Two days after the first batch of iron ingots had been piled into the warehouse and the question of how to handle them left to the steward, a raven from Oldtown flew into Darean's domain.
Interestingly, this plump raven seemed to qualify for "dangerous driving," because copper tubes were tied to both its legs.
Clearly, it was overloaded, carrying two letters for him.
Darean raised an eyebrow. He had been wandering near the foundations of the walls, quietly using [Spell: Magic Foundation] on them whenever no one was paying attention, bringing his own walls up to the standard of the Wall.
He wondered why two letters had arrived at once.
Neither Baelor nor Garth nor Guncer would do something like this.
Waving for the guards behind him not to follow, Darean took the two long, narrow rolls of paper from Marwyn, who had brought them.
"Hm? This is..."
Darean's gaze was immediately drawn to the dab of sealing wax on one roll.
This... unless I'm mistaken, that should be a rose emblem, right?
House Tyrell-this letter is from them?
Although he had long expected House Hightower's construction work here to attract the attention of other houses, he had not expected House Tyrell to move so quickly.
Breaking the wax seal, Darean unfolded the distinctly floral-scented letter.
A line of delicate, feminine handwriting met his eyes:
"Dear Darean,"
"This letter comes from Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. I presume you know who I am."
"I hear that southern flowers are blooming profusely on your lands, and a daughter of the House of Roses wishes to visit your domain."
"You won't turn me down, will you?"
"By the time you receive this letter, I will already be in a carriage bound for your domain. I hope you have fine wine ready for me."
The next few lines contained little of substance.
Margaery Tyrell-the Little Rose is coming here?
A youthful little face sprang into Darean's mind. The last time he had seen Margaery had been during a visit to Highgarden a year or two ago.
In terms of family seniority, though, he was her uncle, and her mother was his third elder sister, Alerie Hightower.
There was no helping it. The old man was in excellent health, resulting in Darean being the same age as the Little Rose yet a generation above her.
He shook those tangled family relationships out of his head.
Darean had no intention of writing to his third sister to ask about this.
Just like Moryn Tyrell, whom the Tyrells had placed right under the Hightower's nose, Alerie was probably someone with no access to real power at Highgarden.
Recalling his impression of the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Redwyne, Darean decided it would be better not to trouble his third sister.
Besides, although the letter was politely worded, its meaning was perfectly clear.
Margaery had defined this visit as a meeting between relatives.
Without mentioning that the Tyrells wanted to inspect the Hightowers' affairs, she left Darean no way to refuse.
He glanced back at the enormous construction site, where all the activity had sent dust flying, and sighed.
Fine. It's not as though I can halt the entire project just because a rose is coming to spread a little fragrance.
Still... whatever needs hiding must naturally be hidden properly.
It took no thought at all to know that the Little Rose was definitely not coming because she missed this "uncle," of whom she probably had scarcely any impression.
House Hightower was too vast, like a sleeping dragon whose slightest movement would draw countless gazes.
Let her come. There will be plenty more of this sort of thing anyway.
With that thought, Darean opened the second letter.
As expected, it was from Baelor.
Its contents supplemented the Little Rose's first letter.
His eldest brother instructed him to make certain this flower of Highgarden was properly entertained, but to let her see as little as possible.
The Hightower would send another two hundred soldiers and one hundred knights, escorting a shipment of supplies under the pretext of escorting Margaery Tyrell, and deliver both the men and the supplies directly to Darean.
Baelor stated outright in the letter that it would be best to find some way to keep the Little Rose drunk and dizzy every day. She only needed to stay for a while, and he would do everything he could to arrange for this enormous nuisance to leave Darean's territory as soon as possible.
"Oh, right, there's one more thing to tell you."
"I saw Father. He said he misses you very much and wants to call a House Hightower gathering in two months, bringing everyone home."
"Although I find this a little strange, I still hope you can attend the family feast at the Hightower when the time comes."
"Don't worry. I'll send a raven to let you know."
Baelor had added that passage at the end of his letter.
Darean was somewhat puzzled. As he remembered it, there was nothing that could be called affection between him and this father he had acquired.
After all, for Darean's entire life, this father had been shut away at the top of the Hightower, studying his magic.
To Darean, Leyton Hightower meant only the Lord of Oldtown.
Yet now this Earl of the Hightower had suddenly said he missed him very much and wanted to summon everyone of House Hightower's blood back to the Hightower.
What was he trying to do?
House Hightower's blood ties were complicated. The Tyrells, Redwynes, Coopers, Ambroses, Fossoways, and other houses all had marriage ties to the Hightowers in this generation.
In all his seventeen years, Darean had not a single memory of anything resembling this supposed family feast.
Recalling House Hightower members on such a scale would inevitably invite unfounded speculation from others.
And there was also what he was doing in New Land Town.
What exactly was this father of mine thinking?
Darean frowned and pondered for a long time, but still could not understand the purpose behind this baffling move.
To be honest, he did not believe for a moment that the old man simply missed his children.
After all, counting his grandsons and granddaughters, Earl Leyton had more descendants than could be counted on both hands and feet.
Returning to his residence, he stepped through the door to find Marwyn, who had returned before him, scolding that apprentice.
"Maester Marwyn... I'm certain that a while ago, this, er... candle of yours lit itself again."
"But it was only for an instant, and then it went out. No matter how much I tried burning it afterward, I couldn't light it."
The old maester's face flushed red with anger:
"This is a Glass Candle! There are only four in all of Westeros. Seven Hells, it would be a miracle if you could light it with fire!"
"And why didn't you report the Glass Candle lighting itself to me?!"
The young apprentice looked utterly aggrieved.
"I... I don't know either, my lord. At first I was quite frightened, but then I thought, isn't it just a little candle that bursts into flame from time to time? So I put it in a corner to keep it from setting the shelf on fire."
Darean, who had just entered, was startled to hear this.
The Glass Candle had burned again?
But there was no way to investigate that right now; Marwyn had turned to look at him.
Darean waved for the apprentice, who looked as though he had been granted a pardon, to leave at once, then handed Marwyn the letter concerning Margaery.
"Have a look. We need to work this out together-just what are we going to show this noble daughter of Highgarden?"
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