The old steward's final words settled the matter outright.
Just as Guncer had said, since they had already done it, there was no point in fooling themselves.
After all, in principle, this was an internal affair of House Hightower.
The ancient pact left Highgarden powerless to interfere with this mighty house.
Even if House Hightower was their vassal.
Did House Hightower need to notify Highgarden about what it did on its own lands?
The meeting room fell silent for a long time.
Only the candles on the table burned slowly in the air.
After an unknown length of time, Baelor let out a long, stale breath and spoke:
"All right, then. I agree."
He looked at Darean, his tone serious:
"I'll give you all five hundred of my guards, but you don't get a say in who commands them."
It was more or less time to lay their cards on the table. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore.
Darean shrugged and said indifferently:
"As you like. I wasn't the one who asked for them anyway."
Garth looked the most displeased.
At the family's table of power, Darean was not on his side, no matter how one looked at it.
Now Darean was a pig caught in an updraft, about to be swept into the sky.
If he really managed to turn New Land Village into New Land Town, or even a new town or a new port,
then no one in the family would be able to look down on this youngest Hightower anymore.
Yet there was nothing he could do now.
The will of Guncer and Baelor, along with the old steward representing Earl Leyton, left him no room to resist.
His expression shifted many times before this Hightower, who controlled quite a few businesses, finally gritted his teeth and said fiercely:
"I'll supply the family's materials. You can have as much as you need, but like Baelor, I'll send someone to watch how you use them. You're not allowed to mess around!"
Seriously... just who do you think you're looking down on?
Darean admitted that his former self really had not seemed to have a brain.
But that was no longer the case.
What's with all of you enabling password-free payments, then locking the app itself?
Fine. Once you're on my turf, whose orders you follow will come down to what each of us can do.
Darean ground his teeth inwardly.
For the next few hours, the three of them haggled over specific details.
The old steward who represented the head of the house had slipped away at some point without a sound.
Raising a castle that could withstand trials on the foundations of a small village was no simple matter.
Resources had to be allocated sensibly.
Sending everything over in one go would only result in enormous waste.
Although House Hightower was now truly filthy rich, no one's gold dragons grew on trees, did they?
Only when the orange sunset appeared over the Sunset Sea was the final plan settled.
Of course, it was really only a draft.
From now on, Oldtown would provide large-scale construction assistance to Darean's New Land Village.
The first to set out would be a group of highly skilled stonemasons, carpenters, and architects the family kept in reserve.
They would be accompanied by large quantities of grain, enough to keep them fed, as well as experienced surveyors.
Stone was unlikely to be transported from Oldtown.
So they could only source it locally.
The initial plan was to build a castle one-tenth the size of Oldtown.
The resources to support it would be Garth and Baelor's responsibility.
Once the discussions were over, Darean wasted no words and immediately spurred his horse toward his own lands.
He had to notify his people to prepare as quickly as possible.
"Seven above, if I hadn't failed to smell liquor on your breath, boy, I'd have thought you'd come back drunk from Oldtown."
Marwyn kept circling Darean.
He looked as though he were examining some rare animal.
Darean had not gone into much detail with the old man, but the experienced old maester soon worked out House Hightower's intentions.
Yet there was not a trace in his eyes of the misery that came with so many complicated tasks.
Darean could faintly make out an inexplicable excitement.
Sure enough, he's not one to sit quietly either!
With a sigh, Darean said:
"Get things organized first. Have the people build large granaries on the high ground outside the east wall."
"I reckon Oldtown will send the first group over in less than half a month."
"There'll be at least five times as many of them as there are of us."
"Everything else can be worked out, but the grain absolutely cannot be left out in the open."
Of course Darean remembered the requirements in the third section of the Book of Strange Script.
This really was like being handed a pillow just as he was nodding off.
Back then, no one had imagined things would turn out like this.
Marwyn shook his head with a bitter smile:
"Ah, if I'd known, I never should have come with you. I'm a maester, not your steward. Why should I be the one doing this?"
Darean ignored his complaint and asked instead:
"What else can we do? Leave it to Clyson? Would you feel comfortable with that, or would I?"
That one remark left the old maester speechless.
After struggling for a long while, the old man could only stalk out in a huff, leaving one last remark as he went:
"Get Oldtown to send you a steward at once. Whoever wants this job can have it!"
Speak of a steward, and a steward appeared.
Twelve days later, when Darean saw the figure stepping out of a conspicuous carriage amid the vast procession, he froze.
"You?!"
The newcomer was none other than the steward who had attended the meeting on Earl Leyton's behalf.
Darean did not know his name, because for as long as he could remember, the man had called himself "the steward."
After so many years, the entire family had grown accustomed to this. Probably only Earl Leyton himself knew his name.
"Yes, Lord Darean. From now on, I am your steward. Until construction here meets the family's satisfaction, you have no right to refuse."
The steward's tone was calm, as though those irritating words themselves were coated in cream and honey.
Darean understood, however, that this was simply the truth.
Earl Leyton had sent the man to oversee the work, and he really had no way to refuse.
But at a time like this, would it not be a little too pathetic to greet him with a pleasant face?
So Darean's face darkened, and his words were decidedly rude:
"Is that so? What an honor. But Mr. Steward, how do you intend to display your great talents? This little place of ours can't withstand you turning it upside down."
The steward seemed utterly unconcerned by the mockery of a young man several decades his junior.
He answered with complete seriousness:
"Plump grain will fill the granaries, elite soldiers will patrol the surroundings, and diligent craftsmen will build a great city beneath the glory of the high tower."
He pointed at the long procession behind him and said slowly:
"There are five hundred people here. I believe their caliber is far better than those that fellow Bran-ton gave you."
"Choose a suitable place for them to make camp."
"I hope you still have enough timber in stock."
Before you continue