The guards arrive

"Darean, what have you been doing these past two days? Why do I keep seeing you heading to the site where they're digging the wall foundations?"

During a meal, Marwyn eyed his lord suspiciously as he bit into a piece of bread.

Ever since his apprentice had sworn three days ago that the Glass Candle had burned, Marwyn had wanted to talk to Darean.

He had all but forgotten why he had come to this backwater with Darean in the first place.

One thing after another had kept him frantically busy.

He had forgotten the whole matter completely.

He still remembered the miracle Darean had performed right before his eyes in his room.

In fact, that "Valyrian Purple Queen" seed, which had already come to life, had now taken root in his Herb Garden and sprouted into a little seedling.

Darean had not brought it up, and Marwyn had not taken the initiative to ask.

After all, nobles-especially old noble houses like House Hightower, whose lineage stretched back who knew how long-had their own secrets.

Yet what had happened three days ago had suddenly connected that memory with the present in Marwyn's mind.

Though he had no evidence.

Finally unable to suppress his scholarly thirst for knowledge, Marwyn had decided to sound Darean out with a few indirect questions.

To his surprise, for three days running, Darean had been absent every time he went looking for him.

He had even heard that the lad went roaming alone late at night on his black warhorse from Essos.

No one knew what on earth was going through his head.

Now he had finally caught him.

Darean already had his answer prepared when he heard Marwyn's question:

"Oh, I went to take a closer look at the wall foundations. We'll be putting stone walls on them later, after all. We can't have unstable foundations."

Marwyn did not believe him. He eyed him skeptically and asked:

"You know about that sort of thing too?"

Darean nodded with a perfectly straight face:

"Of course. I'm not a useless fool like Humfrey."

Well, insulting Humfrey whenever he was at a loss had already become Darean's passive skill.

There was nothing Marwyn could do about it either.

After all, there was little point in pressing further. He could hardly ask Darean to explain in detail what he had found during his inspection, could he?

He was trying to remember whether there had been something he wanted to ask when the young noble across from him continued:

"Half of the five hundred people who came this time are skilled wall builders."

"The man leading them is the family's most experienced Builder. He leads the men who handle the Hightower's routine maintenance."

"After hearing our plans, he told us that if we gave him three thousand young men and a year, he could finish the basic wall structure."

"If Oldtown can provide more manpower, it might take even less time!"

In truth, building a castle should never have taken so little time.

The average was over five years.

But many things were different when it came to Darean's new castle.

First, and most importantly:

They were not as rich as House Hightower!

As the most discreetly wealthy family in the Seven Kingdoms, House Hightower might have held even more Gold Dragons than House Lannister, which served as the Iron Throne's reserve treasury.

After all, after so many years of Robert's extravagance, many of those Gold Dragons had become debts on paper.

The actual Gold Dragons had long since left his hands and Lord Tywin's.

With a wave of his hand, Baelor had poured in a hundred thousand Gold Dragons in the first round alone.

That was enough for Robert to hold a nationwide tourney of unprecedented splendor.

Other nobles building castles had all sorts of expenses to bear. To maintain what they already had, they could never throw money around like this.

No one would build a castle like a madman, heedless of everything else.

Of course, there were exceptions. Someone in the history of Westeros really had done just that.

That fellow's name was Harren "Black Heart."

Though the comparison was exceedingly ill-omened, the fact remained that as long as you treated costs as worth less than shit, no problem was a problem.

Darean and the designers had also reached an agreement on the castle's construction:

Any flashy but useless decorations-out!

Any structures that looked imposing and grand but did little to improve actual defenses-out!

Any facilities intended for the lord's enjoyment-out!

Darean understood his new castle's role very clearly.

It was a great nail House Hightower would drive into the Redwyne Straits.

Enjoyment?

Were the girls in Oldtown not shapely enough?

Or were the maids in the Hightower not slender enough at the waist?

Considering that string of major events beginning in the year 298 of the Conquest Calendar, how could I expect to sleep comfortably before fighting things through to an outcome?

One day I might wake up with Dragonfire right in my face!

So this castle could serve as a Paramilitary Garrison.

Once they had firmly established themselves, the walls would continue extending toward the sea, completely enclosing the harbor that still existed only on the blueprints.

I wonder whether I can buy enough time.

As he recalled, the war alone that had brought down several crowns had lasted two or three years.

That should... be enough, right?

Before he knew it, Darean's torrent of words had steered the conversation completely off course.

As he listened, the aging Marwyn forgot what he had caught Darean for.

Yet when he saw a purple flower swaying within his field of vision, it reminded him of that "Valyrian Purple Queen," which in turn reminded him of the dead seed taking root and sprouting.

Only for a rapid clatter of hooves to cut off his thoughts completely.

A lone rider came swiftly toward them.

It was Clyson, now in overall command of New Land Village's defenses.

"My lord! Hurry to the main road northeast of the territory. The family's guards have arrived!"

Darean froze. So soon?

But there was no time to think about it now.

The guards could be considered the largest part of his "influence" within the family.

Naturally, he could not be careless.

He had told Clyson long ago to notify him immediately once the guards appeared at the territory's edge.

Now the first contingent of the fighting force Darean had long awaited was finally in place.

Naturally, he had to go and do his part as their host.

"Someone! Fetch my horse!"

Darean shouted toward the temporary stable.

The groom, who had been munching on a cucumber, tossed the remaining end into his mouth, dashed into the stable, and brought out Darean's black horse.

Once the saddle was secured, Darean swung himself onto the horse.

He waved at Marwyn, whose lips were moving as he tried to say something that remained stuck in his throat.

Then he raised his whip and struck his warhorse.

Stung by the slight pain, the black horse immediately broke into a gallop toward the main road to the northeast.

Behind him, the armored Clyson followed closely.

Whenever the fellow was clearheaded, he remembered that his duty was to protect Darean.

Darean very much wanted to know who commanded this contingent of guards.

Hoofbeats thundered.

When Darean finally made out the unsmiling, middle-aged man sitting upright on his warhorse in silvery-white armor, he blurted out:

"Uncle Jeylo?!"