The foundation ceremony

The quarters for the two hundred soldiers were soon built through their own efforts and the help of others.

Though they were essentially matchboxes topped with triangular wooden roofs, all identical and utterly lacking in originality.

Still, there was no denying that this simple, repetitive labor was the most efficient approach for a territory undergoing rapid construction.

They went from fumbling at the beginning to handling the work with ease.

Some people did not even need to look closely to know where the next wooden strip should go or where its groove should fit.

Having done it so many times, they had become thoroughly practiced.

And amid all this activity, excavation of the foundations for the northeastern section of New Land Town's planned outer wall was nearly complete.

A month and a half after construction began, Darean prepared to attend the foundation ceremony for New Land Town's walls.

The walls would have a rammed-earth core faced with stone.

This would be faster than hauling heavy stones from distant quarries to fill the walls.

After all, the soil of the South was well suited to ramming, allowing them to use local materials.

Once the broad foundation trench had been dug, the next task was to fill it with soil that would not settle easily, then ram it firmly into place.

The South saw frequent rain. Without this step, a single heavy downpour could cause widespread collapse before long.

Experienced builders all knew this well.

As the lord, Darean had no need to take part in building the walls at every moment.

But turning that first shovelful of earth was his responsibility as lord.

In the way people of Westeros understood things, noble bloodlines were deeply bound to the land beneath their feet.

Thus, when a noble departed, only descendants who carried his blood could inherit that land and continue exercising his authority.

In ancient times, according to the Citadel's records, the founding of every castle required nobles to cut open their palms and pour their blood into the soil.

It signified the union of blood and land.

Of course, with sanitation so poor, no small number of nobles who did this failed to last long enough to see much of their walls built.

By the present day, the practice had become far less bloody.

But no one could omit this step.

And so, on a bright, sunny morning in the year 297 of the Conquest Calendar, New Land Town's undisputed lord, Dareon Hightower, dressed in his finest clothes and wore House Hightower's smoke-gray cloak bearing a white tower.

Watched and surrounded by his subjects, craftsmen, and soldiers, he arrived at the site designated for the northern gate.

Darean knew very well that although these nearly one thousand people were now his subjects, and neither Baelor, Garth, nor Guncer could take them back,

those three had still held something in reserve: they had not yet brought their families over.

In other words, their roots remained in Oldtown or in the estates nearby.

Therefore, if Darean wanted them to submit to him and settle their hearts here for good, he had to say something.

At the very least, he had to prove that he was no useless drunkard like Humfrey.

He, Dareon Hightower, could lead them further on this entirely new stretch of land.

Two hundred guards in gleaming armor stood in ranks around him, with the gathered subjects beyond them.

They were all watching him.

Clyson handed Darean a shovel.

He said quietly,

"My lord, please begin."

The shovel pierced the mound of earth with a rustle.

Darean scooped up a shovelful of sandy soil.

Standing on a flat stone slab, Gerold Hightower thought the lad would toss the soil from his shovel the next moment.

From what he knew of Darean, the lad hated this sort of pointless ceremony more than anything.

Because he hated it too.

Yet, to his surprise, Darean spoke.

"I! Darean of House Hightower!"

"We gather here to witness together the laying of the foundations for House Hightower's New Castle!"

"This is a day of glory, and a moment in history!"

"The tower stands far away, but New Land Town is here!"

"If the light of the Hightower cannot be seen here, then I, Dareon Hightower, shall light the way ahead for you!"

"We assemble here and swear to guard House Hightower's New Castle, by day and by night, through wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. We shall hold this ground and defend our home until our final breath."

"We shall defend the castle's safety with our lives and preserve our house's honor with our loyalty. However cunning or powerful our enemies may be, we shall stand united and resist them together."

"We know well that this castle is not merely a heap of stone and earth, but a symbol of our house's spirit. Beneath the gaze of the gods, we shall uphold its sanctity and inviolability."

"We shall remember the oath sworn today and prove our loyalty through our deeds. May House Hightower's New Castle stand unfallen, and may our house's glory shine forever, until the end of the world."

Dareon Hightower shouted,

"Let the gods bear witness!"

The shovel swung up, and the sandy soil it held flew out and fell into the excavated foundation.

Cheers rang out, and the soldiers beat a rhythmic drumbeat against their breastplates.

This place belonged to Dareon Hightower, and it belonged to them as well.

The magic drifting in the air seemed to suffer some disturbance, silently forming faint ripples.

In a room far from the foundation ceremony,

the young apprentice was organizing the notes Maester Marwyn had made during this time.

"It lit up! It lit up again!"

A few seconds later, he shouted and sprinted toward the cheers.

Unfortunately, Marwyn had not seen it.

The cheers of New Land Town could not, of course, travel very far.

They could not cross the Honeywine, let alone the Mander River farther north.

And where the Roseroad and Seaside Road met beside the Mander River, Highgarden, House Tyrell's ancestral seat, was bustling with prosperity.

The shadow of war had long since left this land, and the people of the Reach never worried about their bellies.

Yet a swift horse raced along the Roseroad and through the southern gate of Highgarden City.

The guards did not stop it.

For a rose in full bloom on the knight's clothing proclaimed his identity.

He was one of House Tyrell's horsemen.

The guards did not concern themselves with why the knight had come through the southern gate.

An hour later, however, the mistress of the city received the news she most wanted to know.

News from the south.

"Hmm... it seems that fellow in the Hightower, who's just as old as I am, still has quite a few little schemes."

The same room, the same place.

Several roses bloomed exuberantly on the round oak table.

Sipping wine as splendid as fresh blood, the Queen of Thorns handed the letter to her granddaughter.

"Take a look. After holding back all these years, Leyton Hightower is finally going to display his strength in the Redwyne Straits."

Without waiting for her granddaughter to answer, the ruler of Highgarden gave a cold command.

"Go, write to Earl Redwyne in my name. Tell him to make a little less wine and pay more attention to his own doorstep."

"And you... Margaery, go to this... hmm, New Land Town, and pay a visit to this 'uncle' who is the same age as you."

"He won't turn you away."