Eyes from afar

If he could not figure it out, he might as well leave it alone.

Whatever this strange book wanted him to do coincided with his current goals anyway.

Once everything had settled down, Darean would have plenty of time to study how it worked.

Clayson Hightower did not keep him waiting long. About fifteen minutes later, the party of ten riders returned.

Although none of them had suffered so much as a scratch, their grim faces told Darean things could not have gone well.

Sure enough, his captain of the guards took off his helmet and spoke in a low voice:

"My lord, they're dead. All dead. Not a single survivor..."

He shook his head, his expression pained.

A small village of over a hundred people, all familiar with the local area.

For Darean, who was starting from nothing, its value could not be overstated.

Yet those bastards had arrived just ahead of their horses.

The knight previously stationed here had lost everything in a gambling den in Highgarden just a month earlier.

That was how Dareon Hightower had gotten his chance to pick up a bargain.

But by sheer coincidence, the Dornish had come when this land's defenses were at their weakest!

As though they had known beforehand.

It was hard not to speculate.

"What about Ser Hosman's old castle?"

Darean asked.

Clyson answered with a trace of mockery:

"My lord, what castle? That gambler lost everything he owned."

He pointed toward a large stretch of ruins on the high ground east of the village and continued:

"That was Ser Hosman's wooden house. It burned down long ago. Nothing's left."

"That fool is locked in Brandon Cuy's cellar right now. Otherwise, he'd be smelling like roast meat by now."

After a moment's thought, Darean gave his orders:

"There's no reason to preserve this place anymore."

He raised his longsword and pointed toward the remaining stretch of high ground on the western side of his domain:

"We'll camp there."

It was all Darean could do.

Clyson had left some things unsaid, but Darean understood.

The village was probably a scene straight out of hell now. If they made camp in a place like that, these unarmed subjects would all flee within two days.

Darean knew perfectly well that fear outweighed honor in the vast majority of cases.

The spot he chose was a high hill on the edge of the forest.

It could be considered the safest place in the area.

"Tell our people to make camp first. The men are to collect tools and cut timber. Some of the women will gather wild fruit, and the rest will prepare supper."

Darean dismounted and sheathed his sword.

There was no helping it. They had not brought enough tents to squeeze everyone inside.

Even in midsummer, spending a night sleeping out in the open carried a considerable risk of illness.

And with medical care in Westeros as it currently stood...

Without a maester, the death rate among the sick was frighteningly high.

His subjects faithfully carried out Darean's orders.

That was not to say he commanded any great respect.

In fact, these peasants from the lands of Sunflower Hall had not even known who Darean was before this.

But such was human nature. In fear, people naturally sought the protection of the strong.

And Darean, his family's sigil, and the horses and longswords of his seventeen remaining riders naturally filled that role.

So, before his very eyes, over a hundred people immediately set to work.

They were all experienced people who knew how to get what they needed from woods and meadows.

Darean had Clyson and the remaining riders rest for a while as well.

This first night would be the most unsettled.

They had arrived in the afternoon. Just before the sun disappeared into the Sunset Sea, the subjects who had ventured a short distance away all returned.

Only one fellow had been unlucky, getting rammed by a wild boar that burst out of the woods.

Fortunately, Clyson and his men had been nearby and immediately drawn their swords and charged.

Darean could not help taking another look at the fellow who had survived the boar's tusks.

"Name?"

Clutching his arm, the still-shaken man answered in a trembling voice:

"Edmont, my lord."

Darean reached out and patted his shoulder, then said something the man could not make sense of despite tossing and turning over it all night:

"Not bad. You're much better than that stag on the Iron Throne..."

Once everything was ready, the bonfires were lit, driving back the darkness that was gradually closing in.

Several soup pots were set up, with roughly prepared wild fruit and vegetables simmering inside.

Most of the meat had also been cut from the boar Clyson and his men had dragged back and distributed among the people.

Standing before the largest bonfire in the center, Darean held a bowl of soup, looked into those pairs of eyes, and called out:

"My people!"

"I know some of you did not want to leave your homes and follow me to this unfamiliar place."

"But now, you haven't run away. You're sitting here."

"So I, Dareon Hightower of the Hightower, must provide you with protection!"

"I will not reward you with Lord Cuy's favorite Summer Red."

"I will not put honey-baked meat pies on your plates."

"The only thing I can give you is this land!"

"Until we have truly built a home where you can live properly, I will not collect so much as a single copper star from you!"

"Cut down trees, plaster on mud, and build your own houses."

"Turn the soil, plant your seeds, and await your harvest under the blessings of the Seven."

Darean spread his arms, his voice growing louder:

"All of this is yours!"

"In exchange, I, your lord, ask for your loyalty!"

As his words fell, cheers rang out across the countryside, startling birds from their roosts in the woods.

Darean knew perfectly well that ordinary peasants and craftsmen did not care about their lord's honor.

All they wanted was a house that sheltered them from wind and rain, and black bread they could soak in water and swallow.

Preferably, taxes would be a little lower, so they could save a little by the end of the year.

That was all. Nothing more.

Darean had no interest in squeezing a few copper stars, worn smooth from handling, out of the peasants' hands either.

His plan was to shake gold coins out of other lords.

Another wave of warmth came. Sure enough, the first section of the Green Lands had just been completed.

An inexplicable sensation came from all directions.

For an instant, Darean seemed to feel a little closer to the land beneath his feet.

His gaze swept across the fields, which had now fallen completely dark and silent.

He really did realize that he could "see" things that had not existed before.

These elusive energies had originally drifted through the air like rootless duckweed.

Now, little by little, they were gathering toward his body.

Amid the ice and snow Beyond the Wall, a single blood-red eye abruptly opened in a sinister cavern.

After a moment's bewilderment, incredulous shock filled its pupil.

It suddenly looked south.

A voice as hoarse as tearing bark rang out in the darkness, carrying unmistakable confusion:

"Another one?"

At the same time, on a small island somewhere in the Narrow Sea.

Dancing flames flickered in a woman's dark blue eyes.

A figure emerged in the vision within the fire.

Many people seemed to be gathered around him.

And behind him, flames surged into the sky.

A voice with a distinctive allure broke apart amid the sound of the tide as she said:

"Are you... a Follower of the Flame too?"