Hightower will provide you with a hundred thousand gold dragons. Don't think that's a lot. House Hightower is as wealthy as the Golden Lion; this is nothing."

Then came the second.

"Second, the guards will mingle with the commoners and go over in batches to be stationed there. You will need to provide quarters for them."

"You can ask House Hightower for all the supplies this requires. House Hightower will support you fully."

"Once everything is ready, build a castle, then a harbor, in your name."

"..."

That last part was not merely a pointless extra step.

Of course, Oldtown already had a harbor, so building another seemed redundant.

But geography dictated that, whatever Oldtown did now, it could not avoid passing through the Redwyne Straits.

Was building more ships really just for the sake of making more trips and paying Paxter Redwyne a few gold dragons in tolls?

Darean's knightly fief happened to offer a way around that very problem.

So you're setting up toll barriers?

Fine, I simply won't go through your waters.

They could build a harbor right at New Land Village, then simply spend some money on a road leading straight to Oldtown.

For the final short stretch, they could just haul everything overland.

However they calculated it, those minor losses were nothing compared with the fleecing they took in the Redwyne Straits.

What was more, this would thoroughly spite House Redwyne.

Oldtown's trade volume far exceeded that of the Arbor, where the Redwynes were based.

Once Darean's harbor was built and operational, every bite it took would carve a chunk of flesh right off Lord Redwyne.

For Baelor Hightower, the future heir of House Hightower, there was no describing how satisfying that would feel.

After hearing his eldest brother out, Darean fell into a long silence.

He had already realized that he might have viewed his fief too simply.

But only after hearing Baelor "lay his cards on the table" today did he understand that he was still too young.

Leyton Hightower had five sons in all.

The eldest, Baelor, was the heir and could not go.

The second, Garth, served as a counterweight to Baelor and could not easily be moved either.

The third, Guncer, had married into House Fossoway of New Barrel, whose liege was House Tyrell of Highgarden.

As for the fourth, Humfrey... the less said, the better.

And so Darean had inexplicably been pushed out of the center of power, then granted a strange little fief.

He had originally thought it was his exile.

Now it seemed... that was nothing like the truth.

After leaving his eldest brother's room, Darean's mind swirled with thoughts.

Now he had to see his second brother, Garth.

If Garth meant much the same thing, then this was the settled will of House Hightower.

Darean would have to accept it, no matter what.

But the same question remained:

House Hightower was far too large; a tiny place like New Land Village was nothing worth mentioning.

When the time came, would he still have the final say?

Darean first returned to his own room in the Hightower.

While he had been speaking with Baelor, the attentive maids had already cleaned the room for the young lord of House Hightower.

Leaning back against the familiar chair, Darean pondered in silence.

Knock, knock, knock...

A knock sounded at the door, very polite, neither too soft nor too loud.

Setting his thoughts aside, Darean called out,

"Come in."

With a creak, the aging hinges, pushed into motion, gave voice to the passage of years.

A somewhat pale hand rested against the doorframe. It was a woman.

Darean recognized her.

Jeyne Fossoway.

A daughter of House Fossoway of New Barrel, and, of course, the wife of his third brother, Guncer.

What was she here for?

Darean frowned imperceptibly, but put on a smile identical to Baelor's, his voice carrying delight.

"Long time no see, Jeyne. How is little Uther?"

Hearing someone ask after her child, Jeyne, though preoccupied, still gave a happy smile as a mother and nodded.

"He's very well. May the Seven bless my Uther with a safe journey to adulthood, and may the glory of the high tower light his path."

With the pleasantries over, Darean immediately came to the point.

"Speaking of which, Jeyne, was there something you wanted to see me about?"

After a moment's hesitation, the daughter of New Barrel spoke.

"Darean... I heard you hurried back this time and went straight to see Baelor. Has something happened?"

"I asked Guncer, but he wouldn't tell me anything."

Something stirred in Darean's mind, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

This was not a question she should be asking.

Unless they truly understood nothing, noblewomen who married into a family ought to know their boundaries.

What was theirs to know, and what was not.

On the surface, Darean's situation was simply that of a son of House Hightower who had been sidelined and driven out to some distant place, given a small knightly fief to play in the mud.

Those rumors had been deliberately spread in the first place. They did not matter.

However, the resolve of House Hightower behind all this, though no consensus had yet been reached, was certainly not something an "outsider" like Jeyne Fossoway should know about.

Darean trusted that Guncer was no fool.

Damn it, did this woman think I was some brute with muscles for brains, so she came to pry it out of me?

Tsk, why did that feel insulting?

"Nothing much. My place is doing fairly well. I came back this time hoping Baelor would give Brandon Cuy an order to collect less tax from my fief."

He made up a lie offhand.

In fact, before this matter became clear, Bran-ton really would have dared demand payment from Darean. After all, the place nominally belonged to House Cuy.

But now...

He would not dare even if he had ten times the courage!

After a little small talk, Jeyne could only rise to take her leave.

Yet just as she was nearing the door, she heard Darean's voice.

"Can you tell me why the Hightower's guards are now under Guncer's command?"

She paused, and a peculiar smile appeared on her no-longer-youthful face.

She curtsied to Darean, her tone quiet and lingering.

"Darean, you should ask Guncer that question."